Three Grumpy Groomsmen

16. Harrison

CHAPTER 16

Harrison

I was never actually going to text Cara for a date. I would have if Ford agreed to go out on a double date, but he didn’t, because Ford never fakes anything.

He has feelings for Ivy and he isn’t going to pretend he doesn’t.

I’m a different story.

My house is on a golf course. Do I golf? No. I pretend to golf because everyone thinks I should want to golf.

Like just about everything in my life.

I pretend that I’m not lonely.

I pretend that I don’t worry that if I wasn’t gifted with the privilege of my family’s money, I wouldn’t be all that successful.

I pretend that it doesn’t bother me that people have treated me like a superficial playboy to the point that I’ve just allowed that perception to be real.

And I pretend that when I date I don’t hold back because I don’t trust that someone cares about me for me, and not for my money.

I’m pretending that I’m not in love with Liam.

That’s gotten under my skin and rubbed me raw.

I’m in love with Liam and I’ve been a total dick to him.

Using my phone, I unlock the gate to the private community I live in and drive down the winding streets, past the perfectly manicured mansions. When I first got access to my trust fund at twenty-one, I bought a beach house, but then I quickly realized that most of my neighbor’s houses were vacation properties and used as short-term rentals when they weren’t in residence. It never felt like a true neighborhood, so I turned my own into a rental and moved into this golf course community.

Which also doesn’t feel like a neighborhood because no one walks or bikes in it. Everyone stays in their own tricked out backyards and when they do venture out onto the streets, it’s in a golf cart zipping past the other houses with barely a wave in anyone else’s direction.

This isn’t what I want either.

That’s why I enjoy being at the restaurant—I like being around people. I love the hustle and bustle and the energy of both the staff and the people dining. Raw has become known as a place to celebrate milestones in life and the joy that surrounds birthdays, baby showers, retirements, and engagements is cool to watch. I like that we’re contributing to relationships.

Brad always likes to say food is love, but Brad is a bigger dick than me, so where the hell does that leave me and my understanding of life?

Alone.

That’s where it leaves me.

I pull my Porsche 911 into my three-car garage and enter the house through the mudroom.

When I first bought this house, I envisioned using this mudroom as storage for sports equipment but I keep the big items like my kayak and my clubs in the garage. This mudroom is like a mockery of my single life, with its individual locker-style cubbies. It’s meant for backpacks and beach bags and floppy hats and most of the hooks just stick out forlornly, serving no purpose.

I had said something to my family about the wasted space once and my father had grinned. “So get married,” was his response.

My grandfather wasn’t even remotely kind about it. “No one wants to hear your first world problems.”

“Sell the house,” my mother—who is a real estate agent—said. “The market is hot. You’ll make a twenty percent profit.”

In the end, I had taken my grandfather’s advice and made sure not to complain to anyone anymore. I am fortunate. I know that.

No one wants to hear the rich guy complain about being lonely, especially when he shoves everyone he meets away with jokes and unanswered texts.

Dumping my phone onto the charging pad in my kitchen, I turn and almost have a fucking heart attack. My housekeeper, Clarissa, is standing in the doorway with a mop in her hand.

“Harrison! I didn’t think you’d be home so soon. I’m sorry. I’m almost done here.”

“You’re fine. I forgot you were coming today.” I like Clarissa a lot. She has five adult children, including a daughter who Ford, Brad, and I went to high school with, and six grandkids that she is constantly showing me photos of. She’s sixty-something, slight, and capable of making every surface shine without even breaking a sweat.

I used to feel guilty as hell for having a woman twice my age cleaning my ridiculously large house but when I said something to that effect as a joke, she had turned pale and explained how much she needed this job because her husband is a diabetic and the medication is expensive. Which made me feel even worse, so I gave her a hefty raise. So now I have probably the highest paid housekeeper in the entire Low Country.

“Any weekend plans?” she asks, taking her bucket to the laundry room and dumping it.

Not a one. “Nope. You?”

“I’ve got the youngest grandkids so my Katie can work her shift at the hospital. By the way, she told me Brad’s wedding got canceled.” She comes back out of the laundry room. “That’s such a shame.”

Was it?

