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“Good point. Plus, you’re much too pretty for them to zombie-out.”
With a quick hug, Liv told her friend, “How you flatter me. I’d love to sit with you lovely ladies this morning, but I’m on the go. Chloe’s wedding.”
“Ah, yes,” Vanessa said with a soft laugh. “The event of the year. It has become the talk of the town. I can’t believe Nick, Hunter, and Roxy haven’t been evicted from their own mansion while all the preparations for the ceremony and the reception are made.”
“Oh, God.” Liv held a finger to her lips. “Shh . . . Don’t even send that thought into the universe. It will reach Chloe’s ears and she’ll be all, ‘Hey, why didn’t I think of that?’”
Vanessa giggled. “She wouldn’t dream of it. But honestly, from
what I hear this entire soiree is going to be so over-the-top gorgeous, no one will want to get married in Bayfront for the next decade. And even then, they’ll pray there are no comparisons being made.”
“So glad I’m not living under that pressure,” Liv quipped.
“Hmm.” Vanessa raised a quizzical blonde brow. “One of those ‘childhood friends’ doesn’t spark your interest?”
Liv resisted the urge to sigh longingly at the mere mention of the two men. Instead, she simply said, “It’d be difficult to date either one of them when we’re rarely in the same location at the same time. And I’d rather be single than a star-crossed lover. Much too tragic.”
Definitely something for her to keep in mind so she didn’t get carried away with Nate or Tristan. Nate and Tristan.
She groaned inwardly. Her common sense seemed to be on its own hiatus, because Liv actually did want to get carried away with them. And in the back of her mind, there was the tickle of a thought as to how her new career path would take her across the country, since both bands she was seriously considering joining were on the East Coast—as were their current touring circuits.
With this venture, Liv figured she’d be buying a New York pad for a temporary home base these next few years while she built up her reputation and credibility, and, of course, determined whether lead singer was truly a viable professional path for her.
London would then be infinitely closer—she actually could see Nate and Tristan more often.
The downside was that Liv’s goals had always been carefully crafted around her desire to be in Bayfront whenever/as much as possible. But sacrifices had to be made to fulfill one’s aspirations, right? And she couldn’t deny that an overnighter from time to time in London sparked her interest.
“Well,” Vanessa mused, cutting into Liv’s thoughts. “I can imagine your globe-trotting lifestyle makes it hard to have a serious relationship. But I can also see why Lindsey broke the cardinal rule and posted that pic of you. I don’t recall you ever being quite so ecstatic in the presence of a man, let alone two.”
“It’s just been a while since I’ve seen them,” she said nonchalantly, hoping to diffuse any further conjecture—and keep her secret under wraps. “Nothing more.” The barista called her name and Liv collected her skinny latte, poked a straw in the lid, and took a long drink. Then she told the group, “Sorry to sip and run, but I’ve got a million things to do. See you all next time.”
Liv left the coffee house, her cup in one hand, her cell in the other. As she made her way down the awning-lined sidewalk, she eyed the photo again.
Vanessa had been right—she did look ecstatic. And she had been. Still was.
The reception would be much more fun with Nate and Tristan there for her to dance, make toasts, and generally get crazy with while surrounded by their friends. It’d be a great night to let loose here in Bayfront and not feel like a fourth wheel amongst the threesomes in attendance.
It hadn’t fully dawned on Liv until the afternoon when Nate and Tristan had arrived at the yacht club that she really had been dreading her sans-date predicament. And even though her friends would never allow her to feel left out or lonely, she would have had to face the stark reality that she was, in fact, all alone in the romantic grand scheme of things.
Not a dilemma she normally ruminated over. Yet weddings tended to bring one’s singleton status front and center, didn’t they? And even though Liv could claim her career kept her from having a steady boyfriend, somehow she knew that sentiment wouldn’t even ring true in her own ears forever. Not in light of how everyone else had recently coupled up, despite their hectic schedules.
Hell, Nick was a blockbuster indie movie producer with his own studio outside of L.A., Hunter was an international best-selling novelist, and their girlfriend, Roxy Shea, was an artist. They all had their personal agendas. And yet they lived quite harmoniously, and happily committed, in Nick’s mansion. The one Chloe was all but taking over for her wedding, thanks to the trio offering up the space for her and John, since John’s primary residence was currently in Texas and they were still house-hunting in Bayfront.
So for Liv’s situation, excuses seemed trite at the moment.
But also inescapable. Liv did have a lot on her plate.
As she was about to round the corner of the building, she wondered just how long Nate and Tristan intended to be in town. Likely just for the wedding. Then they’d sail back to wherever they docked the Ariana and jet over to London? Or did they have different frontier in mind to explore and—
“Oh, shit!” Liv cried out as she slammed into a solid torso, then promptly bounced off of it, stumbling backward. The lid on her coffee popped off and half the contents splashed against her neck and upper chest.
“Goddamn, Liv! What the fuck?”
Her gaze snapped up from where the cold liquid and ice had splattered, drenching her white tank top and lightweight sea foam–colored sweater.
Toby Anderson fumed. “Why don’t you watch where the hell you’re going? Head in the clouds, or what?”
She ground her teeth as she stared up at him. “I can’t see around an entire building, Toby.”
