On the Slopes of Tahoe (Love Along the Way #2)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Breck

“ T hat went well,” I grumble, my eyes glued to Rory’s retreating figure.

I ignore an affronted-looking Jamie, who’s just stepped into my path, and look instead to Willow. “Did you have a good ride, Willow Bear?”

“So good. Jamie pointed out all the ski runs and told me about Tahoe Tessie! They have a water monster here too, just like in Scotland.” I ruffle her hair with a laugh on my lips, but when I look up at the imposing Scotsman, he doesn’t look amused. Best get this over with.

“Willow, I see Jaz over there, why don’t you go say hi?” I say, pointing to where the rest of our group is congregated.

“Okay!” She runs off, and once I see her collide with Jaz’s legs, I look back to Jamie.

“I—”

“Listen, man,” he cuts me off. “I like you. I respect the hell out of Wes, and I know you’re his best friend.” He pauses and points in the direction Rory stomped off in. “Rory is my best friend. She’s as much a sister to me as she is to Wes, and if I see that look on her face after being alone with you again, we’re going to have a problem. Understood?”

I don’t particularly like being taken down a peg by this guy, but I almost don’t mind it. Was I trying to do the right thing and apologize to Rory? Yes. But he doesn’t know that, and I can appreciate him looking out for her. I swallow my pride and my desire to argue, opting for a nod instead. “Understood.”

“Good. I’m going to go find Rory. See you in there for dinner?” Just like that, he’s the same casual, easy-going guy I’ve been slowly getting to know. He’s shown up a fair amount over the last week, whenever we went out for dinner or to hang out at the house in the evenings. Wes treats him like a younger brother, and I want to pretend I didn’t feel a wash of relief just now when he mentioned Rory being like a sister…

I make my way over to Willow, who’s twirling in her dress in front of Jaz and Paul, and the rest of the wedding crew milling about. We all head into the casino where we’re booked for dinner. I just hope Rory will give me another chance to explain. I’d love for us to get back to that easy friendship we were finding… before I put my foot in my mouth and it all went to shit.

I watch the setting sun across the lake through the gable windows and I’m awed at what Rory’s accomplished. The fact that she was able to get us a private room on New Year’s Eve on such short notice seems like a miracle. The space isn’t large, but it’s perfect for the twelve of us. Plus, there couldn’t be a more picturesque backdrop for the evening.

“Rory, bring your camera over here. I want to see some of the pictures you took,” Wes calls down the table.

Joss smacks him across the chest and chastises him with a quiet “Bossy.” He catches her hand over his heart and holds it there, tugging her closer for a kiss. I’ve always been affectionate, but I nearly shield Willow’s eyes from the show he puts on. Paul catcalls them from the end of the table and Rory mimes gagging. The only ones not laughing are Wes and Rory’s parents: Erica’s lips are a fine line, though I think that may just be her face, and Dean looks unimpressed.

Rory stands, camera in hand, and meanders over. I try not to notice the way her hips sway in her fitted green dress, or how the reddish-blonde coloring of her hair pops in comparison. She crouches between Wes and Joss, the slit of her dress showcasing a milky white thigh that I’m certain was covered with tights or something earlier.

Yes, I noticed that too.

I stand and swing my chair around between them so she can sit. Her gaze is assessing, like she’s questioning my motives.

A curt “Thanks” is all I get.

I peek over her shoulder as she taps through the pictures. I’m again reminded of the talent she has for finding the perfect angle of the perfect moment and capturing it with clarity and creativity. I’ve garnered more from Wes about what she does for the ski resort, and though some of her work includes taking photos, it’s not her primary job. It could be though. Her skill level matches any professional photographer I’ve ever worked with.

Joss’s and Wes’s running commentary—accented with laughs and soft smiles—draws more of the group until almost everyone is crowded around us.

“You guys,” Rory says, a blush on her cheeks. “I’ll get an album up in the next couple days. There’s still so much I need to do.” She scoffs a laugh. “The real bride and groom are right here, just stare at them.”

