Heart in my throat, I leave the dance floor, trying to put as much distance between Ryan and me as possible. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past him to follow after me. But I don’t look back. Somehow, I fear it might hurt more to see he’s not following me.
Tears sting my eyes, blurring my vision, as I duck out of the first open door I see. The moment the cool L.A. air hits my lungs, I suck in a ragged breath. “Fuck,” I whimper, hating how easy it is for Ryan to turn me into such a mess.
I’m just tired. That’s what this is. And I’m probably a little drunk. Nothing some sleep and a few Advil can’t fix by morning.
It’s quieter out here, the sound of the music dampened by the wall of thick glass. Soft golden light stretches out across Hal Price’s manicured lawn. To my left is the open space that leads out to the stage area. To the right is the pool.
I move right, angling for the lounge furniture. I’ll just take a minute to sit and breathe. And I’m taking these damn shoes off. Heck, at this point, I feel like throwing them in the pool.
Maybe I’ll throw myself in too.
Sink to the bottom.
Count to one thousand.
My pity party is interrupted by the sound of a deep voice. I turn the corner to see another secluded seating area. Soft patio lights hang on the underside of an arbor, casting a twinkling, golden glow. Ilmari paces in his shirtsleeves, phone to his ear. He’s speaking low in Finnish.
I studied Latin and Greek in school, and I know just enough Italian to get myself into fun trouble on vacation. My ear desperately tries to pick out even a single word of his language, but Finnish is completely incomprehensible to me.
He turns in his pacing and stills, his eyes narrowing on me.
I give him a little awkward wave.
He surprises me by pointing to one of the empty chairs, inviting me to stay. Then he’s turning away, humming something into the phone. He lets out a soft laugh, pacing to the other end of the oversized sectional.
I drop into the closest chair with a sigh. Sticking my leg out the slit of my dress, my tired fingers fumble for the strap of my shoe. I wanna cry when I finally get them both off, kicking them to the side.
Ilmari finishes his phone call and turns to face me. “Sorry about that,” he says.
“Not at all. I interrupted you,” I reply. “It’s a bit late for a phone call, isn’t it?”
“Not in Finland. It’s nearly one in the afternoon in Helsinki.”
“Right. Was that your agent?”
“My adoptive father. I wanted them to hear from me the news of the wedding before word reached them via the press.”
“And…is he happy for you? Is he sad to have missed the wedding?”
“My aunt is devastated,” he replies, taking a seat on the couch opposite me. “She made me promise to bring them all to Finland this summer.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the pulse of the music thrumming against the wall. I get the feeling something’s bothering him. We’ll call it the particular angle of his scowl.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
He clears his throat and shifts.
“Mars—”
“I fear I may have made a decision in haste,” he admits. “I am regretting it now immensely.”
My stomach drops out. “Ohmygod. Mars, are you having second thoughts? ‘Cause if you walk out on Rachel after three hours of marriage—”
“What? I’m not talking about Rachel—”
I gasp, my hand covering my mouth. “Then is it the guys? If you think you’ll pry her away from them—”
“No,” he says more forcefully. “Will you stop guessing and let me speak?”
“You just said you made a decision in haste,” I counter. “Married after only four months to your doctor and two of your teammates feels pretty hasty to me, Mars.”
“There was nothing hasty in my decision to make them mine. If you would stop talking, and let me speak, I will explain myself. Christ, you’re worse than Jake.”
“Rude.”
“Prove me wrong,” he counters with a glare.
I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest. “Will you just tell me already? Before I freak out or get tired of waiting and jump to the bottom of the pool—”
“I’m afraid I made a bad investment,” he says over me.
Well, that takes the wind right from my sails.
“A bad investment?” I echo. “This is about money?”
He nods.
“Well…how bad of an investment? How big was your risk?”
“Not that kind of investment,” he replies. “A few months ago, I invested in a nonprofit,” he explains. “Rachel warned me not to, but I was feeling…generous.”
I get the feeling the word ‘generous’ is not what he intended, but I say nothing. “How generous were you?” I ask instead.
“Five hundred thousand dollars.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What kind of nonprofit?”
“They do sea turtle nest monitoring,” he replies.
I sit back and blink, confused. “You donated half a million dollars to a group that monitors sea turtles?”
He nods.
“Well…why?”
“It’s complicated,” he replies.
“Try me.”
He just shrugs. “Call it guilt.”
“Guilt? You donated half a million dollars to a sea turtle nonprofit out of guilt? What, did you murder a family of sea turtles? Did you mow them down in a yacht or something?”
“No,” he replies with a frown.
“Well, then I don’t get it. Why would you give so much money away?”
“Consider it my vain attempt to rebalance the cosmic scales,” he replies.
“What?”
