And For Us (Ripple Effect #3)

Prologue

Seth

Four Months Ago

Pro-tip: Don’t fall in love with your straight best friend. It will only ever end poorly.

My drink is halfway to my lips when my phone rings. Placing the glass down on the counter, I reach for the device. I loathe talking on the phone; so much so, there are only two people I’ll actually answer for unless it’s work related.

Cary.

Years later, even after he’s moved back to South Carolina and gotten engaged to the love of his life, I can’t stop the curve of my lips at seeing his name on the screen.

God, I’m fucked up.

“Hello,” I say into the phone, a slight hesitancy in my voice. It’s late in Indigo Hill, and I don’t usually hear from him past eight his time.

So. Fucked. Up.

“Hey, man,” he says, happiness dripping from his voice. “What’re you up to?”

Before I can answer, he follows up with, “Wait, let me guess. It’s Monday, which means Carina was closed today.

And it’s around,” there’s a pause, “nine there. So you’ve probably poured yourself a glass of whiskey and now you’re about to look over your weekly budget spreadsheet before you go to bed. ”

I groan at how accurate his assessment is, at how well he knows me. “I looked it over before pouring my drink, thank you very much.” My words lack any kind of bite.

He laughs, the chuckle reverberating through me, making my heart beat faster. I shove the feeling away, desperately attempting to lock it back in the depths of my soul where it belongs.

“Do I want to know why you’re calling me all giddy so late?”

His laughter dies off, but I can practically hear the smirk through the phone as he says, “Oh, you sure fucking do.”

Cary is an interesting man. Our friendship started when he moved to Seattle for college—well over ten years ago now.

To say he was emotionally stunted would be an understatement.

But after his breakup with Thea, he made the decision to go to therapy.

Since then—and begrudgingly, I can admit having Thea back in his life may have something to do with it—he’s been much better at expressing how he feels rather than hiding behind a stony exterior.

“Are you going to tell me or is this some kind of weird guessing game I’m going to hate?”

Somewhere in the background, I hear Thea whisper, “Did you ask him yet?”

With my interest piqued, I quickly say, “Ask me what?”

I’m not sure what to expect. Cary moved back to his hometown almost a year ago, so we don’t talk nearly as much.

When he lived in Seattle, we worked together, hung out most weekends, and lived relatively close to one another.

The longest I went without seeing him was maybe a couple days.

I keep saying I’ll visit, but things have been busy at Carina Cove since the restaurant changed hands.

I had to get Travis settled in as the new executive chef after losing Cary. Plus the new investors wanted more weekly numbers than I’d usually have at the tip of my fingers.

And then there was the managing. I quickly realized how much I hated the actual management of employees. Before Cary left, he handled both the kitchen and the front-of-house staff. I was in charge of the bar, which is only a handful of people. It was tolerable.

But the entire staff? All twenty-seven of them? Each with their own issues and personalities and expectations? I’ve hated every second of it. I hated it so much, I convinced the investors Travis would be better suited for the task.

I was right, of course. I always am.

Now, my excuse is a busy start to the year.

So I tell myself I haven’t had time to visit.

I’m not sure how it would go anyway. Thea and I don’t exactly get along.

We haven’t seen each other since she lived here nine years ago now, but with the approaching wedding, I know the time is coming when I’ll run out of viable excuses.

I’m just not sure I’m ready to see them happy and in love with each other again.

It hurt before when we were just kids, but there’s more history now.

“Well, you know we’re engaged.” I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to stave off a headache. Maybe they finally set a date. “And usually, there’s a wedding party involved, you know, best man, maid of honor…” he trails off, and my eyes shoot open.

Is he about to ask me to be his best man?

I assumed he’d ask his brother, Brooks—sure, they weren’t close before he moved back, but still, he’s family.

“Get to the point, Cary…” I keep my voice level, steeling my nerves.

“The point,” he says with more exaggeration, “is I want to know if you’ll be my best man and stand beside me on the big day?”

Holy fuck.

“I—shit. Really? Me?” The cool I was keeping so well before slips.

