Chapter 13
RANSOM
I am not the fifth wheel.
No way.
I’m so good with this setup. As I fiddle with my tie, waiting for Logan and Oliver along Fifth Avenue, I’m completely cool with heading into Central Park for the wedding with these guys and their women.
Nothing weird about that—about me wandering in with two couples.
Especially since I’m meeting Teagan at the event.
When my friends arrive late Saturday afternoon for the nuptials, dressed in sharp shirts and slacks, Bryn and Summer by their sides, I do not feel like I need to be part of all this two-by-two Noah’s Arking. Nope. Not at all.
“Looking good, Ransom,” Summer says approvingly as she surveys my attire.
“Same to you—and that ugly git by your side.” As I take the teasing jab at Oliver, I think of Teagan and our conversation the other night. I imagine how, if she were here, she’d smile privately at me, knowing my language. Translating smack talk to English the way Tempest translates into ASL.
She’d understand that Oliver’s a good bud. Since Fitz hooked me up with this crew, his friends have become my friends too.
Oliver wiggles a brow. “In some areas of England, ‘ugly git’ is a compliment, so I’ll take that, thank you very much.”
“Aww, I love you, my ugly git,” Summer teases.
“I’m such a lucky ugly git,” he says, turning to drop a kiss onto his wife’s cheek.
When he does that, my chest has the nerve to pinch.
Whoa.
What’s that about?
Oliver can kiss his wife all he wants without me longing for that kind of affection.
I don’t need to kiss someone on the cheek or hold hands like any of these lovebirds.
I don’t wish for what they have. I swear I don’t.
I roll my shoulders, shedding these strange, sudden twinges of . . . envy.
There is no room for love-envy in my life.
None whatsoever.
Logan and Bryn stroll over, Logan knocking fists with me then glancing around. “Where’s Teagan?”
Yeah, where is she? Why isn’t she here yet? Longest wait of my life.
“She’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” I say quickly.
At the same time, Bryn answers with “She’s on her way.”
The simultaneous replies do not go unnoticed by Logan, who arches a brow, shooting me a sly look as the five of us wander into the park. “I’d expect Bryn to know what her best friend was up to, but I didn’t know you were so intimately acquainted with her schedule too,” he says.
As the others walk ahead, I shrug like it’s no big deal, cool as a tomcat. “That’s when the wedding starts. In fifteen minutes.”
He scoffs. “No, dude. In fifteen minutes, it’s four forty-five. The wedding starts at five. Being, you know, not dickheads, we all agreed to be here early for our friends getting hitched.”
“Exactly. That’s why I’m here now.” My logic is crumbling, but I’ll hold tight to it. Hell, will I ever.
“And you know exactly when Teagan is arriving,” he says, like he’s busting me.
“Because we’re friends.” Maybe if I keep up the friend excuse, it will feel more true to me too. I’ll convince myself that’s the only reason I know when she’ll be here. It’s definitely not because I’ve been counting down the seconds until I see her again.
The long, long seconds.
I’m dying to see her.
I can feel it in my chest, this clawing desire to set my eyes on her.
It’s intense, and it’s terrifying.
Logan sighs, shaking his head, then curls a hand over my shoulder. “Listen, I don’t pretend to know everything about women. Or to be an expert on love or second chances.”
“But it sounds like you’re about to try and fake it,” I joke. But this is more deflection than affection. I’m not sure I’m in the mood to turn down the path of Smart Supportive Advice, and it seems he’s steering the car thataway.
“Yeah, I am,” Logan agrees matter-of-factly. “Because I’ve learned something in the last two years. Something important. Life comes at you pretty quickly, and a lot of shit happens.” He stops in his tracks, letting the others go ahead. “My ex-wife cheated on me.”
“I know that, man,” I say, sympathy pains spreading in my chest. His story isn’t the same as mine, but it’s on the same shelf in the bookstore, under the subgenre How to Be Fucked by Love. “I’m sure it must have sucked.”
“It did. It was awful, and I felt like shit about myself. Doesn’t matter that my ex and I were growing apart. Doesn’t matter that I didn’t feel a crazy intense connection for her. It hurt, right here,” he says, tapping his sternum. “Made me question everything. Made me angry. Made me pissed.”
My brow creases, my emotions latching on to those last words as I push back. “I’m not angry.”
“I know that, man,” he says with a friendly pat on my shoulder. “I do. You’re a chill, laid-back dude.”
“But . . .?”
What’s he getting at?
“But the thing is . . .” He pauses and takes a deep breath, fueling what he’s going to say next.
“I want you to keep your mind open. I know your ex did a number on you, but that’s what exes do simply by being exes.
