Page 157 of Enemies

The second couple starts, but this time, all I can see is the back of the groomsman’s suit. Every muscle in me stiffens.

“What’s wrong—oh, shit.” Callie grabs for my hand.

I can’t look away.

“I didn’t think he and Kian were still friends. I didn’t know he’d be here…” Callie’s furious whisper echoes in my ears, and I feel her turn toward me. “Did you?”

There’s no way I can answer.

Because when the couple reaches the front and the groomsman turns, I feel as if I’ve been shot in the stomach.

18

HARRISON

I park at the end of the row, not bothering with the valet.

The ceremony is over—the bride and groom are outside, taking pictures. Guests mill about, cocktails in hand. I cross the green expanse toward the vines and the bar, Rae’s phone in my grip.

None of the faces are hers.

A pair of women glances toward me, and their attention lingers as they freeze. Then one of the women grabs another passing by, drawing her in and whispering.

But I press forward toward the bar, where my gaze catches on a familiar profile. “Whelan.”

Zachary turns, and the man who holds my club’s future in his hands straightens his tailored suit. “Harrison.” His mouth curves. “And here I thought putting you on the calendar for this week would get you off my back.”

I extend a hand, and he takes it.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Friend of the groom.”

“Right. I recall my girlfriend saying she knew you. Raegan Madani,” I go on as I look past him, searching for her amidst the crowd.

When I turn back to the man in front of me, he’s transformed.

“This some kind of joke?” His voice is low, his lips thinning into a line.

I don’t answer. I’m too busy trying to figure out what could’ve happened to set him off in the space of a single breath.

Not even a breath. A name.

Rae’s name.

My body tenses. There’s something I’m missing, a piece just out of reach.

“Not a joke.” I’m bluffing but match his low tone.

I didn’t like this man the first time I met him, and that emotion is quickly seeping toward repulsion as he looks around furtively.

“Anything that happened was a long time ago, and it was between us.”

What the fuck?

“You’ve been around,” he goes on. “You know how it is. In college, you like to drink, experiment. Girls see an older guy they want…” He wets his lips. “It’s how rumors get started.”

The vineyard falls away, the world receding down to a point that’s Zachary, his reddening face and shifting eyes and expensive tux with the boutonnière.