She’s uncomfortable with the attention, and I watch her eyes flick to where her parents are still sitting.

“They’re fantastic, Rory, truly,” Joss says as she pulls Rory in for a hug. “Thank you for doing all of this. Wes told me you had experience with elopements, but to pull off this whole thing and the pictures—color me impressed, sis.”

The color in Rory’s cheeks deepens at the compliment. She parts her ruby red lips to speak, but her mother pipes up from the other end of the table. “What does she mean you have experience with elopements?”

It’s like the moment in a movie when they dub in the sound of a record scratching to a stop, everyone freezing in place, but it’s playing out in real life. Wes’s eyes go round as saucers, apology written all over his face. Joss goes a little pale and grips Rory’s hand. And Rory… looks nothing like her usual open, warm self. I feel like I’m missing something.

Jamie leans forward, forearms pressed into the table. “Rory helped me out a few months back. A friend asked me to officiate, and I asked Rory to take the photos. She did an incredible job. Much like today.” He sends her a wink and her shoulders relax away from her ears.

“Oh, good. Thank you, Jamie.” Relief covers Erica’s tone. “I thought maybe she was still holding on to those silly notions she had in college about photography being a real career.” She dabs the edges of her mouth with her napkin, oblivious to how her words might’ve landed with her daughter. Then, almost to herself but still loud enough we can all hear, she continues. “Although, playing around on Instagram and TikTok isn’t exactly what I’d call a real career either.”

I inhale, ready to jump in, but my words are cut short by Rory’s chair hitting me in the stomach. It knocks the wind out of me almost as much as the hurt in her eyes as she stalks out of the room without another word.

Erica’s muttered “Dramatic” is drowned out by Wes’s shout down the table. “Mom!”

Dean stands and scolds Wes for the outburst, and the rest of us—minus Jamie, who left in pursuit of his friend—are stunned silent.

That went downhill fast. Willow looks shocked and confused by the commotion, and I gather her to me, taking it as my cue to get her home for the night.

I lean in close to Joss and explain that the babysitter I hired to stay with Willow tonight should be at the condo soon, but she still has a guilty look on her face. “I was going to take her home any minute anyway,” I say in her ear, and she deflates.

“What a mess.”

I squeeze her arm. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine, and we’re going to have an amazing night. See you guys in a bit, yeah?”

“Yeah. Good night, Willow, we’ll see you tomorrow.” Willow wraps her arms around Joss and I’m thankful she has someone like her she can look up to. Especially now. She’s going to need new female role models in her life more than ever with Talia gone.

This is the second time I’ve allowed thoughts of her into my mind today, my resolve to keep them at bay having held for the most part. Watching Joss slip the ring on Wes’s finger during the ceremony was when they first hit. How many times had I wished for that moment with Talia? But she never wanted to get married. She said our relationship was enough, parenting Willow was enough. We didn’t need to be married to be a family, but were those all lies? Was that just her way of keeping herself free so she could leave when the opportunity struck?

I shake the thoughts away and slap Wes on the back, the look on his face as he eyes his parents is one I wouldn’t want pointed at me.

“Hey,” I say, and he finally looks at me. “Don’t let it ruin your night. See you back at Rory’s in a bit. We’re still going out, right?”

“Yeah, see you.” He stands and pulls me in for a hug. “Thank you again for today. It meant the world to have you with us.” It’s probably the fiftieth time he’s thanked me for officiating, but it was my pleasure. An honor.

Gripping Willow’s hand, we head out of the room and are quickly followed by Jaz, Paul, Brian, and Isla—all trying to escape the tension we’re leaving behind.

I got Willow tucked into bed, gave myself a pep talk that she’d be fine with the woman my friends helped me vet to watch her, and headed out on the town. We’ve been hopping from bar to bar for the last few hours now.

The music in this one thumps inside my skull, and the amount of people jammed into the small space is obscene. It was common to deal with crowds like this in a huge city like Sydney, but it always seemed less oppressive, more spread out. Tahoe is a small town. A small town currently packed to the gills with tourists that flocked in for the snow and the holidays.

