Chapter 2
TWO
brODY
Carolina Gonzales and I have been dancing around each other for at least five years.
Before, she was my best friend’s little sister. Off limits. Off my radar. The six years between us felt enormous.
Then she graduated college, and Tony invited me to the party back at their house. I didn’t recognize the pretty, dark-haired bombshell in the white dress. She was spinning in a circle, dancing with another woman, her head tipped back and delight on her face.
And then she turned.
And then I saw her.
And then I was a goner.
Over the years, we’ve flirted. We’ve danced. But we’ve never taken it further.
I’ve never let it go further.
She was at the start of her career, on the precipice of greatness. I was at the tail end of mine. Add in that her brother is the closest thing to family I’ve got, and—no thanks. I’m not about to torpedo that relationship.
When Tony asked me to be his best man, I knew it would mean seeing Cari again. It’s an informal title, as there isn’t an actual wedding party. The entire guest list is the wedding party. Thirty friends and family at a giant resort in Reykjavik.
In my head, I pictured late nights pouring over wedding plans, maybe sharing a bottle of wine, and one thing would lead to another and…
In reality, I haven’t heard from her. We live in the same city, albeit in different neighborhoods, and I never see her. We aren’t friends, not like that.
But I didn’t think seeing her again, watching her flirt with Chuck fucking Gallagher, would hurt as much as it does.
From my vantage point in the row behind her, I can see over her shoulder. She’s chatting with Kiana, her teammate, and pretending like I don’t exist. My hands curl into fists, and I glance to the left. Gallagher watches me with an inscrutable expression.
We’ve met a handful of times. He came to our Olympic finals meet, all those years ago. Viv’s birthday. The engagement party.
And now, the wedding. He and Al, Tony’s brother, are the ones financing this private plane. Sure, we all chipped in, but nowhere near enough to cover the cost for this thing.
Just another way I will never measure up to him. He’s a good six inches taller than me, trimmer than me, and makes millions to my paltry salary.
No wonder Cari likes him more than me.
Before I can let the self-pity take hold, I shake my head and open my tablet.
My e-reader app is still up on the screen, and I let myself fall into the comfort of a good book.
This weekend will be a whole lot more socializing than I’m used to.
Sure, I’m pretty extroverted. I like spending time with my friends and family.
If my best friend wasn’t busy getting married, I’d be having a blast. Everyone else is an acquaintance at best, Tony and Viv’s family and friends.
The last few people come on board, the flight attendants do their safety spiel, and then we’re off.
Throughout the trip, my eyes dart above the tablet screen to the woman in front of me.
She’s reading a book of her own on her phone, the brightness up but the font too small for me to read over her shoulder from this distance.
I wonder if she still likes to fall into a fantasy novel with deep worldbuilding, or if she likes murder mysteries like her brother.
Viv was part of a book club here in Boston—did Cari join too?
I can’t think about her. I won’t think about her. It can’t happen.
Don't ruin the wedding.
Don't ruin the friendship.
Don't catch feelings.
… I think I might be too late.
From our short drive from the private airfield to the sprawling resort on the edge of downtown, Reykjavik is beautiful.
After we drop out bags off in our rooms—much nicer digs than I’d usually spring for—the group gathers for lunch in the hotel restaurant.
It’s traditional Icelandic fare like fish stew, thick yogurt, smoked fish, and crisp rye bread.
It’s simple, it’s delicious, and incredibly satisfying.
A few people opt to take a nap, but a good group of us elect to travel to a nearby hot spring for a dip. It’s a pleasant fifty degrees—warm for Iceland—and a beautiful, cloudless day.
Somehow, I find myself in a passenger van beside Chuck and his twin brother, while Cari is two rows in front with her teammates.
“So what’s your deal?” he asks as the van chugs along the countryside.
I glower at him. “What do you mean?”
“You’re the best man. Right?”
“Right…”
“Viv doesn’t have a maid of honor.”
I bite my tongue before I snap back at him. “She didn’t want one.”
“I’m surprised it wasn’t Gonzo.”
Al. His brother.
“Take it up with Tony,” I mutter, turning to look out the window.
Chuck snorts. “Man, you're really committed to this.”
“To what?”
“Pretending nothing's going on.”
I glance over. “What are you talking about?”
He gestures toward the front of the van where Cari is sitting with a few of the rugby girls.
“Oh, come on.”
“Seriously, what are you talking about?” My heart thunders in my ears. Am I that transparent? I thought I was hiding my feelings better than this.
His twin groans from the seat behind us. “Leave him alone.”
“No.” Chuck points at me. “I've watched this nonsense for years.”
My stomach sinks. “No, you haven’t.”
“You flirt with her every time you're in the same room.”
“That's not true.”
“Sure.”
“It's not.”
“Then why did Tony spend an entire bachelor party threatening to throw you into a lake if you looked at her?”
I open my mouth.
Close it.
Chuck grins triumphantly. “That's what I thought.”
