Page 58 of All Twerk, No Play

She’d been the love of his life, the light to his dark. When she died, the darkness won. Nothing I did could pull him back. He’d resigned himself to the reality that he could never find that happiness again, burying himself in work to pass the lonely days.

A ragged breath pushed out my next words. “After she died, my dad listened to that final verse on a loop.” I gathered all my courage to look directly at Eric’s face, seeing my grief reflected. Trusting him to hold the words that haunted my dad, I sang the lyrics about never escaping the sound of the woman who loved him.

Eric reached over, gently wiping an unexpected tear. He silently slid an arm under my neck and rolled me to face away while still keeping me close, knowing I wanted my privacy as he wrapped his top arm around my waist to hold me.

I hadn’t intentionally let him into my life. He’d breached my defenses while dancing, using my jealousy to get under my skin. He’d charmed me in the elevator, gathering scraps of my confidentiality through Truth or Dare. He dedicated that song to my independence during his class. He’d slowly, patiently chipped away at my resolve.

He’d come to my home, cleaned me up, and stayed to ensure my safety. He wanted to be here, even if I didn’t understand why he cared. And I was too hungover and too tired to push him away again.

So I let him stay in my bed, leaned my back into his chest, let the warmth of his body sink into my bones, and dropped my guard enough to fall asleep in his arms.

"Gold Dust Woman," Fleetwood Mac

Victoria

Myphone'sringtonewokeus up. I rolled away from Eric's warmth, heart lifting at the name on the screen.

“That's my cue to shower without a handsy redhead groping me,” Eric teased, stretching his arm overhead. “Unless you want me to wait so you can join me?”

I shoved him playfully as he strolled into the bathroom. He pulled off his shirt to reveal his muscular back, surprisingly devoid of tattoos. I tore my attention away before he removed his pants.

“Congratulations, you get a new sister. Might balance out your family.”

“Doubtful. We’ll bring Grace down with us,” said Nick Clarke. Most people recognized his stage name, Dominic Martin, but I'd known him long before his big break.“Calling to make sure you’re ok.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I snapped, forgetting Nick's front-row seat to my relationship with his brother, before everything fell apart.

Before he landed the role of Apollo in the critically acclaimed TV dramaThe Twelve, Nick slept in our spare room for two summers while he performed at the San Jose Shakespeare Festival. The three of us climbed up onto the roof deck of our building overlooking Palo Alto, drinking Fort Point Kölsch and feeling the soft summer breeze off the Bay.

When Nick had gotten his big break seven years ago, I’d helped him navigate life in the spotlight, finding ways to guard his privacy … including negotiating the purchase of his mansion in Hollywood Hills. The house had an entire secure wing that was off-limits to party guests, which the tabloids speculated was a sex dungeon. I counted myself honored to be among the handful of people who knew what was really behind that famous door.

Not even his brother knew.

Alexander had been so overwhelmed with college frat brothers and teammates who crawled out of the woodwork to gain access to fame that he’d shut Nick out, wanting to build his own reputation outside his brother’s shadow.

For years I’d encouraged him to call Nick, but he’d refused.

Grace somehow convinced Alexander to mend the rift in less than a month.

“It was weird enough to be his business partner, but asking you to be his groomswoman? That seems cruel.”

Oh my god. I’d been hoping that was part of some fever dream … but now that Nick said it, dread pooled in my gut again, triggering a new round of nausea.

I’d agreed to stand beside him while he pledged his life to somebody else.

Not only that. There would be parties. Bridal showers. Rehearsal dinners.

And I’d have the face them all alone.

“If you’re dreading it,” Nick said, taking my silence for discomfort, “you won’t be the only one with lingering feelings for an ex in the wedding party.”

I startled out of my pity party to remember the group. Alexander asked me and Nick. Grace asked her brothers, Mallory, and … “Kate?”

“Alex doesn’t know that we were ever together. It was that summer in New York, before I gotThe Twelve.”

“The girl who blew us off for dinner? But you were so …” heartbroken, I almost reminisced aloud before I stilled my tongue.

When he moved back to LA to start filming, we flew down to celebrate.

---