Chapter 24 #2
Gage gave the smallest inclination of his head. Acknowledgment, nothing more.
Before Bea could decide if she was supposed to add anything, someone stepped into Gage’s view. A familiar face, calling his name. His attention flickered toward the interruption. And in that tiny space alone with Bea, Catherine struck.
“I should congratulate you. Somehow, you got him to choose.”
The words were soft. Not loud enough for anyone else to hear. Just for her.
“That’s usually how it works, isn’t it? People choose each other.”
Catherine considered her. “Gage has always been particular,” she said. “He likes his things refined. Predictable.”
Bea’s shoulders stiffened, barely perceptible, but Catherine saw. Bea lifted her chin. “Good thing I’m not a ‘thing,’ then.”
Catherine took a slow sip of champagne, eyes drifting over the crowd before settling back on Bea. “Yes, but you know how it is,” she said, slowly. “The new always catches the eye. But eventually, people stop looking.”
Bea’s fingers curled slightly into the fabric of her coat. That one cut deeper than she’d let show.
Catherine watched her for another beat. Then, as she turned, she delivered her final blow like a passing breeze. “Enjoy yourself today, Bea.” A gentle smile. “While you can.”
And then she was gone, leaving Bea with a bruise in the softest part of her. Unseen, but tender all the same.
She turned back to Gage, who was finishing up his conversation.
He faced her. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”
Below them, the boats were lining up. Long, sleek things with crisp white sails, slicing through the water like blades, each manned by a team of eight.
She spotted Rafael immediately. Their crew wore matching white drysuits, his one bearing a single maroon stripe at the arm, which even she recognized as a mark of rank.
He was laughing easily as he tied off the ropes, looking like someone born for this.
Sebastian stood beside him, scanning the competition as if wondering who would come second.
Bea tilted her head toward Gage. “Are you racing?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I like to win.”
She glanced back at the water. “And you wouldn’t?”
“Not if Griffin’s racing.”
Bea blinked. “Wait, really?”
He followed her gaze. “Sailing’s not my thing. And he’s good. Irritatingly good.”
“Interesting,” she said, smiling.
He didn’t respond.
A familiar voice called out. Georgina, flanked by Naomi and Isabel, approached through the crowd. Georgina’s coat was hunter green, her boots buttery leather and clearly custom.
“Look at you two,” Georgie said, giving both Bea and her cousin a teasing once-over.
Bea shrugged. “First Regatta.”
“I’m sure you’re loving the aggressive displays of inherited wealth,” Isabel said dryly.
“That’s only half the appeal,” Naomi said, adjusting her sunglasses with a grin. “The other half is watching Rafael make everyone else look stupid.”
“The champagne this year tastes like vomit,” Georgina complained.
“A new company sponsored,” Naomi said. “I don’t think they’ll get another chance next year.”
A bell rang out across the water, and the crowd’s attention shifted. The race was starting.
Bea watched, her heart leaping as boats sliced through the surface, elegant and fast. Cheers rose around them, champagne glasses lifted, people jostling for a better view.
“Come on.” Gage’s thumb traced a slow line along her coat sleeve. “You’ve seen it from here. Now you’ll see how it’s meant to be watched.” He nodded toward Georgina and the others. “Let’s go.”
Georgie looked as though she’d been waiting for him to say that all along.
Together, they cut through the crowd. Gage went first, holding Bea’s hand, his big body clearing the way for the women trailing behind. At the staircase, Gage nodded to security. The rope dropped, and the guard waved them through without interrogation.
The VIP terrace might as well have been another world.
Elevated above the chaos, overlooking the full stretch of the river. Glass railings. Leather seating. Heat lamps radiating soft gold light. Waitstaff moved quietly, offering champagne and tiny, perfect canapés on silver trays.
Down below, it sounded like the inside of a stadium—cheers rising, glasses clinking, the scrape of shoes on dock planks. Up here, it felt like the owners’ box. Removed. Untouchable.
“Much better,” Georgina said, already making her way to the prime spot along the glass. Naomi and Isabel followed, slipping into seats like they belonged there. Which, of course, they did.
A man stood near the railing, dark coat unbuttoned despite the cold, his hands tucked into his pockets as he surveyed the water below. Tall, with dark hair cropped short and a clear five-o’clock shadow. He looked like someone who didn’t speak unless it counted, and only if he felt like it.
When he turned at their approach, Bea immediately caught the quiet familiarity in the nod he gave Gage. Years, not just friendship.
“Nate, this is Bea.” The press of his palm against her back nudged her forward, like it mattered. “Bea, Nathaniel West. Ignore whatever comes out of his mouth.”
Nate’s eyes swept over her. “So this is the girl,” he said, solemn but somehow amused.
Bea smiled, small but steady. “I hope so.”
“You’ve been a topic.”
“Oh? A good topic or a bad one?”
Nate shrugged. “Depends how far back we’re talking.”
Her brows lifted, curious. “And now?”
He looked at Gage, dry as hell. “Looks good from here.”
Bea studied the two of them, piecing together what he wasn’t saying. “You seem to have some backstory I’d love to hear one day,” she said, failing to hide her smile.
Nate nodded. “Bea, I know all the backstories.”
She laughed, bright and unfiltered. The kind of laugh that was given freely and asked for nothing.
It threw him, just a little. Nate glanced at her again, like a man who’d just seen the kind of warmth that melts kings.
Gage, evidently done, slid his hand along her back, steering her toward a seat.
“Good luck with this one. He doesn’t share well.” Nate’s final rejoinder was clearly meant for them both to hear.
“Thanks for the warning,” Bea said over her shoulder.
“Ignore him,” Gage muttered.
“I like him.”
“Yeah, everyone does. Until they don’t.”
Bea sank into her seat. Before she could even lift the champagne someone had pressed into her hand, he took it gently from her and set it aside, ordering her a sparkling water instead.
She didn’t have to remind him. He remembered.
From across the terrace, Georgina shivered dramatically. “It’s freezing up here.”
“Worth it to see Rafael treating this like the Olympics,” Naomi said.
Isabel snorted. “Bet he brought his own wind machine.”
Bea leaned forward, transfixed, as Rafael’s boat carved through the current, outpacing second place by a full length. “They’re really good,” she said under her breath.
“You don’t need to watch him,” Gage said.
“Relax,” she gibed. “Just watching the boat.”
“Maybe you should watch me,” he quipped, before leaning in to kiss her.
Georgina called over her shoulder, “Bea, there’s a race on.”
Bea just smiled.