Page 48 of When You Are Mine

The rhythm of that chant drowned out the whisper of Walsh’s name, a raspy reminder of the closeness, the desire, the rightness she’d felt with him and no one else.

If he had been anyone else. If she had been anyone else.

You don’t believe in soul mates?

Walsh had whispered the question in a darkened gazebo, the air thickened with the lingering intimacy of shared nightmares and cleansing tears. She wouldn’t leave this choice to her soul, or to her heart, those fickle twins who leaned on the caprice of emotion.

Cam’s hand had been extended mere seconds, but long enough for that question in his eyes to fully form. She answered with a sure smile and a firm clasp of fingers. Yes, she would be his only. And he would be hers. She took her cue from Walsh. He had it right. Better not to even look into the green eyes she’d never figured out how to hide from. Her path was before her and she would not stray.

* * *

Walsh settled onto the couch where he’d lost his virginity, in the living room of the guesthouse. He looked down at the cellophane bag that had been thrust into his hands. It was filled with the petals of lilies to toss at the bride and groom as they drove off to their honeymoon.

Their honeymoon.

Walsh’s gut pretzeled at the thought of Cam initiating Kerris into lovemaking. He hoped she’d found time to tell him about TJ, and that Cam would be gentle and patient and sensitive and selfless and considerate. All the things Walsh would have been if that privilege had fallen to him.

He clutched the bottle of Kauffman he had found like it was a rope dangling him over the fires of hell. Walsh knew he’d need plenty of vodka to eradicate the hundreds of images that had tortured him all day. Kerris walking up the aisle to his best friend, like a fairy tale with a tragic ending. Cam’s face, lit with joy when he reached back for the ring buried in Walsh’s pocket. Kerris’s solemn face when she’d promised to love, honor, and obey a man,a friend, Walsh wasn’t sure could ever be worthy of her. He knew Cam’s weaknesses as intimately as his own. What if Cam hurt Kerris as he’d hurt most of the women who had passed through his life? What if he was unfaithful? Unkind?

A growl slid from Walsh’s throat, low and vicious. The hurt and anger and confusion he’d held back all day penetrated the wall of self-control set rigidly in place since the sun rose on what felt like the worst day of his life.

He kicked the coffee table in front of him, relishing the pain that shot through his foot and leg. He strode over to the small kitchenette, rifling through the cabinets in search of a tumbler, a plastic cup, anything to drink from. Hell, he’d drink from his shoe if he didn’t find something soon. He banged the counter with the palm of his hand before taking a long draw from the bottle, sucking it down inelegantly, rivulets of the liquor sliding into his starched collar.

“Mind sharing?”

Walsh looked over his shoulder, surprised to see Sofie.

“Not in the mood, Sof.” He hoped she’d take the hint and clear out before he said something that would hurt her irreparably. “I thought you’d already left.”

“I was talking with Jo.” Sofie sidled up beside him to run her long fingers down his arm. “She told me I’d probably find you here.”

Thanks, cuz.

“She shouldn’t have sent you.” He drew another quick swig of the deceptively smooth liquor. “I’m not in the best mood.”

“And why’s that?” Sofie knit her brows into a beautiful puzzle, looking at him from beneath her heavily mascaraed lashes. “I mean, your best friend just married a lovely girl. They looked so happy. And that toast you gave. It was perfect.”

Walsh tightened his lips, remembering the hardest part of the farce. The toast. As the maid of honor, Meredith had shared her best wishes first. Under the cover of the light applause, she’d leaned up to his ear.

“Your turn, big guy.” The knowing sympathy in her eyes had jolted him. “You can do this.”

“I couldn’t tell who you loved the most.” Sofie jerked him back to the small guesthouse that still smelled of vanilla and brown sugar. A scent that would haunt him forever. “You were so generous with your words for both of them.”

He looked at Sofie, sure that she was sniffing around the truth, trying to figure out something he didn’t want her to know. Something no one could ever know.

“I haven’t known Kerris long, obviously.” Walsh kept his tone neutral and caressed the vodka bottle. “But she makes Cam happy, so I’m happy.”

“Yeah, you look real happy.” Sofie drenched her words with sarcasm, gesturing to the bottle of vodka.

He walked over to sit on the couch, placing the bottle of liquor carefully on the coffee table. Control. That was what would get him out of this conversation, with Sofie none the wiser.

“Iamhappy.” He forced one of his old rakish grins. “Who doesn’t love a wedding? Especially when it isn’t yours?”

Sofie crossed over from the kitchenette, her rolling hips and easy stride better suited to the catwalk than the small living room above a garage.

“Weddings make me horny.” Her voice was a hot rasp, and she towered over him like a Nordic queen, contemplating a subject she planned to reward handsomely.

“Yeah?” His tone didn’t want to give her any ideas, but it looked like she already had them.

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