Chapter 20 Vince
Vince
The afternoon sun streams through the reception hall’s floor-to-ceiling windows as we follow wedding event coordinator Olivia through her venue walkthrough.
She moves with the crisp efficiency of someone who’s coordinated hundreds of weddings, tablet in hand, checking off items that exist only in her mind.
“We’ll have the ceremony here at the water’s edge,” she explains, gesturing toward the beach where an archway will be positioned to frame the ocean view. “Sunday’s late afternoon light should be perfect for the golden hour, but we’ll have the backup plan ready in case weather becomes an issue.”
Adrian walks beside her, jotting notes down when Olivia rattles off numbers or details.
She’s folded him into her rhythm without missing a beat, treating him like he’s part of her coordination team rather than just Becca’s friend tagging along.
The way she delegates tasks to him feels natural and confident, making his presence seem less like a favor and more like genuine professional support.
“The lighting for the reception will be key,” Olivia continues. “Especially with the new floral plan. Adrian, your friend, Javi, is still available for Sunday afternoon setup?”
“Confirmed,” Adrian says without looking up from his notes. “He’ll be here by noon to test everything before the ceremony.”
Olivia’s phone buzzes insistently. She glances at the screen and frowns. “I need to handle this vendor issue. Adrian, can you take them through the rest of the walkthrough? You’ve got all the details.”
“Of course,” Adrian says.
“Perfect. I’ll catch up with everyone later.” Olivia hurries off, already answering her phone as she disappears around the corner.
A car pulls up to the main entrance. Through the glass, I see a petite Asian woman step out. Late twenties, maybe, with sleek black hair tied back in a neat ponytail and the sure, efficient stride of someone used to long hours on her feet.
“That’s her,” Adrian says, his voice carrying the first trace of warmth I’ve heard from him today. “Ayaka’s got an incredible eye for florals. You’re going to love what she brings.”
She spots us through the windows and waves, balancing a large folder and a bucket of fresh-cut samples as she heads toward the entrance. There’s confidence in her movements that comes from experience, from knowing she can take a vision and make it bloom.
She pushes through the doors, and her face lights up when she sees Adrian. They embrace like old friends, with real affection and shared creative history. I catch the faint smudge of green on her fingertips, the kind that never quite washes out after working with stems and leaves all day.
“Adrian!” Her voice is warm and bright, carrying a slight trace of an accent I can’t place. “You look good. It’s been like, what, almost five years since that trip I made to L.A.?”
“I can’t complain,” he says, and I can hear genuine happiness in his voice. “Thanks for coming on short notice.”
“Are you kidding? This is exactly the kind of challenge I live for.” She steps back, looking around at the space with an artist’s assessing eye. “Besides, when you described the venue, I got about six different ideas immediately.”
They fall into a quick professional conversation about logistics and timing. Adrian contributes when needed but doesn’t try to dominate the discussion. It’s clear he respects her expertise.
“And you must be the infamous groomsmen,” Ayaka says, turning to our group with a grin. “Adrian’s told me way too much about all of you.”
“Good things, I hope,” Trevor shoots back, his own grin easy and unbothered.
“Mostly.” Her eyes twinkle with mischief. “Though there was something about a stripper incident that sounds highly entertaining.”
Lance laughs. “That wasn’t entirely our fault.”
“It never is,” she says with mock seriousness, then turns to George, Lance, and me.
George and Lance introduce themselves, George with his usual nod and grunt, and Lance with his easy charm. Then her attention turns to me.
“Vince,” I say, taking her hand.
She pauses, studying my face. Then her expression shifts, recognition dawning like sunrise.
“Vince Holloway,” she says, and there’s something in her voice I can’t identify. “Holy shit.”
Adrian goes very still beside her.
“I mean, sorry. I remember you,” she says, her grip on my hand tightening just enough to make it clear. “From high school. You took art for the last term, didn’t you?”
My stomach drops. “Yeah. That’s right.” I scramble, trying to place her face, but it’s a blur. Maybe I did see her back then. I’ve always been shit at remembering people.
“I knew it. You obviously don’t remember me.” She releases my hand but doesn’t step back. “I still remember you two in the art room after school. Adrian was so obvious with his crush back then.”
The memory hits me like a physical blow. The smell of chalk dust and fixative. Afternoon light streaming through those tall windows in the old wing. Adrian’s easy laughs and little glances at me that I didn’t know what to make of at the time.
“Ayaka,” Adrian says quietly, warning in his voice.
But she’s clearly delighted by this unexpected reunion. “Oh man, the stories I could tell about this one.” She gestures at Adrian with her thumb.
My face feels hot. Adrian’s jaw is tight, his professional composure finally showing cracks.
I completely forget we have an audience.
Lance’s eyes widen, understanding hitting him first. “Wait, you knew each other?” His voice is sharp, disbelief cutting through. He looks between me and Adrian, bewilderment and realization warring on his face. “So you’ve actually…known each other this whole time?”
Trevor’s expression shifts from confusion to shock. “That explains the last few fucking days,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.
George frowns, confusion flickering across his features. He closes his eyes briefly and shakes his head, pressing his lips together as if to stop himself from saying anything aloud.
