I’d heard enough.
I spun on my heels and speed-walked toward the exit, hurt blooming in my chest before it gave way to anger.
Fuck Josh. We’d interacted maybe four times, and he was already passing judgment on me based on one incident.
He didn’t know me like he thought he did. But I already knew I hated him.
Josh’s tan leached of color. “That was seven years ago,” he said in a low voice. “People change. So do opinions.”
“Did yours? Because until we started having sex, you treated me the same as you did in college.”
He flinched. “Look, I shouldn’t have said what I said, but I…I’m protective of Ava, especially after what happened when we were kids. You know as well as I do how trusting she is, and sometimes, she trusts the wrong people. I know now you’re not one of them, but I barely knew you back then. I was worried, and I overreacted.”
“What about the years after that?” I couldn’t shake the sting from the memory. “You’ve never liked me.”
“Because you didn’t like me!” Josh pushed a hand through his hair. He was close enough I could feel the frustration pouring off him. “We got caught in this cycle of insulting and hating each other, and I didn’t know how to break it.”
“So what changed? Besides sex.”
“It’s not…” He faltered, and the lump in my throat magnified.
“Exactly.” Don’t cry. Don’t cry. “Stop with the fake concern, Josh. It’s disingenuous.”
His nostrils flared, and for the first time that night, anger glinted in his eyes. “For someone who’s so pissed about me making assumptions about her, you’re making an awful fuck lotta assumptions about me.”
“It doesn’t mean they’re wrong.”
I didn’t finish speaking before Josh closed the distance between us and crashed his mouth over mine. I clutched his arms, willing the ache in my chest away even as my body responded to his.
“Is that what you want, then?” he growled against my lips. “Just sex, no feelings?”
“That was always the plan.” I injected forced lightness into my tone. “Unless you’re not up for it.”
“It’s like you live to piss me off, Red.” His grip turned to steel around my wrists before he released them. “Get on your knees.”
By the time my knees hit the carpet, he’d already undid his belt and pants, and heat coiled in my belly.
This. This was what I was comfortable with.
Not deep conversations or friendship or hope for some type of future. Just sex. It was all I’d ever given, and all anyone wanted from me.
I closed my eyes when Josh entered me, losing myself to the sensations of his body moving over mine. He played me like the world’s most erotic song, and despite the high emotion of the night, I still came with enough force to temporarily wipe my mind blank.
But when the orgasmic bliss floated away, the pressure behind my ribcage returned, stronger than ever.
Josh’s harsh breaths sounded deafening in the silence, and a crazy, horrifying part of me wanted to stay here and listen to him breathe forever.
“Get off me.”
We were both still on the floor. His body caged mine, and I could feel his every inhale and exhale against my back.
“Jules…” His raw voice scraped against my shredded nerves.
This was a mistake. Everything was a mistake.
“I said get off me.” I shoved him off and scrambled to my feet, straightening my clothes with trembling hands.
Josh watched me, his face taut with regret and something else I couldn’t identify, but he didn’t say a word when I left.
I waited until I returned to my room and stepped into the shower before I collapsed beneath the weight of the night.
The arrest, Max, Josh, everything. It all barreled into me until I sank onto the floor and curled my knees up to my chest, letting myself truly cry for the first time in years.
My tears mingled with the water, and I stayed there until the shower ran cold and there was nothing left except for silence.
31
JULES
I allowed myself one pity party a year, so after my shower breakdown, I gathered myself together and pushed thoughts of Max and Josh aside until after the wedding.
Luckily, the palace kept us busy with rehearsals, pre-wedding parties, and protocol lessons, and before I knew it, the ceremony was only half an hour away.
Bridget, Ava, Stella, Bridget’s sister-in-law Sabrina—her matron of honor as dictated by protocol—and I were gathered in the bridal suite for one last check before we entered the cathedral where the wedding would take place.
Seven thousand guests. Live broadcast to millions of viewers around the world.
Nerves fluttered in my stomach.
“I know I’ve said it before, but thank you guys so much for being here.” Bridget’s eyes shimmered with emotion as she looked around at us. “I know the preparations have been crazy, and the scrutiny isn’t easy, so I appreciate it.”
“We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Stella squeezed her hand, her eyes glowing with a mix of happiness and melancholy.
The same contradictory emotions dripped through me as the clock counted down to the ceremony. I was truly happy for Bridget, especially after everything she and Rhys went through to be together, but her marriage marked the end of an era.
My friends and I were growing up. We were no longer the young, carefree students we once were. We hadn’t been in a long time, but somehow, Bridget’s wedding drove that fact home harder than her coronation had.
Gone were the days of impromptu weekend trips, late night spa sessions in our dorm, and weekly catchups over coffee and scones at The Morning Roast.
Now, Ava lived with Alex and was constantly traveling for her job. Bridget was a literal queen and about to get married. And Stella was so busy with the magazine and her blog I barely saw her, even though we were roommates.
But when we were together, it was like old times again, and I would never take that for granted.
“Tell Rhys to treat you right or he’ll have to answer to us,” Stella added.
Despite her threat, we knew we didn’t need to worry. Rhys treated Bridget like a queen even before she ascended to the throne.
Bridget’s soft laugh contained a touch of wateriness. “I will.”
Someone knocked on the door. Freja, the palace’s communications secretary, entered and dipped her head at Bridget.
“Your Majesty. Are you ready?”
Apprehension cascaded across Bridget’s face for the first time that day, but she straightened her shoulders and nodded.
We did one last hair and makeup check before we filed downstairs and across the long hallway connecting the guesthouse and ancient cathedral.
The doors opened, and every thought except not tripping during my endless walk down the aisle faded.
Prime ministers. Royalty. Celebrities. Josh.
All in the audience staring at me, but of the thousands of pairs of eyes, one in particular seared into me when I passed the pews reserved for the bride and groom’s close friends and family.
My heartbeat drummed louder.
I took my place at the altar and trained my eyes on the entrance, determined not to look at a certain friend’s brother in the crowd.