Chapter 19 #3
“I have no idea what that was,” I lie, hoping the laughter that punctuates my words is enough to defuse the tension in the air. “Maybe the wedding stress is getting to him, or maybe he really is just a bit hungover and dehydrated after last night. I’ll talk to him properly later.”
I’m not sure how convincing I am.
Evie looks at me dubiously, her new friend Jameson standing behind her with curious eyes, probably wondering what kind of chaos he’s entered into.
Theo sits back down on the beach couch next to Hailey and the two of them exchange a look that I can’t quite decipher.
Tyler rubs a hand over his stubble, like he’s deep in thought.
All the while, the party roars on around us. EDM blares from speakers all around the pool, more glamorous men and women file in every minute, and sexy bottle girls in bikinis parade around delivering more liquor and champagne to the VIP tables. The vibes at our little spot, however, stink.
“C’mon, you guys,” I say, throwing my hands up with a persuasive smile. “Let’s party!”
“Let me pour you a drink, Addy,” Connor offers.
He swipes off his T-shirt and adds it to the collective pile of all our belongings on the floor by the couch, revealing his toned, muscular chest and stomach.
There’s something quite pleasing to the eye about the contrast of the dark tattoos on his arms against the rest of his untouched, tanned skin.
Sunglasses shielding his eyes, he gestures with a small nod of his head for me to come closer as he plucks a bottle of rum from an ice bucket.
“You okay?” he whispers under his breath, refraining from looking at me as he stares down at the glasses on the table in front of us, pouring out a couple rum and pineapples.
I throw a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure no one is listening in. “I’m fine,” I mumble in response, not quite looking at him either as we stand side by side. I anxiously twist my engagement ring around my finger, and Connor gestures to it.
“You don’t even like that ring,” he says matter-of-factly.
“Excuse me?” I respond, caught off-guard. I glance down at my ring—a 9-carat emerald-cut diamond that I have had to spend a long time convincing myself isn’t obscenely ostentatious. “Yes, I do. I love my ring.”
“No, you don’t,” Connor says. “You like dainty, classic jewelry. Always have. That big honking flashy thing? That’s not Liam picking a ring you’d genuinely love. That’s Liam trying to look good.”
I stare back at Connor with a blank expression, because he’s right. I like my jewelry to be more subtle, more refined. It’s something I never would have expected him to pay attention to, yet something I so wish Liam had . . . because, God, I really do hate this fucking ring.
“He’s losing it, Addy,” Connor continues.
“He’s not.”
“He is,” he argues quietly. “He’s showing his true colors in public now. How long before he lifts a hand to you with others around? Then how are you going to pretend you’re happy?”
“You’re really starting to piss me off.”
He turns to me now and slips a drink into my hand, but it’s impossible to read any emotion in his eyes when they’re hidden behind his sunglasses.
“I’d rather piss you off than see you make the biggest mistake of your life.
I’d rather tell everyone here your secret and have you hate me forever,” he says in a low, husky voice, “than watch you walk down the aisle to marry a man who hurts you.”
My heart aches. It’s been doing that a lot the past twenty-four hours, every single time Connor says something that cuts me deeply with the truth.
It feels so surreal, having such a heavy conversation under the gorgeous sunshine with people around us chugging beers and the bass of the music vibrating beneath my feet.
Everyone is so happy, and I’m . . . not.
“How’s your hand?” I ask, swallowing hard and pointing to the bandage around his palm.
Connor cocks his head a degree. “Don’t change the subject, Addy.”
“Look,” I say with a frustrated sigh, “let’s just get through this afternoon, okay? I was actually having a good time before you guys showed up.”
“Before Liam showed up,” he corrects.
Ignoring him, I take a sip of my drink and check one final time that no one is eavesdropping.
When I’m reassured everyone is occupied, I lean in close, my mouth hovering by his shoulder.
“Keep your lips sealed for the rest of this afternoon, while everyone else is around, and tonight . . . Tonight we’ll really talk. Just you and me, Cons.”
As soon as the word leaves my lips, I recognize my mistake and squeeze my eyes shut behind my sunglasses. Fuck.
“Cons,” he breathes, and it’s almost like the old nickname physically wounds him, because he presses a hand to his chest and blows out a long breath. “Okay. Tonight, we’ll really talk, but promise me—”
“Heyyy,” Evie says, pushing in between Connor and me and eyeballing the ice buckets. “Pretty please, Greatest Big Sister in the World, can I have another drink?”
“Here, have this,” I say, forcing the drink Connor made me into her hand, hoping it’ll be enough to send her back on her way, but she pulls me into a tipsy hug instead.
Over her shoulder, I watch as Connor walks away.