Although Quinn had us paged over the intercom, it wasn’t because we were actually late; she was just being high maintenance as per usual. Thayer was high maintenance in her own way, but it was nothing compared to her sister. Quinn would have been legitimately surprised to learn the world didn’t revolve around her.
As for being interrupted, I wasn’t sure whether I was annoyed or grateful. Maybe both. My head wasn’t on straight lately to begin with, and that kiss hadn’t helped. I needed to focus on my real priorities, like the financial fiasco known as my company.
All I could think about was the way Thayer sighed when our lips met in the restaurant, melting a little against me; the way her fingertips dug into my shirt; and the way I forgot about everything else, which had never happened with anyone before. Not to mention, whatever the hell happened at her place last week. My sanity was as stable as a house of cards, and my willpower was even shakier than that. I was used to getting what I wanted, quickly. And right now, I wanted her.
Things were volatile enough with Thayer—the last thing I should have been doing was tossing matches at it. Logically speaking, I knew that. But my lower half didn’t care about logic, which was why my thoughts kept boomeranging right back to those flame-throwing scenarios.
Thayer scanned the surrounding terminal with a frantic air about her. “Is there a Starbucks around here? I didn’t sleep a wink last night, and I need some coffee.” She craned her neck, looking over my shoulder. “And by some, I mean an entire vat. But if I make Quinn wait any longer, I think she’s going to demote me from Maid of Honor.”
“You go sit down with her, and I’ll grab some,” I offered, jumping at the chance to escape. We still had half an hour until boarding, and I wasn’t eager to face what lay ahead. “Text me if you need anything else.”
“Okay, but it’s my turn to pay.” Thayer came to a halt and unzipped her shoulder bag, pulling out her cream pocketbook. Before she could locate any cash in her wallet, I waved her off and started to head for the shops at the other end of the hall.
“It’s fine, I got it.” I might have been in dire straights financially, but I wasn’t that broke. Yet, anyway.
“I insist.”
“This is like, ten bucks we’re talking about,” I said, turning back to face her. “I’m not taking your money.”
She gave me a smile that was more like baring her teeth. “At least let me pay for my half, honey.”
“We’re not going halfsies on a coffee, sweetie.”
What was this, junior high prom? A tenth-grade date?
Thayer narrowed her eyes, and I returned her gaze evenly, the two of us engaging in some weird, silent standoff in the middle of the airport terminal. Loudspeaker announcements echoed in the background. Travelers milled around us, pulling their rolling suitcases and herding rambunctious children.
“Fine, but I’ll get it next time.” Her lips pressed together, and she heaved a reluctant sigh. “Thank you.”
Starbucks was swamped, and the line moved so slowly that I could have grown the fucking coffee beans myself, thanks to some guy three people ahead of me who ordered a boatload of custom Frappuccinos with extra whipped cream, caramel sauce, and chocolate shavings. Never understood people who wanted a milkshake at nine in the morning, but whatever. I tipped the barista extra for having to put up with that shit.
When I returned with two grande black coffees, the seating area had filled in significantly. Thayer was sitting beside Quinn, with Millie perched on the other side. Two more women I didn’t recognize sat next to Millie, rounding out their group.
Adam and a few of his groomsmen were seated on the bench behind them, laughing boisterously at something on Adam’s phone—drinking Frappuccinos. One of his groomsmen was the guy from the Starbucks line. Of course.
My grip on our drinks tightened as I drew closer, unsure where to sit. There seemed to be a male/female, bride/groom divide going on, but I wanted to punch the groom in the throat, which complicated matters greatly.
I walked up to Thayer and the rest of the bridal party, holding out her coffee and a bottle of water. “Sorry it took so long, line was crazy. I grabbed you a water, too.”
Surprise graced her face, followed by gratitude. “Thank you.”
Given that no one moved to make space for me, it was clear that my kind wasn’t welcome on her bench. Reluctantly, I joined Adam and his friends on the other side of the gate, where I was introduced to Henry and Dylan, plus Louis who I was unfortunately already acquainted with. He was right below Adam on my list of Most Hated People. Almost tied, after he tried to make a move on Thayer at her mother’s party.
As luck would have it, somehow, they were already wasted—and it showed. Loud, boisterous, and unruly, they fit the stereotype of obnoxious American tourists to a T. I mean, I wouldn’t have minded another drink or five, but I could keep it together in public.
