Page 118 of One Time in Paris
36
AIDEN
The only thingworse than lying to Callum, Aiden had discovered, was knowing that Callum knew about it.
That and watching Isla snuggle with Tomas for the goddamn travel show.
His throat burned as he sipped his glass of scotch, tearing his eyes away as Tomas’s lips nuzzled Isla’s neck.
“Might want to relax your grip on that glass,” Kyle said from beside him. “Squeeze it any harder, and it might shatter in your hand.”
Aiden slammed down the rest of his drink and sat back in his chair at the long, elegantly decorated dining table. Thank God for younger brothers right now—both Kyle and Logan were the only ones who were keeping him sane during this blessed event.
Quinn and Mason, on the other hand, had barely uttered two words to him.
Kyle reached into his pocket and pulled out a flask. “I was saving this for later, but it looks like you could use this more than me.” He handed it over to Aiden. “Nothing fancy. Jack Daniel’s. I am from Tennessee.”
Aiden chuckled and uncapped the flask, then took a swig. “You’d be surprised, but I’m not the liquor snob. That’s more of an elder Camden trait.” He flicked a glance at Quinn, who stood by the bar, surrounded by friends from uni, including Callum. Quinn and Callum had more friends in common—as they were the same age.
Maybe I’ve only ever been the stand-in. The convenient one. The one who was around when Quinn wasn’t.
The pathetic, jealous thought snuck in before he could stop it—and he swallowed it down with another swig of whiskey.
But wasn’t there truth in it? Hadn’t it always been true?
When push came to shove, Quinn had picked Callum over his own brother. And if Callum had to choose a friend between the two of them, Aiden was certain it wouldn’t be him.
Especially not now.
Now that I can’t look Callum in the eye.
Now that I know he knew I was lying to his face.
“They aresucha handsome couple,” Mum was saying across the table, a few seats down as she spoke to his father. “And he’s fairly famous, isn’t he? Marlene was telling me she’s seen him in a magazine.”
Aiden followed the direction of his mother’s gaze. She was speaking about Isla and Tomas. Tomas took a moment to give her a twirl, then led Isla onto the nearby dance floor, where the music was still soft and slow. Exactly the kind of shot Boyd had wanted. Intimate. Romantic. Made-for-TV magic.
Oh perfect. A spin.Maybe they’d do the tango next. Or a dramatic lift,Dirty Dancing-style.
Tomas’s arms wrapped tightly around Isla, his hands grazing dangerously close to her arse. And of course she looked incredible—her gray dress hugged every curve like it had been stitched on by sin.
Tomas’s hands smoothed lower on Isla’s backside.
Aiden bit down on the inside of his cheek.
He focused his gaze on the cameraman, who stood discreetly to the side. For all the rest of the guests knew, he was just there to film the reception.
It’s just an act.
She’s an actress.
“How long is this production going to be hanging around for?” he hissed at Kyle.
“I think like an hour or two.”
“How much fucking footage do they need?” he growled.
“You know, I think Logan mentioned something about cigars on the balcony. Why don’t we see if he’s still out there?” Kyle asked, pushing his chair back.
