Page 24 of How to Say I Do
Maybe tomorrow I could swing by his villa to say hello. I could tell him about Luis, and about how he’d tried to get me drunk on champagne before ten a.m. Noël would laugh at that.
Lord, I was inventing reasons to talk to him now. I really was sixteen again.
“Wyatt, come on!” Liam waved at me to get moving. Everything was ready. Coolers stowed, family settled, Jason clipped into his life vest and his safety line. Savannah and Trish reclined in the netting stretched between the twin hulls at the front of the catamaran. Below them, there was a sharp, six-foot drop to the sea. Jason thought the net wasfan-tastic, and he was living out his best Spider-Man dreams. Savannah’s parents reclined in the shade on the rear deck, sipping frozen daiquiris as they took a well-earned break from their child and grandchild.
Liam was waiting for me, holding out his hand. I took one last look…
And there he was.
Noël hurried down the dock, his straw hat and his aviators on and a beach towel slung around his neck. He was in his plastic resort flip-flops and resort-branded board shorts, wearing a still-fold-creased resort t-shirt. He looked flustered and uncertain, and his steps slowed as he saw the catamaran full of people.
“Noël!” I blame Luis and his three glasses of champagne for what came next. I jogged to Noël and threw my arms around him while my entire family broke their necks craning to check out what on Earth was going on. “You’re here!”
“I thought this was just going to be your brother and his fiancée? And Jason?”
“Savannah’s parents came down for the wedding, and Savannah brought her best friend, Trish—”
He looked like a baby horse about to bolt. “Wyatt, Ireallyshouldn’t be here—”
“Yes, you should. I want you here.” I tugged on the hem of his t-shirt. “We’ll have a great time. You’ve given me two amazing days. Lemme give you a fun day?”
His big blues looked up at me over the rims of his aviators. “I feel like I’m intruding.” His cheeks ballooned, and he blew out a fast breath. “I feel like I’m being desperate.”
”You’re not. At all.” If anyone was desperate, it was me. “My family is going to love you. Can I introduce you? Please?”
He let out an uncertain sigh, but he went with me when I beckoned him toward the boat. As we walked, my hand settled on the small of his back. Was that him leaning into my touch? My thumb circled a single vertebra, the tiniest massage.
Of course,everyonewas watching us. I felt the weight of their eyeballs digging into my skin as Noël and I climbed aboard. Liam helped Noël over the railing and then parked himself in our path. “Howdy,” he said to Noël. “I’m Liam.”
Texan men come in two shapes and sizes: big and bulky, like me, or rangy and gangly, all knees and elbows, like Liam. I was built like a bull. Liam was built like a frog that stood up. You could tell we were brothers by the shape of our cheekbones—our mother’s—and the way we wore our hats, which we’d learned from our dad, but that was it. Liam was in Texas-flag swimming trunks and no shirt, and his thin chest and bony shoulders were already pinking from the sun.
Noël turned on his charm faster than he had in Dallas/Fort Worth when he’d sneaked that bottle of vodka onboard the plane. “Pleased to meet you, Liam. I’m Noël. Wyatt has told mesomuch about you and Savannah.”
“Yeah?” Liam lifted his hat and smoothed a hand over the top of his hair. “You a friend of Wyatt’s?”
Oh, how to answer that question. I looked at Noël. He looked at me. “We met here—” I started.
“Well, on thewayhere.”
“We met in Dallas.”
“Wyattrescuedme in Dallas.”
“We found out we were both flying to Cancun—”
“To the same resort!”
“—and we ended up sitting next to each other on the plane—”
“And—” Noël seemed to realize the next part of this explanation wandered into honeymooners’ territory, with a big story about our arrival and our sudden status as newlyweds. “And we’ve hung out together a lot,” he finished, leaning into my shoulder as he shot Liam a New York smile.
I knew all Liam’s tells. My brother was trying to act restrained and hold himself back from doing something ridiculous, like, say, jump for joy, or break his face open with a whoop as he shook me until my teeth rattled.
Yeah, yeah, Liam. You win.
I hadn’t wanted to come down here all by my lonesome before the wedding. What was the point? Sit on my butt in the sand when there were vines to tend? Liam had insisted, loudly protesting that I needed a break, unhelpfully pointing out that it had been years since my last real vacation, and was I honestly counting summer break between junior and senior year of high school as a vacation? I held firm—grapes don’t tend themselves—but then he’d dressed the whole thing up like I’d be helping him and Savannah if I checked out the resort before they got there.
I, of course, folded immediately. Give me an opportunity to help someone and I’m putty.
