Chapter 7
SEVEN
DEAN
The dinner setup looked… expensive.
When Charley had sent me some Pinterest mood boards a while back, I didn’t think she intended to implement everything.
Edison bulbs dangled from palm trees, shedding dim light over rustic tables lined up on the sand.
Linen napkins fluttered in the breeze like they were trying to wave us closer, seashells and blossoms strewn everywhere, a sand-sculpted turtle guarding the tables.
No shoes required—rich people cosplaying as castaways.
The sand, still warm from the day, slid between my toes like a fancy exfoliant.
Next to me, Tay stopped to take it all in, his expression somewhere between awe and disbelief. Ever the open book.
“It’s not subtle, is it?” I kept my voice low, for him alone.
“Not exactly, no.” His gaze swept the scene, then snagged on me. “It’s like someone fed ‘tropical boho wedding’ into an algorithm. Unlimited budget.”
Ha. The corner of my mouth threatened to twitch. “I was thinking more shipwreck scenario with supplementary butler service.”
Tay nodded like someone sampling expensive whiskey. “I can see it, yes.”
“Well.” I lost the battle against my grin. “Welcome to the family, babe.”
Before he could come up with a response, James appeared. My stepdad was the human equivalent of a life jacket—steady, reliable, always there if you needed saving. He pulled me into a quick, familiar hug, then turned to Tay with a smile that shifted the ends of his moustache.
“Tay. Finally!” Like James had been waiting to meet him for years. “We’ve heard a lot.”
“All good things, I hope?” Tay slipped straight into charm mode—not quite a mask, nothing that fake, but wearing an unassuming confidence that I suspected he’d worked for.
“Exclusively,” James confirmed, as if I’d been waxing poetic about Tay at length. For some reason, it made me feel a little too warm. Might be just the tropical air, the lingering exhaustion of the trip.
Theo was next to find us. He wore the kind of sunny grin that probably came standard with a yacht license, but beneath his golden-boy exterior, he was a solid guy with strong values who damn near worshipped my sister.
He clasped Tay’s hand in both of his like they were old teammates catching up after summer break.
“Really good to meet you.” His wink showed he was in on the whole story. “You managed to impress Charley, and that’s no mean feat. Means you’re practically family already.”
Tay ducked his head with a sheepish smile. “Goes both ways—she’s great. And congrats on the wedding, man. It’s a real honor to be here.”
“Isn’t it something?” Theo swept an arm out to indicate our surroundings. “Personally, I’d have been fine planning it a fair bit smaller, but, well—parents and their expectations. You know how it is.”
“Can’t say Mom and James have ever pressured me onto a private island.” I made sure to keep it light, teasing. “Shame, really. I’d take it.”
“Honestly,” Tay said, “I thought holidays like this only existed as screensavers. Kinda keep waiting to wake up mid-shift and realize I dreamed the whole thing.” While playful, his tone carried a hint of vulnerability that I’d come to recognize from all those voice messages.
I caught myself studying the soft bow of his bottom lip, distracted by a bright flash of memory—how his mouth had opened against mine, how he’d pressed back into me.
Just residual dopamine. Predictable: pleasure, recognition, reward. The kind of reaction you could chart on a graph, if you cared to. I didn’t.
When Theo was pulled away by someone, Tay and I edged further into the crowd.
We wove through a few of Charley’s old friends, pausing here and there for a chat.
Since I’d never been great with remembering names, it took me a moment to unearth them—Jade and Jared, Tess.
I was careful to include Tay with words and small touches—the brush of my fingers at his lower back, the light nudge of my arm.
I’d been the odd one out at a party or two, and I didn’t want him to feel that way.
Then a brown-haired guy who greeted me with a conspiratorial smile. “Dean. It’s been a while.”
I scanned my mental archives—Charley’s friend from school, vague memories of him at her birthday a couple of years back, wearing a too-tight shirt. Right, yeah. Tom. Probably?
“Good to see you,” I said with a nod. “How’ve you been?”
“Oh, you know. Good. Busy.” His tone was smooth but pitched weirdly, like he was confiding a secret. I felt Tay shift next to me, his shoulder pressing fractionally closer to mine, and shot him a smile.
“Time to grab some drinks?”
“Sounds good,” he said, knuckles skimming along my back in an echo of how I’d been touching him. It was nice, grounding somehow, especially since I’d never been good at this kind of social mingling.
