Until We Break Page 6

  I give her a shrug, trying to play this off like it’s no big deal, when really, it feels like so much more than that. “No biggie.”

  She hasn’t looked away, and she doesn’t take my bait. Her hand finds mine, and she gives it a squeeze, taking in a deep breath. “Not just for the piggyback ride, but for … for making me remember that trusting someone isn’t always an awful thing.”

  She blinks hard, almost like she’s trying to hold back tears, and it’s like I’ve forgotten every single word I’ve ever learned. In the end I only nod and give her hand a tight squeeze back.

  As she turns and heads back for her towel, I catch sight of Archer a few yards down the beach. He gives me a big thumbs-up and a grin, no doubt drawing the typical assumptions.

  Because what else would Luke Evans be doing?

  Chapter 12

  Sloane

  The breakfast rush finally eases up, and we get a brief lull before the lunch crowd hits. I swirl a wet rag across the tabletop, making sure any syrupy remnants are banished from existence.

  “You have to go, you know that, right?” Blaire asks from the booth next to me. Somehow I always end up doing all the work and she ends up watching.

  “She’s right,” Gran chimes in from where she’s straightening things behind the counter. “Even this old lady is going.”

  I don’t want to think about it, because every time I do I want to be sick. I’ve taken to carrying around a bottle of Tums so that every time Blaire brings it up I can pop one in my mouth and crunch down on its chalky, minty goodness.

  “You know what the easy solution to this is, right?” Blaire asks, dropping her chin onto her hand and tilting her head to the side.

  I lean against the table and glare at her. “And what would that be?”

  She looks at me with a twinkle in her eye. “To show up with a hot piece of arm candy for yourself.”

  Gran barks out a laugh as she rotates the pie dish under its glass dome. “You should listen to your sister Sloane: she’s not as dumb as she looks.”

  “Hey!” Blaire snatches the rag from my hand and heaves it across the room at her. It splats ineffectually against one of the stools and then slithers its way to the floor.

  I ignore their antics. My insides are already clenched in so many knots that even they can’t unwind them. Not this time. “That’s great, Blaire. Should I Google escort services? I’m sure Dad would really love that.”

  She snorts. “Just ask Luke.”

  “Ask me what?”

  I jump at the sound of his voice, dropping the napkin holder on the floor with a loud clang. I scramble to pick it up as my gaze flies to where he stands in the doorway. My heart pounds a thousand miles a minute to the point where it might pop right out of my chest.

  Gran catches my eye and nods at me, adding her approval to Blaire’s plan. Traitor.

  It’s … not the worst idea in the world. If I’m going to have to face down Nick, it wouldn’t hurt to have someone like Luke at my side. But do I really want him saving me again?

  Ever since that day at the beach, we’ve been walking on eggshells with each other, trading a smile or a wave before disappearing around the nearest corner. I still can’t believe I made such an ass of myself. He must think I’m a loon. And spilling my guts to him? Dumping my issues at his feet? What was I even thinking?

  The answer: I wasn’t. In that moment there had been something there, some visceral connection that made me feel like if I showed him all the broken and battered bits of my heart, he’d be able to put them back together again. In a small way, he already had, by making me a promise and keeping it, by accepting my fear and cradling me against him like he was afraid I might shatter.

  Just the thought of him holding me again, of feeling his fingertips graze against the sensitive skin on my stomach, sends my pulse racing. Contemplating anything happening between Luke and I is emotional suicide. I know the kind of guy he is, and I know the kind of girl I am. The only way something between us could end is badly. Very, very badly.

  No—whatever spark there is between the two of us needs to fizzle out and die. We’re friends, just friends. That’s all I can handle.

  When I don’t immediately answer him, he sits down at one of the stools and leans back against the counter. “I’ll wait.”

  I stand awkwardly between two tables and fidget with my apron. I look down at the floor as I say, “You really shouldn’t feel obligated, and you can say no—”

  “Yes.”