I picture Ivy, eager to indulge in my roadside stops, laughing at the honky-tonk while dancing with Liam. I remember her eager cries of pleasure in the bed next to me and Liam as Ford stroked her pussy to an orgasm.

I don’t think it was a shame at all that Brad let a woman as free and fully herself as Ivy go.

Holy shit.

I have feelings for Ivy, too.

Immediately, I open the refrigerator, even though I have no interest in anything inside it. I just need the flat-paneled door to hide my heated face from Clarissa.

“I don't think people should get married unless they’re very sure they want to get married,” I say to the eggs. All the contents of the fridge start to blur together, as it feels like my entire world has just shifted beneath my feet.

I don’t know what to do with this new information.

Ford would kill me if I told him. I think. Would he? Probably.

Then there’s Liam. With him it’s real. He likes me for who I am.

Fuck.

Complicated, adorable, easily ruffled William.

Who is now with Ivy, if that kiss outside the motel room was any indication.

“I don’t think that’s true at all. I threw up the morning I married Sam because I was so nervous. I thought I was making the biggest mistake of my life. Turns out it was the best decision I ever made.”

I close the refrigerator. “So I should marry the first person who makes me throw up?”

Clarissa laughs. “No! Just the person who makes you feel so much that it feels like your heart is in your throat every time you think about them.”

Like Liam.

“I pity whoever that person is,” I joke. “Getting stuck with me is no picnic.”

Clarissa reaches up from her barely five feet tall height and pats my cheek. “Hush. You’re a good man, Harrison, even if you don’t believe it yourself.” She steps back. “Now pick up the phone and call whoever it is that has put that look on your face. Love is risky business, but you’re up for it.”

Maybe I could be.

“Sam’s a lucky man,” I tell her.

“Damn right he is.” She gives me a grin.

That makes me laugh.

“Okay, I’m heading out.” She gives me a wave and picks up her purse off the kitchen counter. “Your phone is dinging.”

“Thanks. Have a great weekend.”

I walk to my phone and pick it up.

It’s a text from Liam. I have his name in my phone as William the Cock Conqueror. He probably wouldn’t appreciate knowing that. But it’s a well-earned label.

My heart is pounding hard as I grab the phone and open the text. It’s actually a group text thread. I hit info and see it’s Liam, Ivy, Ford, and me.

Ivy and I are in Honeysuckle Harbor. The four of us need to talk.

I text back immediately.

Agreed. Want to meet at Raw? Glad you made it here safely.

Ivy responds.

Somewhere more private.

I really like the sound of that. We have unfinished business.

This is my chance to pry open my mouth and actually admit how I feel—about both of them.

Love is risky business.

I’m not going to blow this opportunity.

Come to my house. 354 Worthington Way. I’m home now.

Liam answers.

On our way.

Great. See you soon.

Then I pick up the phone and call Ford.

He answers with, “I’m not coming over so don’t ask.”

I go into my wine cellar and pull out a couple of bottles of different white wines, since I don’t know what they like. I pop them in the fridge to chill as I tell Ford, “Get your ass over here now or be miserable for the rest of your life.”

“No.”

“I’ll stop being your friend.”

It’s an empty threat, and he knows it.

“No, you won’t. Harrison, I can’t. I’m in love with Ivy. I can’t watch her hanging all over Liam.” He sounds miserable and tortured.

“You need to come over because you’re in love with her. What if she wants to come over to tell you they’re just friends after all? Or that she’s in love with you, too?”

“You sound excited,” he complains. “Why are you excited?”

“Because they didn’t say we need to talk because they want to settle up the minibar bill. They have a reason and I’m convinced it will result in all of us very naked and very happy.”

“You think?”

He sounds doubtful, but with a glimmer of hope.

“I know so,” I say confidently, even though I have no idea if I’m right or not.

But we can’t deny that something was simmering on that road trip and it was between all of us. I’m going to do my best to make it happen, even if it means letting my mask slip a little. I’ll be vulnerable as fuck if it means I can have Liam and Ivy in my life.

“But what if…”

“Fuck the what ifs,” I tell him. “You’ll what if the rest of your life if you don’t at least hear Ivy out.”

I can practically hear him nod.

“Fuck it. You’re right. Let me finish up here and I’ll be over.”