“Good luck,” I mutter, as much to myself as True. “If the others are as welcoming as Little Miss Personality at the check-in desk, I’m still screwed.”
True grins. “She was kind of a bitch, wasn’t she?”
“To me!” I give him a weak glare. “To you, she was all, ‘Aloha’!”
He laughs. “Ah, to be cursed with a little charm.”
Charm my ass. I want to argue with him, but I don’t. Mentioning his freaking good looks and hot body doesn’t seem quite appropriate under the circumstances.
Would he even like it if a woman admitted to appreciating his hotness?
“So,” he says, and I’m grateful for the interruption. “Did anybody tell you about the get-together tonight?”
“What?” My gaze flies to his.
He looks back steadily, his expression revealing nothing.
“There’s a family thing. Both sides. We’re all expected to attend.”
I sigh. “Fuck.” It has to be a harsh word.
One eyebrow cocks up and disappears under the messy hair on his forehead. “Fuck?”
“Fuck,” I agree. “That means Susan and Eddie will be there.”
There’s a moment of silence.
“Fuck.”
“Exactly.”
“Okay. Well.” He blinks, wanders over to sit on the edge of the other bed, and I can tell he’s thinking.
Why’s he putting any effort into this? I mean, it isn’t his problem. I’m the one who has to deal with facing Eddie and Susan together for the first time since I saw them fucking in my bed. And I’ll do it. I have to.
Just like all the other times I’ve swallowed my pride where my sister is concerned.
“Okay,” True says again. “Well, then, I’ll go as your date.”
My heart pounds for about three seconds, until I remember the problem with his little suggestion. I smile softly, maybe even gratefully, at him.
“Thank you. Really. The offer is, well, so generous, True. Under the circumstances, I mean.” It’s easy to find an earnest tone, because I really want him to understand how much I appreciate the proposal.
“But,” I add carefully, remembering our earlier misunderstanding. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but . . . you’re gay. My mom knows. She’s already been mean to you about it. I don’t think we’d get the hoped-for response.”
“Bi, actually.”
He doesn’t smile or frown or anything. In fact, his expression is too blank for me to read it at all.
“I . . . what?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I’m bisexual.”
True
Why the hell did I say that?
I have no answer for the question, and it doesn’t matter, anyway, because it’s too late. I can only go with it. Proceed carefully, maybe, but I can’t take it back.
“You’re bisexual?” Arden sounds confused. Or at least uncertain.
“I like women.” I nod with a tiny smile, all I’ve got to give her right now. “I’ve had girlfriends.”
She blinks. “But . . . you like men more?”
My lips twitch for real this time. “Not all men. But I do have a boyfriend, and I love him very much.”
Something twists in her gaze, but I can’t read it. I guess I don’t know her well enough yet. Or maybe she’s just good at hiding what she’s feeling.
Considering the little bit I know about her family, I get the impression that she’s probably learned some important lessons about self-protection. Her sister is clearly a piece of work, and her mom? The older woman looks nothing like Arden—thank God—and doesn’t act like her, either. In fact, Mrs. Lowell is probably one of the bitchiest, most unpleasant women I’ve ever met.
“You’re in a relationship,” Arden finally says softly, and I nod.
“Yeah. His name is Baz—Sebastian—and he’ll be here for the wedding. Day after tomorrow.”
“Oh!” She straightens—stiffens more than anything, if that’s even possible—and nods with what I think is supposed to be enthusiasm. It just looks kind of weird. I’m just not sure why.
“I’ll definitely be out of here by then,” she says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m sure by then the hotel—”
“Don’t worry, princess,” I interrupt. “He’ll be fine with it. I’m gonna tell him all about it, and he’ll be glad to help you out, just like I am.”
But will he?
It isn’t that Baz isn’t a nice guy; he is. Especially when he cares about someone. But after what he has to put up with by managing Wycked Obsession, he treasures our privacy and time alone. Especially because we don’t get enough of it.
The life of a rock band is a little—okay, maybe a lot—fucked up at times.
“Well . . .”
“Don’t worry about it,” I reassure her again. “Why don’t you go ahead and start getting ready for the party or dinner or whatever the hell it is, and I’ll call Baz.”
She gives me a nod and climbs from the bed. I noticed when we met that she’s not really all that tall. Maybe 5’4” or so. For that height, she’s got a lot of leg, and now a pair of sleep shorts and tank top show off her body.
What kind of dumbass would break up with her for her sister?
Arden spends a couple of minutes collecting . . . things—whatever it is that women need to get ready—and then she disappears into the bathroom.
“I’m still going as your date,” I call just before the door shuts.
I hear a laugh, and then her head pops back out around the wooden frame. “You’re sure about that? I might ruin your reputation!”
I give her a naughty smile. “Maybe we’ll let them think you’ve cured me of my wicked ways with all your sexiness.”
The laugh that bursts from her surprises us both. Not sure why she didn’t expect it, but me, because she sounds genuinely amused.
“Like that’s a possibility.”
“Hey, this is Hawaii. Isn’t anything possible in paradise?”
“And when your boyfriend gets here?” she asks with wide, pretend-innocent eyes.
I shrug. “He’ll win me back, of course.”
She raises a naughty eyebrow. “If this is paradise, maybe I’ll win you both.”
Four
Sebastian
I’m sitting in Claire Gallagher’s dining room, my laptop on the table in front of me and a pile of papers spread all around me. I give the whole mess a serious frown but then shake my head. If I’m stuck here in Austin for another day and night, I might as well get as much work done as possible. After that, I’m taking a few blissful days of a much-needed vacation. In Hawaii. With True. Gonna relax on the beach, just my boyfriend and me.
I can see it now: Sand, surf, beer, and a pupu platter. Ocean waves as our soundtrack. Even better, no phone, no computers, no—
I cut the thought off with an inner laugh. Who the hell do I think I’m kidding? I might work less on holidays—a lot less, if True has his way—but I’ll never cut myself off from all modes of communication.