“Who the fuck else?” he asks. I choose not to state the obvious to him by mentioning Brooks.

“I just… wow. I didn’t expect you to ask me,” I say, and then after a pause that’s bordering on awkward, I add, “Yes. Fuck. Of course. I’d be honored.”

He must give Thea some kind of gesture letting her know I said yes because the sound of her squealing in the background has me pulling the phone away from my ear. It’s a shame I’m not a fan of her, she seems like a decent time.

“Perfect. That’s not all though.”

Of course it isn’t.

“Okay…” I say, hoping he’ll continue without me having to pull it out of him.

“We’re ready to start the expansion of the restaurant here.” He makes it sound like there’s some kind of relevance to the conversation.

“And?”

“And… we want you to be part of it.”

“Part of the expansion? Of Ripple Effect? Thea’s restaurant? In Bum Fuck Nowhere, South Carolina?”

He chuckles like what I’m saying is asinine. “Yes, Seth. That’s the one.”

“Thea—your fiancée, who still hates me, by the way—wants me to be a part of her expansion into a bed-and-breakfast?”

He lets out a tired sigh. This isn’t the first time we’ve discussed my relationship with Thea.

“She doesn’t hate you. She never did. Let’s put the bickering shit aside for the wedding, please.

And yes, she wants you to be a part of it.

She knows how valuable your knowledge is and how much you mean to me.

” There’s a pause, and he quietly adds, “I can’t do this without you, man. ”

I hate it when he says shit like this. I know how he means it, but my stupid heart always wants to twist the words around.

Even worse, I have someone who actually wants to be with me, but I’m too much of a coward to try.

It’s been over a month since the National Whiskey Convention where I saw East in person for the first time in two years after missing last year’s event.

East asked me if we could be more, all vulnerable, green eyed, and rumpled on that bed, and I shot him down.

Went as far as telling him we don’t know anything about each other then bolted from the hotel room.

And we don’t. East isn’t even his real name. But fuck. I wanted to say yes. I wish I had the courage to try. I’m just not ready… Maybe seeing Cary get married will help. It’ll be the final nail in the coffin of our was-never-going-to-happen love story.

Funniest part? Cary doesn’t even know I’m attracted to men. No one in my day-to-day life does. Well, except Iris, and I only told her to get her mind off of everything that went down between her and Cary.

“If you say so.”

“I do,” he says with confidence. “The wedding is in May, but we want to finalize the plans on the expansion before then. How much time do you think you could give us?”

Walking to my dining room table, I pull out a chair and put Cary on speaker as I run my hands through my hair. “How much time? What do you mean?”

“Well, we’re doing a Jack and Jill party instead of individual bachelor and bachelorette parties. Usually the best man and maid of honor plan it.”

“Who’s the maid of honor?” I ask, not that it matters, I don’t know Thea’s friends. I’m just stalling, knowing damn well what my answer is going to be.

“Thea’s best friend, Ripley.”

My brow furrows in confusion. “Sounds like a dude’s name.”

“Because it is.” Oh. How progressive of her.

“Anyway,” Cary continues, breaking up my thoughts. “We need you here for the party, the wedding, and ideally some time before so we can work on the expansion.”

Releasing a deep sigh, I finally ask, “How long do you need me there, Cary? I’ll make it work.”

Because let’s be real, me saying no to Carrington Grant was never going to happen.

A month. That’s how long I agreed to leave my job, my life, my routine. Flying back and forth across the country every weekend for a month didn’t make sense. Carina Cove is pretty self-sufficient, and I have more than enough vacation days accrued since I rarely take time off.

I could have said no. I could have turned down the best man job and told him to email me a copy of the B I’d forgotten that charming detail about Indigo Hill, South Carolina.

Fuck me, this is the last thing I want to do.

I push my chair back, taking my glass to the sink, hand washing it, drying it, then putting it away before grabbing my phone again.

Our texts have been virtually nonexistent since I left him in November, but I scroll to East’s name in my messages anyway.

12/22 9:43 p.m.

Me: You up?

Delivered