  Three set of eyes zero in on him, but he doesn’t flinch under our scrutiny.

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask,” I point out.

  He shrugs. “We all know you wouldn’t be asking me, of all people, unless it was important. So, I’m in.”

  Gran divides a look between the two of us, honing in on his “of all people” comment.

  The silence stretches into an uncomfortable one, until Blaire snaps it like a twig. “Our family’s throwing our annual black-and-white party this weekend, and Sloane doesn’t want to go alone.”

  I give her a look.

  “Okay, correction: Sloane doesn’t want to go at all, but she has to anyway, and I think she’d have a better time if you went with her.”

  He gives me that heartbreaking smile, and I catch a glimpse of straight white teeth behind his lips. “Are you asking me on a date, Sloane?”

  “Yes,” Gran and Blaire say, at the same time I shake my head and say, “No.”

  They throw an exasperated look in my direction.

  I fold my arms across my chest. “As friends. I’m hoping you’ll come with me as my friend.”

  He did say that’s what he wanted to be, and I’d been more than up front with my feelings on casual sex with him. For me, strings are always attached, and I’m not going into this party with any misconceptions on his part.

  “I’d be happy to.” His smile doesn’t waver, and I feel a few of those knots ease themselves.

  Gran comes out from behind the counter and motions him to his feet. She holds up a measuring tape in her hand, the end of it trailing on the floor. I have no idea where she just pulled that from.

  Standing, he completely dwarfs her. If I had to guess, he’s probably in the six-foot-three to six-foot-five range. The guy is huge.

  “Uh, Bunny? What are you doing?” My head tilts at the use of her first name. I didn’t even know they knew each other.

  She tilts her head back, her glasses sliding up her nose. “Were you planning on going to the party dressed in that?” She points at his cargo shorts and gray T-shirt. There isn’t anything fancy about it, but I have to admit, even in that, he looks good. I can’t imagine what he’ll look like in formalwear. Disgustingly handsome, if I had to guess.

  He trades a nervous look between Blaire and I. “What’s the dress code for this thing?”

  Blaire tucks her legs up beneath her in the booth and tries not to smirk. “Black tie.”

  That confident smile that he wears like a shield slips a fraction of an inch.

  Gran pats him on the chest as she wraps the measuring tape around it. “Not to worry. We’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”

  He just nods and holds perfectly still. Gran runs her hand and the tape upward, measuring his inseam. She must get a little too close for comfort, because he flinches and lets out something that sounds suspiciously like a squeak.

  She turns her eyes up at him. “What? You draw the line at older women?”

  Chapter 13

  Luke

  I am out of my ever-loving mind. I never should have agreed to come. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have if I hadn’t agreed to go before finding out what I was agreeing to. Note to self: listen then act, not the other way around.

  I nearly shit myself when I got home this morning to find a shiny box on my doorstep with a brand-new Valentino tuxedo inside. I don’t even want to think about how much it cost. Probably more than I pay for a month’s worth of rent.

  Sloane�
��s Maserati grumbles underneath me as I wait for the valet. I’m way out of my league, but I’ve known that for a while. If it weren’t for the fact that Sloane loaned me the Mas to get here, I’m not sure how I would’ve. My Wrangler’s still sitting at the garage waiting for me to stock up enough cash to get it fixed.

  If it’s not nerve-racking enough to be sitting outside a miniaturized version of Buckingham Palace, I’m doing it by myself. Sloane’s been here helping her parents get ready for the party since early this morning.

  I’m sure her father will be thrilled she’s bringing a townie with her. He’s going to hate me. Not that it matters, since I’m just here as her friend.

  Handing off the keys to the valet, I weave my way through a sea of Lamborghinis, Bentleys, and even a stray Aston Martin. The twelve-foot-high double doors open for me at the hands of white-gloved butlers, and my jaw nearly hits the floor.

  The winding drive and fountains should have been a clue, but even they didn’t prepare me for this. I’m pretty sure my entire house can fit inside one of their bathrooms. I’ll have to see for sure when I get the chance. And this is their summer home. Summer home.

