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Chapter 17
Dean
I’mtorn.
On the one hand, I’m scarcely able to keep a goofy grin off my face, and my chest is about to explode from the absolute joy that’s inflated my heart to twice its normal size. Even though it’s very soon to be saying this, I know one thing.
Abbi is mine.
But pushing up against the side of that ball of happiness is the dreaded reality that because of me, Abbi is about to have the day from hell. And not just a day. There will be long-term ramifications for her, and I don’t know how to help her.
She was quiet on the drive over to her place, lost in her thoughts, and even though I encouraged her to talk to me about it, she wanted to mull over the issues in silence. Holding her hand and letting her think was a small thing I could do for her, so I did. I offered to have my mom call her boss to somehow iron out the situation, and for a moment, I thought she was going to go for it, but she shook her head and continued to look out the window.
When we reached her building, she tried to put on a happy face and gave me a damn nice goodbye kiss, but I could see the trouble swirling in her eyes. All I could do was ask her to call me if I could do anything to help her in any way. Thankfully, my day’s activities end by sunset, so we’ve made plans to get back together for dinner. She tried to hide it, but she swallowed hard when I gave her hand one last squeeze as she jumped out of the car and strode into her complex’s entrance.
So, now I feel like the most perfect night,fuck what a night, has had a wretched ending, and the guilt settles over my shoulders like a weight. And to make matters worse, I’m off for a day of fun on a superyacht. Yes, that’s right, I’m heading off for a luxury cruise with my closest friends while she goes to work and faces the music.
I’m a real prize.
Today is basically a bachelor’s party, but that’s not really James’ style, and instead, his friend and our work client, Jesper, who happens to own a shipping line, amongst other things, has insisted on taking James and his closest friends out on the boat for the day. Everyone is playing hooky for a Friday of relaxation and sea air.
Jesper’s not exactly short on coin, and I’m bracing myself for a day of life in the absolute lap of luxury. I’ve seen the vessel before—it’s enormous—but I’ve never been on it. James likes to tell the story that he and his wife-to-be fell for each other on the Silver Wind, so it’s a fitting place for a party to celebrate their upcoming nuptials.
When I arrive at the marina, I’m greeted by a receiving line of white-uniformed crew members serving drinks and welcoming guests. Behind them looms the Silver Wind, an enormous superyacht, sleek and stylish. The whole thing reeks of opulence, and I feel a little embarrassed at the excessiveness of it all. James and I are doing very well for ourselves financially, but this is a cut above. And if it didn’t all belong to the friendliest and most down-to-earth German businessman you could imagine, it’d be an outrageous show of wealth. Rather, it’s his way of sharing his good fortune with his friends and employing a small army of locals.
Happily accepting a glass of whiskey older than I am, I step aboard. Today’s get-together will be a small-ish gathering and an eclectic one at that. Makes for an interesting afternoon, I guess. There’s Jesper, of course, who owns the boat, a few work colleagues, and one of James’ old friends, Fraser King, who’s now a judge. I’ve worked alongside him over the years. Chase owns the gym where I occasionally train and has been whipping James into wedding shape over the last few months. Or honeymoon shape, as he likes to joke.
Then there are the dads. Mine and James’. They met years ago when James and I first started working together and have become friends over time. The moms also get along, so it’s a neat little crew, or a pack, depending on the occasion.
Surprisingly, my parents have gone quiet this week, and otherwise, I’ve been too busy to drop by their house and catch up. One thing I’m certain of is that my father won’t waste an opportunity to grill me for information he can take back to Mom. I know he’s only going to be looking for one type of news.
When I reach the top deck, I spot the older men lounging on a built-in bench, deep in conversation. I avoid eye contact and make a beeline for James, standing with Jesper and Chase, and a few other men are scattered around, marveling at the vessel.
“Hey, man. You made it,” my friend calls out as I approach and pulls me in for a half-body hug to accommodate the drinks we’re both nursing and a firm clap on the back. Yep, he’s in high spirits. Both kinds.
“Glad you’re here, Dean. I think you’re the last one. Now we can get underway,” says Jesper in his lilting German accent as he shakes my hand and steps away to speak to his captain, I suppose. Chase is the last one to greet me, and after a knuckle-bruising handshake, he gives my bicep a light punch and grimaces.
“You’ve gone soft. You’re not getting to the gym enough,” he accuses with a teasing grin, and he’s right. Not many people could hurl an insult like that and keep friends, but Chase just has a way about him.
“That’s because he’s in love,” says James, with a more self-satisfied smile than I’ve never seen.
“Jesus, James, straight in, no foreplay. I thought you’d have better form than that.”
He rolls his eyes and looks over at Chase, but if he’s hoping for a support act in the ribbing he wants to give me, he’s chosen the wrong man. Chase is the fittest, most cut individual you could ever come across. He works out religiously, and his body is a freaking temple. But for someone who has the body of Magic Mike—trust me, most guys know who that joker is—he’s on the introverted side. He’s the sort of guy you imagine women must throw their panties at, not only women, to be frank, but he never responds to flirting or innuendo at all.
“I’m going to go and get some water,” Chase says and stiffly walks to a bar next to a hot tub in the corner of the deck.
“What’s up with him?” I ask. Usually, he tolerates our banter, but he seems to be very short-wicked today.
“Girl trouble,” James says with a grin, and we watch the muscle-bound god chug back three-quarters of a bottle of water in one go. I really should get back to training at the gym every day.
“Brother in arms,” I say, although that’s not quite true. I have no trouble with my girl, it’s what’s happening to her right now that has me worried.
“Nah, I’d see it on your face. Things are going well with Abbi.” A statement, not a question. James is a master at reading body language, and he’s got me pegged. My work tends to be client-focused, looking into their problems and quietly resolving them. James, on the other hand, is in court quite a bit, and I pity the people he comes up against.
“Really well. I need you to change the seating chart again.” James gives me a smirk, and I continue. “I know I told you to put me down as a single, but I really want Abbi to come with me, and she’s keen. Is it too late?” I really hope not.
James smiles widely and gives me a light push on the shoulder. “I told Cleo about your call. I was sort of confused when you told me you liked Abbi and you wanted to go to the wedding solo. Cleo explained it very slowly and clearly for me. You like Abbi. Any guy who’s willing to put up with discomfort, a full day of it in this case, and expose himself to scrutiny from his family and friends to ensure that a woman he has feelings for doesn’t think for a second that he’s not above board, is head over heels for said woman. Basically, when you called, asking to be put down as a single, you were thinking of Abbi, not yourself. That’s a big flag, according to Cleo.”