Joss’s dad and little sister are flying out early in the morning, so they opted to stay in. Also, Isla’s only eighteen and wouldn’t have been able to get into the bars like she does in Australia—something she complained about loudly . Brian probably didn’t want to watch Joss suck face with her new husband all night either.

Which is fair, considering that’s exactly what the newlyweds are currently doing. They’re the only ones who didn’t change into something more weather- and location-appropriate. As Wes put it, you only get married once, so they might as well get their money’s worth for the dress and tux.

Jaz and Paul could be a cover couple for a fashion magazine with the outfits they changed into. Jaz’s russet curls that went a little wild in the wind earlier are pulled back, small tendrils framing her face. She’s wearing leather leggings and a slinky red sweater that complements her soft brown skin. The dark green of Paul’s sweater makes her eyes pop when he moves in close to plant a soft kiss on her lips. Jaz pulls back with a smile and swipes her thumb across his cheek before pulling him in for one more peck.

Bloody hell. I’m surrounded.

If things were different, Talia would be here right now. We’d be the ones kissing and making the single people around us sick. The reality of having no one to kiss at midnight hurts more than I expected it to.

Rory and Jamie chat animatedly on the other side of our bride and groom and their never-ending kiss.

“For fuck’s sake, mate, let the woman breathe,” I say in exasperation, and the group around us howls with laughter.

“Got a bit carried away there, didn’t I?” Wes says, unapologetic.

“Maybe a little bit,” Joss says, cheeks red either from embarrassment or beard burn. It’s hard to tell which.

“So, where to next?” I ask, looking around. It’s not yet midnight, but I can tell that for the visiting Aussies—Wes now happily included in that group—their energy is waning. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to go home yet. It’s been a while since I’ve had a night out on the town… the closest being the night Wes and I went out for beers in Sydney last month—the night that changed my life.

The night I found the letter. My hand instinctively grazes my pants pocket, where my wallet sits.

Wes looks at Joss, something heated passing between them. Rory must see it too because she wraps both hands around her throat and mimes being sick.

“Get a room,” she chides.

“We have a room. I think it’s high time we used it.”

“Gross,” Rory counters, and we all laugh.

“I think we’re going to head back too.” Jaz smiles up at Paul. “The hotel said we’d be able to see the fireworks from our room, and honestly, I’m beat.”

Wes turns to Rory, pulling her into a tight hug. “Thank you. For today. For everything.” He presses a kiss to her temple then pulls back. “How’re you getting home? There might not be any cabs with this crowd.”

“I’ll walk. It’s not far,” she says, and he scrunches his nose.

“I’ll walk with her.” I move beside Rory, and Wes instantly relaxes.

“Thanks, mate.” He pulls me in for a hug too. I swear he’s become more of a hugger than even me lately.

Jamie claps Wes on the shoulder, but that’s not good enough for Wes. He embraces him too.

They all stumble into the cold night air, laughing as they go.

“One more drink?” I ask Rory, altogether bypassing Jamie, who’s still standing at her side.

Please say yes. Let me fix this.

“Yeah, okay,” she says, holding my gaze. “One more drink.” Then, with a Cheshire cat grin on her face, she says, “Then dancing!”

She spins in her boots, ones that come up above her knees, and I catch her elbow when she loses her balance. We’ve been out for a while now, but she’s barely had two drinks so I know she’s not drunk, just excited. She’s more carefree than I’ve ever seen her, and I’m glad she didn’t let her parents bulldoze her mood. This isn’t her trying to take care of anyone or impress her parents. This is just Rory, out on the town, looking for fun.

“Dancing, huh?” I scrub my other hand at the back of my neck and try to hide my smile. It’s been years since I went dancing, definitely before Talia and I had Willow.

“Yup. You coming, Jamie?” She doesn’t pull her elbow from my grip and I lazily let my thumb coast up around her bicep. Is it bad that I don’t really want him to come? That I kind of want this time with Rory to myself?

There’s a wide, mischievous smile on his face. “One drink and dancing. Yeah, let’s go.”