  Two large curving staircases flank either side of the room, sweeping upward. Beneath them, glass doors have been propped open, and music drifts out from between them. The marble floors shine even brighter than my brand-new dress shoes, and the conversations around me echo in the double-height room.

  People mill around me on all sides, and I slip a hand in the collar of my shirt and give it a small yank. I’m not sure if it’s this place or the tie, but I feel like I’m suffocating.

  A friendly face appears from around a corner. Blaire weaves through the crowd, her smile shining brighter than the quarter-size emerald around her neck. She looks like sex on a stick with the way her black dress clings to all of her curves.

  She gives me an appreciative once-over, raking her eyes from my gleaming black shoes all the way to the top of my head. I’d gone as far as shaving but drew the line at any type of hair product.

  Slipping her arm through mine, she guides me a few feet to the left so I’m no longer blocking the front door. “You look seriously hot, you know that, right?”

  I can feel my lips curving in response. “Right back at you.”

  Dragging her gaze from mine, she looks toward the stairs. “Sloane should be down in a minute. She’s helping Mom with some last-minute dress emergency, but fair warning: she’s a little high-strung tonight.”

  “A little or a lot?”

  She frowns. “A lot.”

  I slip a hand into my jacket pocket, enjoying the feel of the cold silk against my fingers. “What’s her deal with tonight? Is it your parents?”

  “Uh … no…” Her gaze darts away from mine, looking for somewhere else to settle.

  Her next words are lost as I catch sight of Sloane at the top of the stairs. My tie is definitely strangling me, and so are my pants. When did these things get so tight?

  She looks like a fucking goddess. Her hair is pulled back into some twisty style with a few strands hanging loose around her ears. She’s wearing a completely sheer dress with only a white tube dress thing underneath from her boobs to a few inches below her ass. It looks like someone crushed up a million diamonds and sprinkled them all over the see-through fabric. It crosses my mind that she may actually be wearing crushed-up diamonds.

  How she’s managing to walk down the stairs in such high heels I’ll never know. She’s flashing quite a length of leg with two obscenely long slits on either side of her dress. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

  When she spots us, she makes a beeline in our direction. As she gets closer, I take note of the frantic look in her eyes. She looks like she’s either going to vomit or walk straight into my arms. Hopefully not both at the same time. It would be a shame to ruin such a nice tux.

  In actuality, she does neither. She comes to a halt a few feet in front of me and says, “Hey.”

  That’s all, nothing else. She doesn’t fall into raptures at my appearance like her sister did. In fact, her eyes are bouncing all over the place like pinballs. Looking at them is making me dizzy.

  “You look really beautiful, Sloane,” I tell her. At least I’m not an inconsiderate douche.

  Her eyes snap to mine and then she looks down at her dress like she’s never seen it before. Something is definitely very off here. “Oh, thank you. You too.”

  Did she just call me beautiful? She did, but I can tell she didn’t even realize it. It’s like she’s on autopilot.

  “Is there somewhere we should be going?” I direct the question to Blaire since I’m not sure I’ll get an intelligible one from Sloane.

  She’s watching Sloane like a hawk, and she looks afraid that at any minute she might shatter into pieces. After we get wherever we’re going, I’m going to take Blaire aside and find out what the hell is going on. Whatever it is, I’d lay money on the fact that it’s the reason the two of them aren’t spending their summer at the Point.

  Blaire finally tears her gaze away from her sister and nods at the open doors. “Cocktails, dinner, dancing—everything’s through that door.”

  I nod and offer Blaire my arm. I do the same for Sloane and she automatically takes it. Through the double doors I find myself in a real goddamned ballroom. What the hell do people do with ballrooms nowadays?

  “We rent it out when we’re not here for functions—weddings, conferences,” Blaire says. Either she’s reading my mind or I actually said that out loud.

  I’m just about to ask Blaire where we’re sitting, when I hear a voice.