At some point, we have to decide if we want to be defined by the hurts inflicted on us, or to move forward. ”
I bristle at the notion that I’m holding on to something. And dammit, I realize that bristling proves he’s at least somewhere close to the mark. He’s poking too close to a sore spot.
“I’m happy, dude,” I say. It’s a reflex by now, like blocking a move on the ice. “I am.”
“But you’re happier when you’re with Teagan,” he says, his eyes zeroed in on me.
He’s not wrong, but should we all just do what makes us happy if it’s bad for us?
No. That’s why you need rules. Why they put a Surgeon General’s warning on bottles of whiskey.
“It’s too risky,” I say emphatically, then gesture to the stone walkway in front of us, the very one that’s taking us to our friends’ wedding.
“Look around. We are all up in each other’s business.
We hang out—you, me, Fitz, Oliver, Dean now.
We’re all friends. And the women—they are too.
Plus, you own the company where Teagan works.
Bryn and Teagan are close friends, and if things ended badly between Teagan and me, your woman would logically side with Teagan and you’d be in a spot. ”
Logan simply shrugs. “And I’ll handle it. But what if it leads to happiness for you, man? Is that such a terrible chance to take?”
I heave a sigh, scrubbing a hand across my jaw, trying to get him to feel the weight of the issue, how damn heavy it is.
“This isn’t just about happiness. It’s about being smart.
It’s about not putting yourself in a position where someone can break you.
Not when you know better. Edie was my best friend from college.
I crossed the friend-to-girlfriend line once, and look what happened.
I was devastated when she ended it. She devastated me.
I don’t want that again, so I’ve got a rule—don’t mess around with a woman who’s your friend. ”
He fixes me with a serious stare. “And by that same logic, I should never get married again, right?”
I blink, parting my lips, stunned speechless by the utter wrongness of that remark. “No,” I insist. “You and Bryn are perfect for each other.”
“But shouldn’t I follow the same rule? Doesn’t it apply to me? Don’t do the thing that hurt us before, right? You won’t get involved with a friend, so maybe I shouldn’t ever get married again.”
He is goading me, and I hate that I don’t have a better reply than “C’mon. That’s not what I mean.”
“Kind of is though. And if you believe that, now would be a good time to tell me, since I’m asking Bryn to marry me next week.”
“Holy shit, man.” In spite of the heavy talk, a grin takes over my face, and I yank him in for a quick hug. “That is awesome. I’m so stoked for you.”
His smile is magic—he looks like the happiest guy around, and that’s saying something, since I’m surrounded by pleased-as-punch fellas.
“Thanks. I wish I could speed up time so it was next week now, but I’m also going to enjoy the hell out of every moment with her.
Every moment of Fitz and Dean’s day today.
” He takes a beat, drawing a breath. “Do you see what I mean though?”
I look away, at the trees, at the paths winding through the park, at the crowds starting to gather for Fitz’s wedding.
At the moments surrounding me. At all my friends, taking chances in their own way.
At Fitz, who put his heart on the line for Dean so he could make a life here with the guy he loves.
At Oliver, who risked seventeen years of friendship to tell Summer he loved her.
And at Logan, a father and a once-married man who was burned, but who’s going for a second chance—a second chance at the altar.
Maybe I’ve had it all wrong.
“I do see what you mean,” I say quietly.
Logan slugs my shoulder. “You guys clearly dig each other. And I know you don’t want to get on the merry-go-round of love again.
I respect that.” He meets my gaze, leveling an intensely honest stare at me, something he’s been doing a lot of today.
“But I wonder if maybe you already have one foot on that carousel?”
My mind slips back to last weekend and how it was with her.
To how I felt with her in the elevator of my building. In my doorway. In my bed.
Well, horny for starters.
But was I happy too?
As I ask myself, I catch a glint of sunlight on red hair, lifting softly in the breeze. Strong legs. A bright, confident smile.
The woman I slept with last week walks toward me.
That’s when I fully weigh Logan’s questions, and when they don’t feel heavy any longer.
Was I happy?
Is that even a question?
I was happy every single second I spent with her.
Every moment—the sex and the talking—was a balm to my soul.
It’s making me wonder if it’s time to finally reevaluate if the risk is worth it.
My friends are taking all sorts of risks. They’re diving headfirst into the waters of love.
Because the reward could be worth it.
Perhaps it’s time to let go of my mantra. To let go of my resistance. And to let go of the past.
“Yeah . . . I’m pretty sure I’m already on the carousel and getting dizzy,” I admit at last to Logan as Teagan comes closer.
“Then maybe talk to her,” he says, then walks away.
He doesn’t need to tell me a fifteenth time.