Page 82 of Beached Wedding

The doors opened and I stepped inside the car with him.

“You have a death wish? You reek of sex, you prick.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” I said grimly. “This wasn’t going on when she was in Oz.”

“Fuck you, it wasn’t. Why else would you tell me not to marry her?”

“Because you didn’t love her.” I had never spoken so harshly to anyone. “And nothing happened until this morning when she got the letter from you that was so lukewarm, she couldn’t kid herself any longer. So I’ll tell you what else didn’t happen. You and Ashley.”

“Really? Why’s that? With you in the house, getting in the way all the time?”

Don’t engage.Don’t engage.

“Four times,” I blurted, showing that many fingers. “Four times I said I’d find my own place and you talked me into staying to finish the house. I’d say you’re like the mafia, but you’re more like a toddler with a security blanket.”

Shane dropped his bag and shoved me into a corner.

I lurched off the wall before the pain of contact had penetrated and shoved Shane to the other side. Things would have got very rough if the elevator hadn’t stopped and opened.

“Shane?” Sandy gasped. “Good Lord! What are you doing here?” She dropped the bulging plastic bag she was holding and came into the elevator to hug him. “The wedding’s back on?” She was beaming.

“No.” Shane gave her an abrupt one-armed hug between snatching up his bag and stepping out of the elevator.

She set out a hand to hold the door, blinking in confusion.

“Is your room on this floor?” Shane demanded. “Or?—”

“I was heading to the laundry.” She grew flustered as she stepped out and picked up her bag. She glanced between us.

“Don’t look at that prick. He busted up me and Ash so he could move on her.”

“That’s not true. Sandy?—”

She didn’t look surprised, though. More like this was news that confirmed something she already believed. She sent me a disheartened look that might as well have been a kick in the stomach.

Angry frustration gripped me. I was hurt that she immediately believed the worst, but guilty because Shane’s accusation wasn’t completely wrong.

The doors started to close and I said, “We’ll talk later, when you’ve cooled down.” Knocking each other around wasn’t going to solve anything.

“Go fuck yourself.” Shane started down the hall.

“We’re this way, love,” I heard Sandy say.

If she looked back at me, I didn’t see it. The doors sealed and I leaned against the wall as the floor dropped. I was sick with myself for letting things fall apart so badly. I tried to push the button for Ashley’s floor, but the elevator finished its descent to the lobby.

Now I couldn’t get back to the vista level without a card keyed for it. I didn’t even have my own room key.

Brilliant. Just fucking brilliant.

I crossed to the lobby telephone, but Ash didn’t pick up. I left a message that I’d be in the take away shop in the lobby, then sat there eating a breakfast bagel I charged to my room.

What had even just happened? How had things turned inside out so quickly?

Walking into the suite to see Shane there, naked, had been a punch in the gut. Not one of guilt, though. A green-hazed possessiveness had knocked me off balance. Shane and I could take the piss and get competitive with one another, but we were always on the same side. Suddenly, he’d been a rival. A threat.

Shane had sensed it right away. He’d made jokes, had given us the benefit of the doubt by asking if we’d been to the pool, but suspicion had hung in the air like a whiff of smoke. Shane andAsh didn’t know each other down to the last eyelid twitch, but Shane and I did. We had both had our fur up from the second we’d laid eyes on one another.

Refusing to leave when he asked me to had betrayed things further. I had been hanging on her every word, listening for the revelation I dreaded—but maybe wanted?

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