Page 16 of The Ex-Girlfriend Agreement

"All yours."

She disappears into the bathroom, and I hear the shower start. I drop onto the edge of the bed, running my hands through my hair. This is even harder than I expected—pretending to be in love with her for her family while pretending not to be affected by her when we're alone. It's exhausting, and we're only on day two.

By the time we make it downstairs, most of the wedding party is already gathered in the lobby, dressed for the beach. Taylor bounces over, resplendent in a flowing cover-up over her bikini, a large straw hat perched on her blonde head.

"There you are!" she exclaims, hugging us both. "We were about to send a search party. Late night?" She winks suggestively.

Brooke blushes. "AC's out in our room."

"Ooh, that's rough." Taylor links her arm through her sister's. "But the beach will be nice and cool. And wait until you see who's here! James invited him as a surprise."

"Who?" Brooke asks, but Taylor is already pulling her toward the group.

I follow more slowly, adjusting the towel slung over my shoulder. I'm not looking forward to a day of playing the doting boyfriend in front of an audience, but at least the ocean will provide some relief from the heat—both actual and metaphorical.

The hotel's private beach is a crescent of white sand bordering clear turquoise water. Palm trees provide patches of shade, and hotel staff have already set up chairs and umbrellas for our group. It would be paradise under different circumstances.

Brooke drops her beach bag on a chair and slips off her cover-up, revealing a blue bikini that sends my brain into temporary shutdown. Two years in New York have been good to her—she's still curved in all the right places, her skin golden in the morning sun. I fight to keep my expression neutral as she bends to rifle through her bag for sunscreen.

"Dean!"

I turn to find James approaching with another man—tall, tanned, with the kind of carefully styled hair and perfect teeth that scream "I try too hard."

"This is Chase Davis," James says, clapping the man on the shoulder. "Old friend from Taylor's hometown. Chase, this is Dean McAllister, Brooke's boyfriend."

Chase's smile falters slightly when James says "boyfriend," but he recovers quickly, extending his hand. "Great to meet you, man. Heard a lot about you."

His grip is too firm, too eager to prove something. I match it, smiling blandly. "Can't say the same."

"Chase!" Brooke's voice, surprised and a little too high. She straightens, her eyes wide. "Oh my God, what are you doing here?"

"Surprise!" Taylor grins, clearly pleased with herself. "James invited him as a groomsman when his brother couldn't make it. Isn't it perfect? Now both my bridesmaids have their high school crushes here!"

Brooke's face flames red. "Taylor!"

Chase laughs, stepping forward to hug Brooke. "Good to see you, Brooks. It's been, what, ten years?"

"Something like that," she agrees, her smile tight as she returns his hug.

High school crush? I look between them, something ugly stirring in my gut. The way he's looking at her—appreciative, familiar, like he's mentally cataloging all the ways she's changed since high school—makes me want to step between them.

Instead, I move to Brooke's side, sliding my arm around her waist in a gesture that's both possessive and perfectly in character for her boyfriend. "Babe, you need help with that sunscreen?"

Brooke blinks up at me, a flicker of understanding crossing her face. "Sure, that would be great."

Chase steps back, his smile dimming slightly. "So, how long have you two been together?"

"Four years," I say smoothly, taking the sunscreen bottle from Brooke's hand. "But it feels like forever, doesn't it, sweetheart?"

She nods, leaning into me slightly. "Dean's practically part of the family now."

"Lucky man," Chase says, his eyes still lingering on Brooke. "Well, I should go help set up the volleyball net. Catch up with you later, Brooks."

As he walks away, Brooke exhales slowly. "Sorry about that. I had no idea he'd be here."

"Your high school crush?" I can't keep the edge from my voice.

She rolls her eyes. "I was sixteen, Dean. And nothing ever happened—he was dating the head cheerleader."

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