Page 68 of Fumbling for Perfection

“Oh my God, Jackson. Please don’t do this. Please don’t put him between our friendship. I haven’t said anything about him these past few weeks because I want you two to rekindle your relationship, but I don’t want to be involved. The topic of me is off the table for both of you, understand?” I hop from my chair. “Just because he’s a part of your life doesn’t mean he’s a part of mine.”

“I’m sorry, Riley.” Jackson folds me into a hug. “No fighting on my wedding day. I love you and want to see you happy. You were once, and I want that back for you.”

Yeah, I was once. A few months ago. And then I wasn’t.

“Enough.” I pull away from him and tap his cheeks. “This is your wedding day. You’re marrying the love of your life. Today is about you. You love being the center of attention, so enough about me.”

“I love you, Margaret Riley.”

“Call me that again and I’ll pray to the wind gods to mess your hair up during your vows. Maybe even call in a monsoon. Or a tsunami.”

“Yikes. Put the daggers away. I expect that from Kendall, not you.”

“Yeah, well, the daggers have recently become a staple in my life.”

He kisses my forehead and looks over my head with a grin. “There’s the rest of the crew. Time to go up on deck and get the party started.”

I give Kendall and Rowan a quick tour of the yacht and they drop their bags in one of the bedrooms, as I had done earlier.

When Kendall sees the bar, she rushes to it. “We pregaming?”

Earlier, there was no one behind it. Now a nice-looking older gentleman stands behind it, black tie and all. Only the finest for the wealthy.

“I suppose one drink can’t hurt.”

“Champagne?” the bartender asks.

“Hells yeah.” Kendall loops her arm through Rowan’s and mine and we don’t waste any time drinking from the crystal flutes.

“Celebrating without us?” Taylor asks, coming down the stairs, followed by Jackson and, who I presume to be Charles, Taylor’s brother.

Charles is just as handsome as his brother. Maybe a few inches shorter than Walker and lean instead of muscled like him. His eyes are dark brown instead of stormy gray, and his hair is as dark as his eyes.

I inwardly berate myself for comparing him to Walker. Yes, he’s handsome, quite so, but he doesn’t stir the dormant butterflies in my belly. I don’t miss the murmurs coming from Kendall and Rowan as they check him out.

“Please tell me he’s straight,” Rowan whispers.

“You must be Riley,” Charles steps forward and takes my hand in his, bringing my knuckles to his lips.

“Fuck me,” Kendall mutters, not too quietly, which garners a grin on Charles’s lips.

“Um. Yeah.” I don’t loosen my hand from his and introduce my two drooling friends.

“I’m single. I mean, Kendall.” She holds out her hand and Charles lowers mine to give Kendall’s knuckles the same treatment. If she were the knee wobbling sort, her knees would have given out.

“And Rowan?” He turns his attention to Row, who’s as scarlet as her bathing suit peeping out from under the straps of her light blue sundress.

“Yes,” she whispers, and hell if it doesn’t sound erotic, even to me.

My girl is flustered. Both my girls are.

“Taylor, you’ve been holding out on me,” Charles says to his brother over his shoulder.

Jackson and Taylor are paying us no attention, lost in each other’s embrace.

“Sir, if you’re ready,” the captain, who is also a justice of the peace and will be marrying Jackson and Taylor, says from the opposite end of the lounge.

“Oh. We’re ready.”

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