“I live wholly unsustainably,” he explains. “Private jets, private busses, hotels, single-use containers for every meal—to say absolutely nothing about the scourge of stadiums on the environment. I just felt like I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do something…anything.”
“Holy fuck,” I say on a sigh. “You’re telling me you look and sound like that, you play hockey the way you do. I’m sure you fuck like a god,” I add. “Our Rachel doesn’t settle for anything less than the best. And you’re environmentally conscious?”
I’m not even surprised when he just nods. Yep, he’s the whole freaking package. No wonder Rachel and her boys locked him down so fast.
I shift forward on my lounge chair. “Okay, Mars. Walk me through it. Why do you call it a bad investment?”
He raises a brow at me. “Are you genuinely interested in this? I didn’t mean to unload my burdens on you—”
“I asked,” I remind him gently. “And of course, I’m interested. Nonprofit management is kind of my jam.”
“I thought you were a lawyer. Something corporate, right?”
I laugh. “I’m a lawyer, yes. And ‘something corporate’ pretty much sums up how interesting my job is. But I also have a degree in nonprofit management. I’ll help you if I can.”
He looks surprised. “Really?”
It feels good to have something to help focus my thoughts. “Lay it on me, Mars. What’s the worry?”
“Well, it turns out the nonprofit is less organized than I would have liked,” he admits. “Less well-funded. Less professionalized.”
“Uh-oh. How bad is it?”
He frowns. “It’s three people and a PO Box.”
I snort a laugh. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. That is bad. I bet you made their day with your generous donation though.”
His scowl deepens as he leans back, crossing his arms. “This isn’t funny, Tess. This is not how I wanted to start my marriage. I don’t want the first action I take to be admitting a gross financial failure to my partners. I need them to see me as capable…responsible.”
“Okay, if it’s possible, I like you even more now,” I admit. “Are you worried they’ll take the money and run?”
“I’m worried they have no idea what to do with it,” he explains. “They admitted they’ve never handled such a large donation before. And there’s no plan in place for the longevity of the nonprofit.”
“Well…it sounds like you need to build the nonprofit from the ground up,” I reply. “You’ve got the cash and you’ve got a few eager volunteers. I think you could build something really cool. I’ve seen nonprofits accomplish more with less. This doesn’t have to be a lost cause.”
He nods, but I can tell he’s not quite convinced.
“What you need is a director of operations,” I explain. “Someone sharp with some relevant experience growing out a brand. And you need to expand out your donor pool immediately. You’d be surprised how quickly half a mil gets eaten up in a budget.”
He gives me an appraising look. “Very well. You’re hired.”
“What?” I cry.
“Director of Operations. You have the job.”
“Mars, I have a job,” I laugh. “A good job. High-powered corporate lawyer, remember?”
“Just give me six months of your time,” he says. “Help me get this on the right track. Whatever your pay is, I’ll double it.”
I laugh again. “Oh, you’ll double my current salary?”
He nods and I’m positive he’s totally serious.
“Okay,” I say. “I accept the position.”
His eyes go wide. “Really?”
“Yep.” I lean forward, rubbing my hands together. “Now, as my first act as your Director of Operations, I’m firing myself, effective immediately.”
“Why?” he grunts.
“I’m way overpaid.”
“Tess…”
“What? Don’t try and cover up one bad financial decision with another one. Mars, you don’t want me as your director anyway. I don’t know a damn thing about sea turtles.”
“Yes, but that’s not really necessary in the director role, is it?” he challenges. “What’s needed is a sound business mind capable of scaling up a brand, you said so yourself.”
“I’m flattered,” I admit, hoping it shows in my face. “Truly, Mars. And it honestly does sound like fun. But my life is in Cincinnati. My job, my apartment, my…family,” I add, my voice faltering a bit.
“I understand,” Mars says at last.
“You don’t know how much I wish I could say yes,” I admit. “Six months in Florida, are you kidding? A little beach air in my hair, all that delicious fried shrimp. Not to mention I miss Rachel like a piece of me has been cleaved away. She’s my best friend, Mars.”
“I know.”
“You three better be so fucking good to her,” I say, pointing a finger at him.
“We will,” he says, getting to his feet.
“You better,” I challenge, rising to my feet too. “Or I am gonna come down there to Jacksonville. And I’m going to chop you up into tiny little bits and feed you to those damn sea turtles.”
He smirks. “Noted.” Then he holds out a hand to me. “Come. We’ve stayed away long enough.”
I snatch up my shoes, slipping my finger through the straps. Righting myself, I let out a little breath. He’s right. It’s time to go back in there. For Mars, it’s the start of something new. For me, it’s the end. He gets to walk in there and say ‘hello’ to his new wife. I get to walk in and say a tearful ‘goodbye’ to my friend, the woman who has been the only home I’ve ever known.
Reaching out, I take his hand.
