Page 50 of Fumbling for Perfection

“Riley, Margaret Riley, is the most wonderful woman I’ve ever met, and I’m proud to call her my best friend for the past decade. And I hope we have decades more of friendship, especially after today.” He glances at me, then at his father, then at the crowd. “I can’t marry her because...because I’m gay.”

“Jackson.” I clutch at the front of my dress and gape at him. I force myself not to look over at Taylor.

“Sweet Jesus,” Kendall curses behind me.

“I won’t make Riley suffer through a marriage with me when I can’t love her the way a husband should love a wife. I love her with so much of my heart though. And I trust that those of you who work for Bankes Incorporated, and those of you who do business with us, continue to see me and the company as the top professionals in the field. My sexual preference has nothing to do with the top notch work we do for you. It shouldn’t interfere with any friendship I have either, except with the one who was to become my wife. I only hope she can forgive me for humiliating her in a way like this. On her wedding day, when she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

“Jackson.” Tears fill my eyes.

He gives me a smile and a wink and threads his fingers with mine before addressing his wedding guests again. “If you’ll excuse us, my best friend and I need a few minutes of privacy, but you’re all still welcome at the country club to enjoy bottomless drinks and food. Please, celebrate friendship and love today in our honor.”

He’s sacrificing his inheritance, his relationship with his father, and possibly his place in the company by releasing me from our verbal contract. He’s doing this for me.

I close my eyes, not caring about the dark rivers of mascara that are surely making tracks down my cheeks.

He’s releasing me. Freeing me.

Only I’m still trapped in the bed of lies I’ve made and slept in.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

WALKER

What. The. Fuck? I’d had my suspicions when we were young, but in the past twenty-four hours that I’ve gotten to know my brother again, I’d never have guessed he was gay. Not that there’s a secret marking or sign that signals if someone is gay or trans or straight.

Even seated in the back row, I can see our father’s eyes grow wide at Jackson’s announcement before he quickly recovers his stoic countenance, but I focus my attention on Riley.

Her tastefully made-up face turned ashen. My brother shocked the fuck out of her. Either she had no idea he was gay or she had no idea he’d be standing her up at the altar. Either way, her reaction was believable.

Even the tears appear real. But what the fuck do I know? I believed her the first night I met her when she said she was single.

Jackson takes Riley’s hand in his and addresses the crowd with his political smile. I don’t know if I should be impressed or disgusted with how cool and calm he is while Riley is a train wreck ready to collapse any second.

She stumbles and Jackson gracefully guides her down the aisle littered with fucking rose petals. I clench my teeth, not sure what I’m so pissed about. Betrayal. Mine? Riley’s? I don’t even fucking know why I’m emotional right now.

No one here knows who I am. That the groom is my big brother. That the parents of the groom are also my parents. That the jilted bride-to-be has been in my bed and on my mind in the past two months more than I can count.

That I fucked her six ways to Sunday the night before my brother slid that giant rock on her finger.

Riley’s obnoxiously poofy dress brushes across my leg and I stare up at her while she stares at the floor in front of her. If she notices me, she makes no sign of it. Even through the gauzy veil, I can see the streaks of makeup on her cheeks, her frightened eyes, her ashen skin.

Part of me wants to tear her away from my brother who humiliated her in front of her friends and family, and the other part of me wants to tell her this is what she deserves for stringing me along and making me fall for her.

A flash of yellow blurs past me and I watch Kendall and Rowan in their wake, followed by Taylor. My father and mother rise from their seats and storm down the aisle as well. Lydia Bankes is the epitome of stoic. Trained to never show emotion, she’s perfectly unreadable. Sebastian, on the other hand, is clenching his jaw and forcing a smile so tight I swear he’s going to break his back molars.

Once the wedding party has left, the rest of the guests begin to stand and pile out.

“Did you know?” a woman asks her husband.

“Hell no. He’s never shown any signs at the office. Doesn’t matter. Jackson’s the best in the business. I feel bad for the bride. Madeline, is it?”

“I think her name is Meredith.”

“Margaret,” I mutter under my breath.

The man glances at me, narrows his eyes as if trying to figure out where he might know me from.

“Friend of the bride?” he asks.

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