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I’d love to hate the guy, but I can’t. He’s my brother. At his core, a standup guy. He cared so much about me that when he suspected I was a closeted gay, he flew his whole family down here to support me and tell me he loved me.
It might seem backward to some, but there are some folks in Texas who have yet to open their minds, so his idea that I’d try to keep my sexuality hidden isn’t so farfetched. Of course, Sam hasn’t spent time in Houston. Or even the Austin of today. If he had, he’d realize I could be as open as I wanted. Being gay wouldn’t negatively impact my career in the slightest. Not in my city, at least.
“You know, if I really thought you’d be angry, I wouldn’t have done it. But I still felt bad. Like she was yours, and I…really didn’t want you to know.”
“She hasn’t been mine for a long time, Ian.”
He lifts the bar, straining, does his reps, and it clinks against the iron when he’s done.
“I don’t think she’s over you.” God, I hate admitting that to him. “I bet she still has that promise ring of yours.”
“She might. I’m sure Olivia has things from her past. But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t let the past go. Sandra and I, we moved on a long time ago. That’s what people do.”
He might be right about other people, but there’s no denying Sunny’s reaction to seeing my brother.
After a thirty-minute workout, Sam and I grab a quick bite by the family pool. I throw my nieces in the water and let them ride around my back, which leads to shrieks of joy that turn heads and Sam and Olivia telling them to keep it down. Olivia invites us to join them at their private pool, and the girls beg me to go snorkeling with them.
I don’t commit to any plans. All that anger fizzled out into something heavier. I don’t quite have the words for it, but it isn’t a positive emotion. Sadness could be the best descriptor. It’s heavy and weighted. Maybe it’s disappointment. Sam’s arrival forces uncomfortable truths. And it’s time to stop the lies.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Sandra
The Valentine’s Hangover
Seeing Sam rattled my brain. In reiki, they talk about how each chakra is a connection point for one’s soul and body. Well, my chakras took a hell of a hit.
If someone had asked what I feared most, getting caught holding hands with Ian—by Sam, no less—would’ve been at the top of my list. Sam didn’t seem to care. And I didn’t think he would. It’s just that now word will get out, and it will spread like an uncontainable wildfire. His parents will think I’m sick or twisted. All those pitying looks will return full force.
“Ma’am, would you like anything from the bar?” The dark-haired woman in her uniform of shorts and purple Four Seasons collared polo shirt breaks my chain of thoughts.
“No, thank you.” She pointedly looks to the empty lounge chair beside mine. I’d had them spread out the towel on his lounge chair, because they do that here for each guest. It’s the fanciest hotel I’ve ever stayed in my life. “He’ll be down soon.”
She doesn’t care. I don’t know why I’m compelled to tell her that. After Ian left for the gym, I hightailed it down to the adult pool. Yes, it’s the one place I don’t expect to see Sam and Olivia, but it’s also the place we’ve frequented the most this week.
Olivia, god. I place a hand over my queasy stomach. Just thinking about that woman and her reaction yesterday does a number on me. Sure, Sam hadn’t cared. But Olivia did. She’d clung to him like I was a vulture who might attack her husband. Her children were running around like uncontrolled maniacs, drawing frowns from almost all the adults in the area, especially those trying to have a fine dining experience in the ritzy restaurant nearby, and yet she stood right by him. There hadn’t been any animosity in her expression, exactly, but it was more like I was a puzzle piece that didn’t fit, and she wanted to flick me out of the box rather than make me fit. Does that even make sense?
Meeting her was exactly what I expected. Keeping things between Ian and me a secret was for the best. If his parents knew, Mrs. Duke would insist I join them for family gatherings, even if she didn’t want me there, and I’d be in the way, making things awkward for the Dukes. An ex-girlfriend should disappear, she shouldn’t remain around indefinitely. And she definitely shouldn’t show back up on the arm of a brother. Olivia knows this, even if Sam and Ian are oblivious.
And, god, that’s another thing. There’s no way Sam believes we were in Anguilla, of all places, as friends. Maybe if we just end the whole charade, nothing will come of it. Sam might say something to Oliver. If he does, I’ll deny it. Oliver will probably tell Noah and Liam. Liam will tell Jacinda. Noah likes to run his mouth, so he’ll tell someone at one of his restaurants. Rumors will circulate, but if I don’t leave town again for several months and Ian stays in Houston, there’ll be no fan to the flames. Something else will happen, and everyone will eventually forget.
Jocelyn’s baby arriving set off a rumor cyclone. Given enough time, someone else will cheat, and everyone will forget about the possibility of me and Ian. Of course, that’s probably me being overly optimistic. After all, twenty years later, and I still get pats on the hand and sympathetic glances when Sam’s name comes up in conversation. And now I’ll be the one who lost out on two Duke brothers.
What will those expressions look like when the Ian rumor hits the mill? Will I get looks of disapproval? Jealousy? There are a lot of women who’d love to bang a Duke.
I close my eyes and attempt to focus my dismal thoughts on the ascending sun warming my skin. The warmth diminishes, and I open my eyes to check the horizon, and sure enough, a thicket of clouds blocks the sun.
“There you are.” Ian joins me. He’s in swim trunks, flip-flops, and a Patagonia t-shirt. He kicks his shoes off below the lounge chair and lies back on the chaise. Behind his sunglasses, I can’t see what he’s looking at, but I assume he’s looking across the forever edge pool to the ocean beyond. “Sam and Olivia invited us to the beach today.”
A heavy weight sinks onto my chest. Is my third chakra spasming? Or strapping my heart to my physical form?
“We don’t have to go,” he says.
Silence reigns for the next few hours. I pull a blanket over my legs and drift in and out of sleep. I wake from one such sleep to cool droplets along my arms. The sky has darkened.
I gather my things and put them in a tote. A waitperson approaches.
“You don’t have to go. It never rains long in Anguilla.” She adjusts the overhead umbrella, ensuring it covers both of our lounge chairs except for our feet. “You should be fine.”