I offered Tom a quick grin. “Catch you later, yeah?”
His gaze ticked sideways to Tay, then back to me. “Sure,” he said, a little stiffly.
With another nod, we parted ways, Tay and I finding a quiet spot on the fringes of the crowd after grabbing something fruity and sparkling off a tray.
Faint torchlight licked across his face, the night reducing his eyes to a near-black as we clinked our glasses together.
Off to the right, the pier curved out into the ocean, bordered by tastefully lit villas and a string of lanterns that gleamed like pearls against the dark water.
“Holding up all right?” I asked him once we’d taken our first sips.
“Yeah.” He paused, thoughtful more than hesitant. “Your family’s great. I can see why you’d, you know. Go to certain lengths.”
I angled myself closer just like a boyfriend might and let my voice drop to an intimate level. “Make up a relationship, you mean? Still not my brightest moment, but I guess it’s kind of worked out for me.”
Tay caught right on to my game—he laughed, an exaggeratedly coy tilt to his head as though I’d just paid him the most beautiful compliment. “Hey, for me, too. This is a once-in-a-lifetime vacation, and it’s free.”
“Except for the acting bit,” I said. “Sorry.”
Something about his face softened—the corners of his mouth lifting just the slightest hint, eyes steady. “You seem to think that pretending to be in love with you is a hardship.”
I…
Well.
Movement rippled through the crowd, saving me from words I didn’t have.
It wasn’t like—I didn’t think I was unlovable or whatever, but the rare time or two that I’d tried dating, well, it kind of tanked.
I knew I erred on the highly strung side of the spectrum, that I liked things my way or the highway and could come across as… aloof. Closed off, even cold.
Fortunately, Tay didn’t seem to expect a response as we went to take our seats—Mom to my left, Tay to my right, and beyond him a pair of Theo’s cousins. Who were discussing limited-edition Swiss watches because of fucking course.
Tay leaned in just slightly, voice pitched low as he unfolded his napkin. “Are they actually comparing Rolex complications?”
“Assume the brace position,” I murmured back, aware that my mom was smiling at our closeness. “This is just the appetizer.”
“Can’t wait.”
Somehow, Tay’s quiet comment unfurled into our own private game as the courses arrived, one by one.
Tucked beneath the polished surface of gourmet food and five-star service, we traded bitchy observations—not exactly our proudest moment, maybe, but it sure made us feel a little more at ease among a number of guests whose private assets possibly rivaled the GDP of a small country.
Not some struggling microstate either, mind you—we were talking oil reserves, indoor ski slopes in the desert, and gold-trimmed national airlines.
“That woman has called the server ‘sweetheart’ three times already,” I told Tay, leaning close under the pretense of nabbing a bite off his plate.
His lips quirked up. “Personally, if the oyster isn’t named and sourced by someone named Hugo, I walk.”
“Same.” I nudged his foot. “While weeping into my Hermès napkin.”
“Whoever said elegance is a state of the mind has never owned a Birkin bag.”
“Or worn a genuine Botox smile.”
Tay laughed, bright and unguarded, as if he was honestly happy to be here, with me. For one second only, the world lurched faintly on its axis, then righted itself.
Well, yeah—it had been a long trip, with jet lag piled on top. All I needed was a good night’s rest.
Just us and the velvet-warm night.
While most of the other guests had taken buggies back to their villas, ferried off like royalty after a charity ball, Tay and I had exchanged one look and declined.
Now we were walking back along the wooden pier that glowed softly underfoot, lit by lanterns that swung with a gentle breeze.
Salt in the air, the hush of waves below.
My thoughts slowed for the first time all evening.
“Still feels surreal,” Tay murmured, not disturbing the quiet but blending right in with it. “Like I’ve got no right to be here—must be someone else’s dream.”
By now, I should have been used to his easy way of admitting to doubt, vulnerability, moments of weakness. And yet it still caught me by surprise. I took a moment to respond as our villa came into view, cast in a golden hue and balanced above the water like it had risen from the ocean just for us.
“It’s the humidity,” I said. “That, and the long trip. Makes the ends of your thoughts stick together, and that’s why everything feels slightly unreal.”
“Is that a clinical diagnosis?” he asked, a suggestion of laughter vibrating in his voice.