Spending time with them was like getting a second-hand lobotomy. An hour later, after being forced to watch some of the dumbest YouTube videos I’d ever seen and one somewhat entertaining clip of a golden retriever puppy, I heard music to my ears.
“Now boarding Sunscape Airlines flight 2535 to Cancun.”
“AT LEAST IT’S FIRST CLASS,” Thayer said, offering me a consoling smile.
I took her carryon from her and hoisted it into the overhead compartment beside mine. “Adam must have had some airline points to redeem,” I muttered under my breath, sinking into the navy leather window seat. I’d circled back to the whole window vs. aisle topic while boarding the plane, but it was a non-starter. At least I was sitting with her and not with the bonehead bros. I suspected Quinn knew Thayer hated flying and thought her ‘fiancé’ would be more comforting.
Thayer sat down and nudged me with her elbow. “You have to play nice this weekend, remember?”
“It’s not like he heard me.”
Leaning forward, she reached into her carry-on bag stashed under the seat in front of her and pulled out a long, woven grey scarf. She unfolded it, and suddenly, it was big enough to cover our entire row.
“You brought your own blanket?”
“It’s a pashmina,” she said, like I should know. “Airplanes are cold. And I’m not using their blankets. God knows when they were last laundered.”
This explained the gigantic oversized, overstuffed suitcase she’d brought along. Maybe she’d packed her own pillows, too. Or a mattress.
We pretended to listen while the flight attendants walked us through the usual safety spiel, and the plane began to taxi the runway, preparing for takeoff. When the engines roared to life, Thayer gripped the arm of her seat, knuckles turning white.
“I thought you weren’t afraid to fly.”
“I’m not,” she gritted out. “I’m afraid of takeoff.”
Wasn’t that the same thing? Either way, it wasn’t going to help either of us if she was coiled tighter than a jack-in-the-box for the whole flight. I reached over, squeezing her hand gently. She eyed it like a poisonous snake for a moment, then sighed and squeezed it back.
“Breathe,” I said, rubbing the back of her hand with my thumb.
“If I wasn’t breathing, I’d be dead.”
“Here.” I shifted my weight and placed my elbow on our shared armrest, patting my shoulder. “Just close your eyes and rest for a minute. We’ll be up in the air in no time.”
Thayer regarded me warily for a few seconds. “Fine.” She yawned, gingerly laying her head on my shoulder. “I didn’t sleep much last night. Hopefully I conk out and wake up in sunny Mexico. Or if we crash and die, at least I won’t know what happened.”
“Well, that’s grim.”
Even with half a grande coffee in her system, Thayer was asleep by time our plane hit cruising altitude. She clutched my shoulder, curled up with her shawl-blanket draped over her body. Her breaths were slow and even as her silky hair spilled down my shoulder, tickling my arm.
It felt oddly intimate, which was funny considering that she’d had her tongue in my mouth on more than one occasion recently. But I didn’t mind it, either. Not that I was going to admit that to anyone else.
Adam strolled up, perching on the arm of the empty seat across the aisle from us. “She’s out cold already?”
“Looks like it.” I wished I were out cold too, so I didn’t have to make conversation with him. Suddenly, I was glad to be in the window seat with Thayer between us. I craned my neck, searching the aisles for a flight attendant in hopes one would direct Adam back to his own seat, but sadly, there were none to be found.
His eyes scanned my face, hint of trademark smugness peeking through. “How are things going with Callaghan?”
“In progress.” The middle of first class wasn’t the time or place to discuss this, especially not with him. But outwardly, I didn’t want him to see me sweat. It would be the equivalent of blood in the water to a shark, and I refused to be bait.
“You won’t need to worry about me,” he said casually. “I already secured funding elsewhere.”
Son of a bitch. This was both good and bad news.
“Did you now,” I murmured.
“Yup,” he said. “Family helps family, right?”
Fine, I’d bite. “Richard?”
Adam cocked his head, triumph in his eyes. “Thomas.”
I glanced down, pretending to check on Thayer to conceal the shock on my face. Holy shit. Thomas was Thayer and Quinn’s father.
Both sisters received a generous annuity from their trust funds, but they didn’t get financial help beyond that. Thayer had specifically mentioned that her mother and her husband made a rule to avoid mixing business affairs with their family life. She and Quinn had even taken out bank loans to finance a good portion of their stores.
