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“Jacob, what the hell are you doing here?”
“No, no, no,” Hazel chorused behind me. “No, this is a disaster.”
“I came to find you, bro,” he said and nudged Carly, the bride, forward a step. “And to show my best friend here what an asshole she is.” He nodded to Hazel.
My head swiveled from side to side, connecting dots that were totally fucking faded. “Someone better explain what the fuck is going on, right now.”
“What the fuck is going on?” Carly squeaked. “Apparently, Hazel decided it would be a great idea to have an affair with you. I can’t believe you would do this, Haze. You knew this was supposed to be my weekend. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”
“I didn’t know,” Hazel said. “I didn’t know that they were brothers.”
Jacob snorted. “Please. You expect us to believe that? I’m out of here.”
“No, Jacob, please,” Carly said and cut him off at the door. “Please, don’t leave because of her.”
“She slept with my brother three days after we broke up. My brother! How am I supposed to stand here and take that? How do you expect me to stand up in front of all those people with her right on the other side of the aisle, smiling like nothing’s wrong?” Jacob’s voice didn’t exactly shake with emotion.
He’s the sleazebag who cheated on Hazel?
“Whoa, what does it matter who slept with whom? This has nothing to do with your wedding,” I said.
“Nothing to do with it? Jacob is my best friend, like from high school,” Carly hissed. “He’s the only person I actually care about in the wedding party and now, he’s threatening to leave because he saw his older brother fucking… her on the beach. I won’t stand for it.”
“Carly, I didn’t know,” Hazel said and tugged her hand from my grasp. “I wouldn’t have done anything if I’d known.”
Was that really true? It’d been two pristine, delightful fucks, but she wouldn’t have done it if she’d known I was related to Jacob? The same jackass who hadn’t informed me he’d be visiting one of my resorts? “Bro,” I said and speared Jacob with a look. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”
“How was I supposed to know you owned this place? I don’t keep track of your movements, Bain. Christ, until yesterday. Nice thrust action.” Jacob sneered at me.
I balled up a fist and raised it. “Shut your bitch mouth, kid.”
“Tough talk, eh? You learn that in prison? Or was that part of the thrusting yesterday?”
Hazel swayed past me toward the exit.
All the information I’d meant to impart, the stuff I’d felt I’d owed her, had come out.
Billionaire. Check. Ex-con. Check.
I lurched toward her, bubbling rage forgotten, and caught her hand. “Hazel, wait. We’re going to talk about this.”
Tears streaked down her cheek, and she tugged her arm from my grip. “There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing. This is over.”
“Damn right, it’s over,” Carly announced. “You’ve ruined my entire weekend. First, the fucking bachelorette party where you couldn’t force yourself to wear a smile. Yesterday, you weren’t on the beach to take photos like I asked you to, and today this. You’re out of the wedding party. Pack your shit and leave.”
Hazel didn’t stay to pack. She ran from the room, a blur of pink and yellow, trailing the scent of cherry blossoms.
“Hazel!” I strode after her, but Jacob darted into my path.
“Stop,” he said and placed a palm on my chest. “She’s not worth it, man. If you care about me at all, you won’t go. Come on, we’re family.”
He was my only family, since I didn’t talk to my parents. But Hazel was… a woman I’d known for a day, and one I’d somehow cultivated feelings for in that span. A connection unrivaled by anything I’d felt before.
With her, shit was easy. It was natural.
“Don’t do it, man. I’ll never forgive you. She’s my ex.”
I pushed past Jacob and sprinted out of the room, down the hall. But by the time I reached the lobby, it was too late.
She was gone.
Chapter 7
Hazel
Sunlight trickled between the curtains in my bedroom and slanted across the beige carpet, worn from years of foot traffic. I sat on the edge of my bed and held the stick between my fingers, trembling ever so slightly.
I’d been up since five, first because of nausea, then because of stress, then because I had to run to the convenience store down the street – braving my fear of walking alone in New York for the umpteenth time – and now, because of this.
The two pink lines had etched themselves into my soul.
“Impossible,” I whispered.
It’d been three months since the nightmare of the wedding. The first month, I’d dismissed my missed period as stress. No, actually, I hadn’t even noticed it. The second month, I’d thought, okay, definitely stress.