I bit my cheek against a grin. “The most clinically diagnosed diagnosis to ever diagnose.”
“Color me suitably impressed.”
“You should be intimidated.”
“No, see, that’s so last spring.” He flashed me a smile. “Keep up, will you?”
Last spring, when he’d done his CT rotation, and now he might specialize in it. Just a passing comment, but it had hooked itself into my brain like a burr. He’d need to decide soon—applications went in this month, and if he really chose CT, there was every chance he’d land back in the department.
Did he want that? Had he said yes to this trip because…
No. That wasn’t how Tay worked. He was too damn easy to read—if there’d been an angle, I would have spotted it a mile off.
I hummed in soft acknowledgement. No need to fill the silence with clever words like the thread we’d woven throughout dinner—right now, surrounded by the peaceful night and the rhythm of the waves, it was enough to just be.
We reached our villa and found the corners of the blanket magically turned down, with a chocolate treat on each side.
The flower petals had disappeared. Right—bed.
It wasn’t a big deal or anything. I’d shared beds with friends before, and one practice kiss didn’t flip things upside down.
Jesus, Gregg and I had fallen asleep on opposite ends of a couch once and woken up spooning. We still laughed about it. So, yeah.
“Quick dip?” Tay asked into my internal spiraling, waving a hand towards the plunge pool out on the deck. It felt significant in a way it shouldn’t—permission for the night to stretch out a little longer.
“Sure,” I said lightly. “Why not?”
The wooden planks were warm beneath my feet when we stepped outside, the pool shimmering like liquid moonlight.
Tay slid me a smile, then stripped like it was natural, a thing we just did around each other.
Which—yeah. We’d be sharing this space for a week, better get used to it.
Better get a fucking grip instead of looking away like a Victorian aunt shocked by a piano leg.
I’d seen plenty of bodies before.
Just… not his. Other than a few hours ago, when he’d changed right in front of me and I’d done my hardest not to notice.
I already knew he was hot, no surprise there.
Broad shoulders, subtle muscle, a faint trail of hair leading from his navel down to—stop it.
I exhaled sharply and told myself that if he could do casual, so could I.
Nakedness? Whatever, no big deal. Private plunge pool, no neighbors, honeymoon villa, all fine. Nothing to get twisted about.
Okay then. I peeled off my own clothes and slipped into the pool. He followed, a comfortable arm’s length between us—and when had I begun to measure distance in relation to him? I tipped my head back with a sigh, the water just cool enough to soothe the lingering heat of the evening.
“Lots of shiny people tonight,” he said eventually.
“You did great.” Better than me, honestly. He had the kind of charm that put people at ease, a hint boyish without seeming immature. Me, I was more like surgical steel—sharp edges, functional, and absolutely not what you reached for at a dinner party. Fine by me.
“Thanks.” He paused for a beat and then continued, voice slow and quiet.
“I think I already told you—in one of the voice messages. Like, I was kind of the quiet kid at school, did my homework, kept my head down. And then at college, I learned to fit in more, you know? I’m good at that. But really, I just fake it well.”
“Are you sure that’s not your imposter syndrome talking?” I opened my eyes to study the way reflected pool light shifted across his features. “Because it doesn’t feel fake, not as such. Like you had to work for it maybe, yeah. But you’re genuinely good with people.”
He made a little noise—not disagreement, not quite, but a little doubtful. I let it drop.
We floated for a few minutes longer, tiredness settling like a heavy cloak around my shoulders, before we heaved ourselves out of the water and toweled off.
The villa felt vast and silent around us, my attention drawn once more to the king-sized monstrosity of a bed that might have hosted diplomatic summits.
We’d be so far apart it would barely even feel like sharing.
Good.
The bathroom was all pale stone and double sinks, rainfall shower, free-standing bathtub, and towels so fluffy you could fashion a heavenly bed out of them. We brushed our teeth side by side, then I went to change into a pair of sleep shorts while he took a leak.
He was already under the blanket by the time I also returned from the toilet, and I turned off the light before I got in on the other side, felt the faint dip as he shifted to get comfortable. This was fine, normal, not complicated.
“G’night,” I said into the darkness around us.
“Sleep well,” he replied, soft amid the ocean murmuring underneath, the ceiling fan stirring the air above.
I let my eyes drift closed and told my thoughts to settle.