  “There you are, Sloane. It’s so great to see you. We’ve missed you around the Point this summer.”

  I turn toward the newcomer. He’s pretty tall but shorter than me, which I like. He’s got blond hair, pretentious dimples, and the creases in his bowtie are sharper than a razor blade. When he kisses Sloane on the cheek she goes still as a statue.

  Bingo.

  Who is this guy?

  He finally drags his eyes away from Sloane and holds out his hand toward me. I take sick satisfaction in squeezing it until I can feel his knuckles grind together, making his face go pale underneath his tan.

  “Nick Carrington,” he says. “I assume you’re here with Blaire.”

  “Actually, I’m here with Sloane.” I offer him a cold smile and drape my free arm possessively over her slim shoulders, drawing her into my side.

  His high-wattage smile falters. “You don’t say.”

  Blaire steps between us and gives him a tight smile before pressing her cheek against his in that fake-kiss way that snobby people do. “Always good to see you, Nick. If you’ll excuse us, Dad’s looking for us.”

  “Of course,” he says, stepping back so we can walk by. I don’t miss the way he’s sizing me up. Go ahead and look asshole. You don’t stand a chance.

  Blaire leads us to a table at the front of the room that is so far empty. Without any warning, Sloane shrugs off my arm and bails. She finds the nearest waiter, plucks a glass of champagne from his tray, and downs it. It’s the first time I’ve seen her drink. When she reaches for a second glass, I turn around and snag Blaire before she flees the scene.

  “Oh, no you don’t. You owe me some answers.”

  She scrunches up her face. “Technically, I think Sloane owes you the answers.”

  “Who’s the dickbag?”

  She snorts. “Please, tell me how you really feel.”

  I lift my eyebrow at her and wait. When she sighs and sinks down in a chair, I do the same. Grabbing her chair by the seat, she scoots it closer to mine. She crosses one leg over the other, leaving her top leg bare nearly to her crotch.

  “Nick is Sloane’s ex.”

  No surprise there. “And why did she go all the way to Briscoll Bay to hide from him?”

  I watch her perception of me raise a few notches. Periodically, I am able to think with my other head.

  “The short versi
on: they dated all through high school, and at some party right after graduation, she walked in on him getting head from some slut.”

  “Ouch.”

  Her lips pinch into a line. “Yeah, but it also turns out he wasn’t just screwing around with that ho but had been cheating on her pretty much since they started dating. Once the word got out, there was a flood of other girls who admitted they’d been sleeping with him. It destroyed her.”

  Another piece clicks into place. Hence the extreme disgust at my extracurricular activities. Fair enough. “If that’s the case, why is he here?”

  “It’s complicated. Our families have always been close, and they only got closer over the couple years Nick and Sloane dated. The two of them may have broken up, but our parents haven’t.”

  When I don’t say anything, she lays a hand on my arm. “Look, if you want to be mad at someone, be mad at me and Gran. It was our idea for you to come tonight.”

  “So, Sloane doesn’t want me here?”

  She twirls a strand of her hair around her finger. “I wouldn’t say that exactly. It’s just that…” She flicks her hair away and drums her fingers against the table. “It’s just that being around you is kinda like she gets the chance to go back in time and watch the way Nick was whenever he wasn’t around her.”

  “She said that?” I ask.

  She nods.

  “You realize that there is one big difference, right?”

  “And what would that be?”

  I lean onto my forearms and get up in her face. “The difference is that he was cheating on her. I’m just a single guy who’s having a good time. It’s not even close to the same thing.”

  She laughs. “I know that. You know that. I’m sure deep down even Sloane realizes that, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t hurting.”

  Chapter 14

  Sloane

  Abandoning Blaire and Luke probably wasn’t the best idea, but the call of the champagne was too tempting. If my mother hadn’t ingrained in me from birth not to bite my nails, they would be little bleeding stubs by now. Instead, my perfect manicure has remained intact, and I’m trying to drown this horrific cocktail of emotions with as much bubbly as I can find.