Page 101 of Floodgates

“Feel free to mingle, and there’s food and drinks out on the deck.”

There was, in fact, a huge spread out there, monitored by a whole host of catering personnel. It was a security nightmare, and I wondered vaguely if Cord knew.

Breckin stood with Celia, his parents, and friends in a small huddle. When I drifted by I heard him sharing stories. Celia was holding his hand and shot me a look as I walked by. It wasn’t necessary—I had no claim on the man anymore, and I wanted to tell her that. But from the way she visibly bristled, I decided the best thing was to just stay away. The next circle was discussing country clubs, trust funds, and European vacations. It was all over my head, so I walked on.

Out on the deck, I filled a plate and took a seat at a small table by myself. A member of the staff came by, dropped off a goblet of water, and asked me if I wanted something else as well.

“Ice tea?”

“Flavored, sweetened, or non?”

Dear Lord. “Just regular unsweetened black, if you have it.”

“Of course.”

It was impressive, really.

“Hello.”

My head snapped up because I had been eating—voracious sex created quite an appetite—and met a pair of soft blue eyes.

A man held out his hand to me. “I’m Lucien Ritter, an old friend of Breckin’s, and I understand you’re a new one.”

“I am,” I said, smiling up at the handsome man as I shook his hand. “I’m Tracy Brandt.”

“It’s a pleasure.”

I invited him to sit with me since he was holding a plate in his other hand. Once he was seated, the waiter delivered my ice tea and asked Lucien what he wanted. After he’d ordered and we were alone, I asked him how far he and Breckin went back.

“To high school, actually,” he said, smiling at me. “It was me, Breckin, and Turi.”

“Who?”

“Turi Carrera. The three of us all swam together, played soccer, and ran track.”

“Oh. Like the three musketeers.”

“Yeah.”

“And where is Turi now?”

He cleared his throat. “He died—” He made a quick noise. “—is easiest to say.”

“What’s harder?”

His gaze met mine. “He committed suicide.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Right after that, Breckin left for college without a word. This is the first time I’ve seen or talked to him in eighteen years.”

“I’m so sorry,” I said sincerely, reaching across the table to squeeze his shoulder briefly. “Not only did you lose Turi, but Breckin too. That had to have been so hard.”

His gaze locked on mine. “You’re very kind; no one ever said that to me before.”

I was surprised, and my look must have conveyed as much.

“I think it’s because we’re guys, right? I mean, how connected could we have been?”