And Clay was four thousand miles away in Brazil.
Darlene touched her friend’s arm. “You’re not serious about running off overseas again, are you?” Zia had mentioned taking another volunteer coordinator position, somewhere far away from everything and everyone. “I’ve just gotten used to having a roommate.”
Zia looked blankly around the party. A sea of men in sharp suits and women in sky-high stilettos or dresses all the way to the floor. “There’s no future for me here.”
Zach’s mother, Catherine, caught Darlene’s eye, gesturing for her with the wave of a diamond-encrusted hand. “Go easy on yourself,” Darlene told Zia. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Zia replied. “I just wish I was saying that to…” Her words wilted and died.
The backyard started to fill. Fifty guests became one hundred, then two hundred. It was both Korean and Hamptons custom to have a sizable guest list. Darlene was no longer playing the role of devoted girlfriend—she felt like she was Zach’s girlfriend, proud of his accomplishments, grateful to be connected to him. She chatted briefly with Liv, noting how much happier the wedding planner was looking lately. Savannah did not seem as rosy-cheeked. Darlene spotted her gazing at a quartet of cool, gay lady couples, before snapping to, and hurrying inside.
Just as Darlene was starting to think she wouldn’t see Zach until the ceremony, the patio door slid open, and there he was. Her jaw dropped. “Holy Livingstone.”
Zach in a tux? Simply spectacular. Tall, dark, and mouthwateringly handsome. He was James Bond, an ad for Rolex, an argument for dual citizenship. The three-piece tux was the same blue as his eyes. It made his shoulders look square, and his body look strong. His typically floppy brown hair was swept back off his face, exposing clear skin and cheekbones Darlene didn’t even know he had. The entire effect made him look like Prince freaking Charming. How had she ever doubted it? She was, and perhaps always had been, hopelessly, crazily, wildly in love with this boy. This funny, sensitive, surprisingly sweet boy. Her fake boyfriend. Her real heart.
He hugged a svelte blonde in a tight red dress and kissed her hello. Darlene worked hard to let the wallop of jealousy pass—it was nothing; it was a wedding. After the blonde left, he finally caught Darlene’s eye. And yes, there was the reaction she was hoping for: the pulse of his eyes and slackening of his mouth as his gaze dragged up and down her dress. She approached, dopey with desire, lifting her mouth to his. Somehow, her lips landed on his cheek.
Zach stepped back, putting a foot of air between them. “Hey. You look great.”
Great? Not beautiful, not gorgeous? Where was tongue-unfurled you-look-sexy-Dee Zach? “You look fantastic.” She moved closer, putting her hand on his chest. “Can we talk?”
He resisted. “I have people I need to say hello to.”
Ignoring this, she tugged him away from the other guests, to the end of the patio. Her heart was pounding, terrified at the prospect of uncut, emotional honesty. But she couldn’t put it off any longer. “Zach.”
“Darlene.” His voice was crisp. “There’s something you should know.”
“Me first, please. Look, I know neither of us expected this. But these past few months have been—”
“Zach, sorry—what bathroom should I use?” The svelte blonde in the red dress was back.
Zach lit up like a Christmas tree. “Bitsy! You know it’s bad form to do coke before the ceremony… and not invite me.” He moved toward her, away from Darlene.
Darlene tried not to think it. But here it came: Bitsy was exactly Zach’s type.
Bitsy laughed and whacked him with her clutch. “Don’t be silly, Zook. I just want to know if I can use the one in Imogene’s room, or if she’s in there getting ready.”
Zach looped an arm around Bitsy’s shoulder, drawing her to his chest. “If she is, there’s a good chance a lot of drunk bridesmaids are by her side. So maybe I should come with you.”
Bitsy laughed again and extended a hand to Darlene affably. “I’m Bitsy. Family friend.”
“Family favorite,” Zach amended. “This is Darlene. We… work together.”
What? Was he drunk? High? She stared into his completely clear eyes. “And, I’m your girlfriend,” Darlene added. Right?
“Oh.” Bitsy sobered, confused.
Both women stared at Zach.
Zach laughed, as if Darlene had done something hilariously stupid. “In name only.” He shot Bitsy a devilish smile. “Can you keep a secret?” And then Zach proceeded to explain the whole damn scheme to a titillated Bitsy—the contract, the $25,000 paycheck, the trust. It was like watching actors in a Broadway play break the fourth wall and start discussing the denouement with the front row. “So, we only have a few more weeks of pretending to like each other.” Zach looked oddly, almost scarily, cool. “To be honest, it’ll be a relief when it’s over.”
Bitsy gave Darlene a scandalized smile. “Oh my gosh. It’s so Pretty Woman of you.”
The words hit Darlene deep in her stomach, adding to the sick wave of confusion. She couldn’t even pretend to smile back. “Zach, can we talk?”
“Congresswoman!” Zach brushed past her to extend a hand to a distinguished-looking Black woman in a blue gown. “I’ve been meaning to chat with you about your recent climate change bill. It’s an absolute cracker, but does it go far enough reducing emissions from steel? Convince me!”
What.
The hell.
Was happening?
* * *
The ceremony was lovely, but Darlene didn’t hear a word. The dinner was delicious, but Darlene didn’t taste a bite. The DJ was excellent, but Darlene was too busy watching Zach get stupendously smashed, flailing around the dance floor like a sentient scarecrow, to hear a single note. Every time she tried to corner him, he found a way to cold-shoulder her or, worse, flirt with another woman, right in front of her. She’d be furious if she wasn’t so flummoxed. What had changed? Surely Zach hadn’t just woken up and decided he wanted to go back to his old bachelor ways, apropos of nothing? A large part of her wanted to leave. Head back to the hotel, become close friends with the minibar and fire up Tinder or something equally reckless.
But a larger part—the part that, for better or worse, still cared about this man—needed to figure out what was going on. To parse the meaning of that moment from his best man speech: “It’s a small miracle to find someone who will love you, and accept you, for who you are. Who you can trust, completely.”
She swore he looked right at her, his eyes ice-cold.
She found him at the bar by the pool. His once-immaculate suit was destroyed—jacket gone, bow tie askew, shirt halfway untucked. His previously neat hair was back to being tousled and undone. He was laughing with a hot female bartender. Darlene took the spot next to him and folded her arms.
He took her in, blinking slow and disdainful. “I’m busy.”
“I’m not leaving until we talk.”
“For Chrissake.” He rolled his eyes. “Take a hint.”
Darlene didn’t move.
“Fine.” He twisted to face her. His sneer was gone. In its place was pain. “I heard you. Talking to Charles. In the bookstore. You left your phone on after I called you.”