“Cari's my best friend's little sister.”
“She's twenty-six.”
“That doesn't make the situation any less complicated.”
“Seems pretty straightforward to me.”
I shake my head and turn back toward the window.
Outside, Iceland rolls past in shades of green and black, mountains rising in the distance beneath a cloudless sky.
“Besides,” I say, “it's none of your business.”
“Normally, I'd agree. Unfortunately, both of you are making it everyone's business.”
Perry laughs. “Thank you.”
“See? Even he agrees.”
I decide the conversation is over.
Fortunately, the van slows a few minutes later, pulling into a parking lot surrounded by volcanic rock and drifting steam.
Saved.
For now.
The hot spring is even more impressive than the photos. The water glows a brilliant blue against the dark lava fields, steam curling into the cool afternoon air.
Most of the wedding party scatters almost immediately. I find a quieter section of the pool and sink into the water with a contented sigh. If I’m lucky, maybe Chuck will leave me alone.
Ten minutes later, I hear familiar laughter.
I look up. Chuck and Cari are standing together across the pool. He's talking animatedly while she laughs at whatever nonsense is coming out of his mouth.
Then he glances over, spots me, and smiles.
Oh no.
Absolutely not.
A second later, he says something to Cari. She turns. Our eyes meet.
Chuck pats her shoulder and promptly swims away. The bastard.
Cari starts toward me. I briefly consider diving underwater and never resurfacing.
Instead, I stay exactly where I am while she closes the distance. The smile she's wearing tells me she already knows what happened.
“Let me guess,” she says. “Chuck?”
I sigh. “Chuck.”
Her dark brown hair is piled in a bun at the top of her head, and the water hits her in the solar plexus, her red bikini top wet and drawing my attention to the water droplets on her skin. It takes everything in me not to glance at her chest, at her exposed skin, and train my gaze on her face.
She’s beautiful. Her face is alight with happiness, her brown eyes protected by her sunglasses, but there’s no mistaking the way they drag over me, checking out my pecs and shoulders. I puff my chest out a little, peacocking for her, and the way her nose crinkles tells me she clocks it.
Hey, I work hard to have this body. What’s the harm in showing off a little for the woman of my dreams?
She laughs. “He cornered me before we got in.”
“What did he say?”
“That he's tired of watching us dance around each other.”
I groan. “Good. Same conversation.”
“Was it?”
“He's apparently been storing opinions for years.”
“Honestly, that's on us.”
I blink. “Us?”
Cari shrugs, settling beside me. The warmth of the hot spring has nothing on the searing heat that radiates off her skin. “Can you honestly say he's wrong?”
The problem is that I can't. Not really. Not when she's standing this close. Not when I've spent the last few years pretending our flirting is harmless.
“I'm choosing not to answer that.”
“That bad?”
“Potentially.”
She laughs again. Fuck, I like that laugh.
The realization hits harder than it should. Maybe because I've known her forever. Maybe because somewhere along the way, seeing her stopped feeling routine.
One day she was Tony's kid sister. Then suddenly she was a grown woman, and it turns out… I like the woman she’s become.
Confident. Funny. Beautiful. Entirely too easy to flirt with.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks.
“Like what?”
“Like you're having an existential crisis.”
“I might be.”
“That seems dramatic.”
“You know me.”
“Unfortunately.”
I place a hand over my heart. “That's cold.”
“Not as cold as the way you keep refusing to ask me out.”
The words hit me like a freight train. For a second, I wonder if I heard her correctly.
Cari's expression is perfectly innocent. Her eyes are not.
“Excuse me?”
She grins. “See? Existential crisis.”
“You can't just say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because then I have to respond.”
“Sounds difficult.”
I shake my head, laughing despite myself. “You're trouble.”
“I've been telling people that for years.”
She lets me off the hook. Thank goodness.
The conversation drifts after that, the two of us treading water in a comfortable silence. Time slips away without either of us noticing.
People come and go around us. The water remains warm. The Icelandic air remains cool. And somehow neither of us wanders very far from the other.
Eventually someone calls Cari's name from across the pool. She glances over her shoulder before looking back at me.
“We should probably rejoin society.”
“Probably.”
Neither of us moves right away.
Her smile softens slightly, like she’s thinking the same thing I am but not saying it.
“I’ll see you at the rehearsal dinner?”
“Yeah,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you at dinner.”
A beat of silence stretches between us. Not awkward. Just… full. Like there’s too much being left unsaid and neither of us is in a rush to clean it up.
Cari pushes off the edge of the pool, still facing me as she starts to move backward.
“Try not to behave too badly before then,” she says lightly.
“I never do,” I answer.
She gives me a look that says she absolutely does not believe that.
“Right,” she says.
Then she turns and swims away.
I stay in the water a moment longer than I need to. Not because I’m cold. Because I’m not ready to follow her yet.
And for the first time since landing in Iceland, I’m not counting down the hours until the rehearsal dinner.
I’m dreading how much I want it to happen.