Thomas had the money, though. Five million dollars was pocket change to him. Which brought me back to my initial skepticism about Adam’s motives with Quinn.
Did Thayer know about this? If she did, would she even tell me?
No matter how much Thayer said she hated Adam, she loved her sister—and Adam’s interests were intermingled with Quinn’s.
“Guess that means it’ll be up to the development board’s approval,” Adam added. “May the best project win, right?”
I gave him a bland smile. “Exactly.”
All things being equal, there was no way the city would go with his project. I knew the architecture firm he’d commissioned for the development, and their designs were as tacky as he was. But all things weren’t equal until I secured the funding to back our bid.
“Anyway, are you going to join us for the festivities tomorrow night?” He waggled his brows.
“What’s that?” I had a sinking feeling that the bride/groom divide was going to dominate much of the weekend. We may have had our disagreements, but I’d rather stay with Thayer than Adam and his douchebro buddies. She smelled better and was infinitely easier on the eyes. Easier on the brain, too.
“Hitting up Señor Bongos in Cancun.”
For the love of God. Señor Bongos was somewhere you went when you were nineteen on spring break. But we weren’t nineteen, we were in our mid-twenties, which put us firmly in the ‘too old for that shit’ category. We would seem like old creepy dudes to all the college kids there. If Adam wanted to dance and get wasted, surely there were classier, more age-appropriate venues to do that than Señor fucking Bongo’s.
Or maybe he wanted to be surrounded by college coeds. Sadly, I couldn’t rule that out.
“Quinn too?” At least if the women came along, it would minimize our creep factor.
“Nah.” He shook his head. “Boys’ night. I don’t know what their plans are. Probably the spa or some lame girly shit like that.”
“Right…” The spa sounded better to me than Señor Bongos. Then again, so did a hot poker to the eye.
Though, if Adam was half as shady as I suspected, I might be able to get some dirt on him at the club—preferably in photographic form. I’d love to repay that favor.
“Are you in, or what?” He prodded. “It’s my last weekend of freedom, remember? The groomsmen gotta stick together.”
Thayer groaned softly, mumbling something in her sleep about matching shoes. She shifted and reached over, hugging my right arm with both of hers like a koala clinging to a tree. As a rule, I didn’t like cuddling, and with anyone else, it would have made me feel claustrophobic. With her, it was kind of endearing.
I didn’t want to examine the implications of that too closely.
“I don’t want to wake her,” I said, lowering my voice and glad for the excuse. “But we can talk at the resort later to make a plan.” Or I could hide in my hotel room and drink myself into oblivion via the mini bar, which sounded like a far more appealing option.
The plane hit an air pocket and jerked suddenly, followed by a second, smaller jolt. Thayer stirred again. With a ding, the fasten seatbelt sign lit back up like a signal from the heavens above. A blonde flight attendant emerged from the galley and made her way down the aisle, checking seatbelts.
“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to return to your seat now.” She motioned to Adam’s seat, over on the other side of first class. Thank God she’d appeared when she had, or he might have settled into a seat in the empty row across from us instead.
Adam rolled his eyes. “Catch you later.”
Once he was safely out of the line of sight, I let out a groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. The drinks from earlier were rapidly leaving my system, sobriety rendering me painfully aware of reality.
There were so many things wrong with what Adam had just said, I didn’t know where to begin. Last night of freedom? Pretty sure his freedom ended when he got a serious girlfriend. Or at least, that’s what Quinn seemed to think. Though I’d heard enough rumors to believe he was sneaking around on the side. Credible sources, too.
I hated knowing that. I hated not telling Thayer even more. But she would tell Quinn and it would absolutely, positively end up in a case of ‘shoot the messenger’—Thayer, myself, or both of us. Especially when I didn’t have solid proof. It would be entirely my word against his, and for some bizarre reason, a lot of people considered Adam the more credible source.
Somehow, he had everyone fooled. When I was younger, I hadn’t seen it myself, but he was a sociopath in a designer suit, always looking out for number one at the expense of everyone else around him. He would step on your face to get an extra nickel that he didn’t even need.
In retrospect, Adam’s behavior with respect to women should have tipped me off about his character. Cousin or not, I shouldn’t have been surprised when he turned around and stabbed me in the back. He’d been telling me who he was the whole time; most people did.
Unless they were Thayer, in which case they didn’t let anyone so much as scratch the surface.
