“Obviously, it suits them for some reason,” Rick guesses.
“Could they be involved?” I ponder out loud as the thought pops into my head.
“Honestly, I wouldn’t rule anyone or anything out,” Drew says, and we all nod.
Silence descends for a few beats.
“It’s quiet without Jackson,” Anderson says. “He should be here.”
“He was going to come back early, but I told him not to bother. It’s not like this wedding is the real deal.” My friends are all attending tomorrow, with the exception of Van and Jackson, but it’s only for moral support.
“It’s quiet without Daniels too,” Drew adds because he likes to stir shit on occasion.
To think I just took pity on him. I feel an urge to punch him in the face. “Because inviting my ex—my very loved-up ex—would’ve been the cherry on top,” I drawl, deciding I want to do shots. Curling my fingers at a passing waitress, I reel her in and order a round of tequila shots.
“He’s not loved up,” Anderson corrects after the waitress has left. “You know that’s for your benefit.”
Memories of Xavier with his tongue down Jamison’s throat resurrect in my mind, and a sour taste floods my mouth. It’s like he’s been on a mission this week to ram his relationship in my face. I guess threatening to fire his lover really got him wound up. “You haven’t seen them this week. They are all over one another. Xavier’s not that good of an actor. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. We’re done. I’m over him.”
Four pairs of eyeballs stare at me. “I am!” I growl, snatching a shot off the tray before the waitress has even had time to set it down.
Okay, maybe I’m not, I think as I take the stairs to Xavier’s apartment, two steps at a time. This seemed like a good idea when I was leaving the bar, but I’m more drunk than I realized, and this might not be the best plan. Oh well. I’m here now. Might as well say hi.
I almost stumble, clutching the banisters to stop myself from falling. Perhaps I should have waited for the elevator. Sydney and Mom would string me up if I showed up tomorrow with a broken limb. I imagine me rocking up in a wheelchair or on crutches, and I snort out a laugh as I make my way along the hallway.
It’s late, but Xavier is a night owl, and he’s usually up working or watching reality TV. I rap on his door, holding on to the door frame as the world spins a little. Woah. I’m definitely more drunk than I thought. No one answers, and I frown. Light spills out from under the door, so I know he’s still up. I bang on the door. “Xavier. It’s me. Open up!”
My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, cursing when I drop it on the floor. I’m bending down to retrieve it with one hand on the door to steady myself when it swings open, and I topple sideways into the apartment. “Shit.” I grab at my phone, seeing Sydney’s blurry face swim before my eyes on the screen. Rejecting the call, I slide my phone back in my pocket and scramble awkwardly to my feet.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Xavier says, folding his arms across his naked chest.
My gaze is laser-focused as my eyes travel the length of his body. Rivulets of water roll down his impressive chest and abs, sneaking under the towel he has wrapped around his waist. Xavier runs his hands through his wet hair, pushing it back off his face.
“You should wear your hair like that more often. You look hot. Sexy.” I have a feeling I’m slurring my words and swaying a little on my feet.
Xavier scrutinizes my face. “Fuck. You’re smashed.” Concern mixes with uncertainty on his face before he sighs. Taking a hold of my arm, he leads me into the apartment, shutting the door after me. “Sit.” He pushes me down on the couch. “I’m going to get you some water and coffee, and then I’ll call an Uber to take you home.”
“I don’t want to go home.” Reaching out, I grab his hand. Familiar tingles shoot up my arm the instant our skin makes contact, reminding me our connection is still very much alive. “It’s lonely there. I want to stay with you.”
“Sawyer, you don’t get to do this anymore. We’re not together.”
“I miss you, and I’m getting married tomorrow to someone who isn’t you, and I just need to hold you one more time. Please, Xavier. I promise I won’t touch your dick. Just let me sleep beside you one last time.” I know I’m a rambling mess, but I’m too fucked up to care.
“You are fucking pathetic,” Jamison says, coming up behind Xavier. He’s also wearing a towel and dripping wet. His hands land on Xavier’s waist, and I have never hated a person more than I hate that asshole in this moment. “To think I used to respect you.”
I want to tell him he’s a dick, but my vocal cords won’t cooperate.
“Jamie, don’t.” Xavier turns around until they are chest to chest. “He’s drunk. Just let me help to sober him up, and then I’ll get him an Uber.”
“He’s not your responsibility anymore, baby.” Jamison grabs Xavier’s ass, pulling him in flush against his body as he grinds his hips against his. “And we were in the middle of something good.”
“It can wait.” Xavier pushes him away. “Please. Just go back in the bedroom, and stay there.”
Jamison’s nostrils flare as he glares at me. His features soften as he cups Xavier’s cheek. “You’re too forgiving, X. It’s not always a good thing.” Jamison eyeballs me before he lowers his mouth to Xavier’s, claiming his lips.
Pain lashes me from all sides, and I think I might puke. What the hell was I thinking coming here? I know they are hot and heavy. I should’ve known his boyfriend would be here. So much for Anderson and “he’s not all loved up.”
Xavier doesn’t prolong the kiss, much to Jamison’s obvious disgust, but I know when I’m not wanted. “’Sokay. I’m leaving.” I struggle to my feet, wishing I could click my fingers and be zapped out of here.
“Sawyer. Stay put. You need to sober up a little,” Xavier says, concern reappearing on his gorgeous face as he moves in front of me.
“You’re right,” I say, barely able to look at him. “I shouldn’t have come here. It won’t happen again.” Shoving past him, I rush out of his apartment, cursing my own stupidity and vowing to evict Xavier Daniels from my head once and for all.
13
Sawyer
I stare out the window of the limousine as I twiddle the silver platinum band on my ring finger. It still feels surreal. All day, it felt like I was undergoing an out-of-body experience. But it is real. I’m married. Bound to the woman in the gorgeous white dress sitting at the opposite end of the seat, staring out her window as New York City flashes by en route to my penthouse.
Sydney’s things were moved over earlier while we were giving the performance of our lives in the grand ballroom of the New York Majestic Hotel.
“What?” Sydney asks, and I snap out of my head. I didn’t realize my gaze had shifted and I was staring at her.
“Nothing.” Looking away, I return to staring out my window as her long sigh echoes in the space between us.