My gaze sweeps over them, steady but tense. I can see the shock simmering behind their eyes, the restraint in their posture, and I let it be. I don’t need their words right now, just the quiet, uneasy acknowledgment of what they’ve realized.
Ayaka’s expression shifts to apology. “Oh, wow, I didn’t realize that was…a secret or something. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”
“That was a long time ago,” Adrian says, voice carefully neutral.
Ayaka’s smile becomes knowing. “I mean, you’re both here now, and you look so good together. I’ve always wondered what happened after graduation, especially after things didn’t work out with the scout.”
The world stops.
“I was so worried when you told me about trying to commission that mural for the football college scout back then,” she continues, oblivious to the way the air has suddenly become unbreathable.
“I thought it might be too risky, trying to help Vince by proposing you do some work for him and ask him to reconsider your man’s scholarship.
But obviously things have worked out, and you two ended up together. ”
The words hit me like a physical blow, but they don’t make sense. Nothing about what Ayaka is saying makes any sense.
What the fuck is she talking about?
My mind reels as I try to reconcile her casual comment with the memory burned into me, the one with Adrian stepping out of that hotel room, disheveled and guilty. Years ago, I swore I wouldn’t forget that moment, and I’d never let that kind of pain touch me again.
“Ayaka.” Adrian’s voice cuts through the moment like a blade, quiet and patient, but firm.
“We’re not together. We haven’t been together.
” He pauses, and I can see him choosing his words carefully.
“I’m here doing coordination work for Trevor’s wedding.
Vince is his best man. We haven’t seen each other in years. ”
The silence that follows is deafening.
Ayaka’s face drains of color, her hand flying to cover her mouth. “Oh god. I…I’m so sorry. I thought…” She looks between us, horror dawning in her eyes. “I just assumed…you and him here together…”
Trevor stands frozen, his mouth slightly open like he’s been slapped.
Lance has gone completely rigid, staring at me with something between disbelief and betrayal written across his face.
George just closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face, like he’s trying to process information that doesn’t compute.
“It’s fine,” Adrian says, smiling at her, but his voice is strained. “Just…a misunderstanding.”
But it’s not fine. Nothing about this is fine. The air feels thick, suffocating, and I can feel my friends’ eyes boring into me like accusations.
“We should focus on the ceremony space,” Adrian says, and his voice cuts through the noise in my head. “Shall we go have a look?”
My head’s spinning. None of this adds up.
Later, when we’re finally alone on the terrace, the confrontation I’ve been dreading begins.
“All this fucking time, Holloway.” Lance’s voice is flat, trembling beneath the surface. “You knew him. And you never said anything.”
I lean against the railing, staring out at the water like the answer might float by on the waves.
Trevor steps beside me, his voice tight and raw with hurt. “We’ve been your friends for years. We tell each other everything. Everything. I didn’t even know you liked a guy. I mean, I know that doesn’t matter, mate, but seriously? You just…kept this? Even from me?”
“And this changes everything.” George’s voice is quieter, but it cuts like ice. “You let us…you let us touch him. You were there while we…” He stops, shakes his head. “If we’d known he meant something to you…”
“He doesn’t,” I say, almost without thinking. “He shouldn’t.”
“Bullshit,” Trevor exclaims, clearly not having it.
Lance exhales like he’s trying to shake the air out of his chest. “We thought we were all just messing around. What are the fucking odds? Out of all the strippers in the world…it had to be him, your high school fucking sweetheart. This is insane. How the hell does that even happen?”
I shrug, keeping my tone flat, careful not to let the guilt leak through. “He’s not really like that. It didn’t go…that far.” And carefully, I add, “I was fine with it. I was fine with it all happening.”
“Were you?” George asks, voice low, incredulous, sharp. “Now your reaction at the gym with me makes sense.”
“It was ten years ago,” I cut him off. “High school. Ancient history. A different life. Adrian is obviously free to do whatever he wants.”
“Then why the hell have the last few days been such a mess?” Trevor’s voice cracks with frustration and hurt. “All this time, I thought you just didn’t want him around because he wasn’t one of us, because he’s some kind of an anomaly in your otherwise perfectly structured life.”
I don’t answer. There’s nothing I can say to untangle the sick twist in my stomach, the way Ayaka’s words keep looping, colliding with my memories.
I look out over the water. The ocean seems calm, almost mocking, like it knows something I don’t. “I guess I’ve been blind to a lot,” I say finally, my voice low but clear. “This time, I think I need to actually listen.”
The silence stretches between us, heavy with everything unsaid. Then Trevor steps closer, his voice softer than it’s been all afternoon.
“Look, you must have had a good enough reason why you couldn’t tell us.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustration and understanding warring in his expression.
Lance nods slowly. “We’re not mad about the history, Holloway. We’re mad because you’ve been carrying this alone when you didn’t have to.”
George uncrosses his arms, his posture relaxing slightly. “You should have trusted us. We would have understood.”
Their words hit me harder than their anger did. They’re hurt, yes. They feel betrayed by the secrecy, absolutely. But underneath all of that is the same thing that’s always been there—that they’ve got my back, even when I don’t deserve it.
“I know,” I say quietly. “I know you would have.”
Trevor claps a hand on my shoulder. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
My eyes stay fixed on the horizon, chest tight but steady, resolve settling in like steel. For the first time in a long time, I know exactly the answer to that question.