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“It was my bachelor party. I drank a lot.”
“Let me guess, you felt like hell the next morning.”
“Yeah.”
“Different than a regular hangover?”
“Much worse,” I answer, and she opens her mouth, only to close it again. “Go ahead and say what you want.”
“It’s none of my business, but why didn’t you look into it? Why did you so readily accept that you didn’t have staying power?”
I scoff. “Because none of the men in my family do.”
“What about Tate?” She arches a challenging brow. “What about your brother? What about James?”
I laugh at that. “James had numerous women in his life over the years.”
“Before your grandmother passed away?”
I look down, search my memory. “Well, no, not that I remember.”
She takes a big breath and lets it out slowly. “I think you need to spend some time asking yourself why you just accepted what the papers wrote about you.”
I fold my arms, lean against the railing. “What are you trying to say, Khloe?”
Her chin nudges upward, her intense gaze locked on mine, unwavering, challenging. “Maybe you didn’t really want to marry Naomi.”
Before I can voice an argument, she steps into the house and disappears. I stare at the spot where she’d been standing, my blood draining to my toes. Jesus, could she be right? Yeah, sure, Granddad had been pressuring me into marriage, but I loved Naomi, didn’t I?
Then why didn’t you fight?
Doors slam inside, and my brain shifts direction. I pull my phone from my pocket and make a few calls to arrange for Khloe to be picked up and for the staff to be waiting for her on the plane. I’m about to shove my phone back into my pocket, but once again I’m thinking about Khloe’s parting words. Naomi was deeply hurt by my actions and deserves to know I wasn’t unfaithful. While this truth won’t change things between us—do I even want it to?—I pull up my contacts and find her number.
I turn to face the ocean, my world a goddamn mess. I swallow as my phone vibrates against my ear. It rings three times before I hear her breathy voice. “Naomi,” I say, and spin when a bang reaches my ear. I turn to find Khloe standing there, staring at me. “What?” I ask.
Glossy eyes meet mine. “Never mind,” she says, and as she darts toward the front door, I have half a mind to go after her. But she’s a reporter who went undercover to take me down, right? Why is it that I’m suddenly not sure of that now? Spending time with Khloe reminded me I hadn’t been living, only surviving. I loved talking to her, doing things with her, taking her to my bed and making sweet love to her, and she’d blossomed under my touch. She’d been so honest and open with me, and the look on her face after working at the school had been pure bliss. No one can fake that. And putting herself out there was all about her, not me. She was volunteering and helping out from the kindness of her heart.
As that thought rings inside my brain, Naomi’s voice pulls me back. “Will,” she says. “It’s been a long time. I’m glad you called.”
“We need to talk.” I drop down into the chair, and run my fingers over the leather binding of Khloe’s journal. A warm breeze washes over my damp skin as I tell her everything. We spend the next hour talking, getting caught up, and I hear a new lightness in her voice. As we talk I learn she’s engaged, and I’m genuinely happy for her. She asks me about my love life, but I gloss over it. The woman I’m in love with played me for a fool. After a long time, a ding alerts me that there is another call coming through. I glance at the screen to see that it’s Granddad. About time.
“Naomi, there is a call coming in I have to take.”
“It was good talking to you, Will.”
“You, too.”
“I hope you can come to the wedding.”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
“I’ll look forward to an invitation to yours when it happens.”
I laugh at that, end the call and switch over to Granddad.
“Granddad, finally.”
“What’s going on, Will? I got a call that my plane is on its way back.”
