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The crowd cheered and toasted. Glasses clinked, and laughter swelled as Oscar made a funny face at Roman before being enveloped in Roman’s big bear hug.
That night, when the reception finally began winding down, Oscar held out his hand to me, and I took it. We walked back to the room without saying a word. No more metaphors, no more jokes, no more heartfelt discussions. By unspoken agreement, we both seemed to recognize that we’d talked enough, thought enough, and wanted to spend the rest of the weekend in each other’s beds and bodies.
When we came together in the dim light of my hotel room, Oscar’s movements were slow and sultry. I couldn’t tell if they were muted by the free-flowing wine and cocktails at the reception or if there was something about this sweet summer night that had taken the restless edge off him. I might have even dared to hope that I was right earlier. That maybe my clumsy attempt at a metaphor had gotten through to him. Whatever it was, I wanted to bathe in the feeling, sip every ounce of need from his skin, and do my very best not to use a single cell in my brain to worry about any of it.
Afterward, we settled with our heads on a single pillow, and I felt closer to Oscar than I’d ever felt to another human being. The night had cooled enough to slide open the terrace door and listen to the low, rhythmic tumble of the waves in the distance.
I want this forever, I thought as I drifted off to sleep. And despite telling myself that it wasn’t possible over and over and over, some small sliver of my heart still wanted to believe that it was.
That was my last conscious thought before falling asleep. But when I awoke to an empty bed and sheets already cold, I knew this time it wasn’t because Oscar had simply gone to grab coffee.
The small sliver of hope shriveled up and floated away on the summer breeze coming in from the open door.
11
OSCAR
I woke up well before sunrise. The soft ocean breeze blew in from the terrace, accompanied by the rhythmic sound of waves lapping in the distance. It should have been soothing. It should have lulled me back to sleep.
Hugh lay sprawled on top of the white sheet, his bare skin moon-pale in the shadowy light from outside. My eyes roamed over him like they were on a scientific mission to find and record even the most minute of details. He was perfection personified. Even his flaws fell in the pro column of any true assessment.
While he was peacefully asleep and looked like an angel, he scared the ever-loving shit out of me. So much so that I slunk backward off the bed without making a sound. Once I was standing, I stared at him a little longer. I’d like to say I was torn between staying and going, but the truth was, I wasn’t torn.
There was no doubt in my mind I needed to get the hell out of there before doing something incredibly stupid.
As I pulled my clothes on as silently as possible, I wondered whether I could impose upon my pilot to fly out six hours earlier than we’d originally planned. First, I needed to pack my stuff, which meant sneaking past rows of closed doors where the wedding guests were most likely curled up with loved ones, enjoying the kind of peaceful sleep I wouldn’t enjoy again anytime soon.
I was almost through the well-lit lobby when I heard an intentional throat-clearing by the coffee stand. I jerked to a stop and discovered James sitting at a small circular table with a coffee cup and an open laptop on it.
“Good morning?” he said, phrasing it more like a question. He eyed the rumpled clothing I’d thrown on from last night. “Am I witnessing a typical walk of shame or some kind of darker situation like… like a slink of doom?”
My nerves felt raw and overstretched, as if the slightest pressure on them would cause my carefully controlled plan to spiral into a million colorful shards like Chuckie’s indoor fireworks experiment.
“Neither. I just need to hit the road.”
James’s eyes narrowed. “Make yourself some coffee and join me for a minute.”
“No, I?—”
“Fucking sit down, Oscar.” His voice was gentle but firm.
I let out a breath and helped myself to a coffee, taking extra time to stir the wooden stick around the cup before finally taking a seat at his table. James and I had been good friends for a long time, and I knew he of all people would understand my situation.
“You working?” I asked, trying unsuccessfully to avoid the elephant in the room.
He nodded. “Sawyer got up early to help set up a grab-and-go breakfast station for Roman and Scotty’s guests. I decided to catch up on some accounting. Now that we’ve covered that riveting topic, tell me about Hugh.”
I opened my mouth to make a flippant comment about how good he was in bed, but the words died on my tongue when I caught James’s eyes. “I can’t have him.”
James nodded, which honestly took the wind out of my sails. Why did he have to agree so quickly?
“Clearly. It would be a mistake, right? After all, everyone knows a few bad relationships means you should give up any attempt at relationships from here on out.”
I blinked at him. The words were delivered so calmly, so rationally, it took me a minute to recognize the sarcasm.
“So you agree?” I shot back. “Good. Can I go now?”
I started to stand up, but he reached a leg out to hook his toes around the base of my chair and yank it closer to the table. I stumbled back into my seat and glared at him. Still, his calm demeanor never wavered.
