Thank You for Holding Page 34

“You two go ahead,” Chloe says, adding milk to one of her cups. “I’m going to take this up to Nick. I’ll bet he’s still asleep.”

Ryan and I head for the main door and the path to the ocean. No one’s on the beach yet. It really is a beautiful morning, warm and bright, and without the humidity of summer the air is crisp. There’s a gentle breeze. We settle on the sand, facing the ocean. It’s a moment of peace before the craziness of the wedding formalities kicks in.

Just sitting together in the sun feels so comfortable. Jamey would have searched for twenty minutes for the exact perfect spot, dug a hole for his Provençal umbrella, set up the wood and canvas sling chairs, poured mimosas (with mint leaves and orange slices) in plastic champagne flutes, and started work on the sandcastle. A replica of Neuschwanstein. With turrets.

Ryan is so… low maintenance.

“How do you think it’s going so far?” he asks. “Are your friends buying our act?”

“I think so. Angela and Diane were certainly convinced last night. That uh, show you put on for the news woman will certainly cement it.” My eyes drift to his bare belly. I lick my lips. “Thank you again, Ryan. I know this is a lot to ask of anyone, maybe too much.”

He’s quiet for a minute, squinting out at the waves. A few people are starting to appear on the dunes, unfolding chairs or spreading towels. Some are walking along the edge of the surf, shorebirds scattering ahead of them.

“It’s not too much,” he says finally. “It’s easy. I could do this every day.” He touches the back of my hand lightly, tentatively, with one fingertip, and I shiver in spite of the warmth. “It’s the opposite of too much. It’s not enough. I was thinking about this all night…”

A seagull dive-bombs a group behind us, the sudden flurry of activity making us both turn and look. And then —

“Carrie! Is that you?” Someone in a floppy white hat and big sunglasses is calling and waving. I look up from Ryan’s intent face and there’s Jess, Jenny and Jamey’s college-age little sister, barreling toward us. Yes, their parents did the cute same-initial thing. Their family dog? Junebug. You should have seen their Christmas cards.

“Hi, Jess,” I say faintly.

Go away, Jess.

There is really not one thing she could say that I would be interested in hearing at this moment.

Is that rude of me? Because I don’t know where Ryan was going with what he was saying, but something in me wants to find out.

Nope. Jess is on a mission.

“Carrie, come on, we’re supposed to all have brunch together!” Jess reaches down and picks up my empty coffee container. “We barely have time to get dressed!”

She appears to notice Ryan for the first time. “Oh, hi, I’m Jessica, I’m Jenny’s sister, nice to meet you!” She holds out a sandy hand.

Ryan shakes his head once and stands up.

“Jessie, this is Ryan Donovan, my… “

“I’m Carrie’s date. Her boyfriend, actually.”

“Really?” Jess looks from Ryan to me and back again, obviously astonished. “Wow.”

It’s unclear whether this means “wow, that was fast” or “wow, he is so out of your league.”

I sigh. “Let’s go to the brunch, then.”

“I think I’ll hang here for a while,” Ryan says. “I’ll see you back at the room later.”

In perfect boyfriend mode, he puts one hand on the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. As I balance myself, one of my hands lands on his hipbone, the other on his abs. I’m getting used to the taste of his mouth, the male scent of his skin. New but somehow familiar. I lean into it a little bit, breathe him in.

Just a little. Just for now.

Just pretending.

He pats my ass with a loving touch and a half grin that makes Jess gape.

Who knew Ryan could be such a good actor?

“Don’t be gone too long,” he says with a wink, then turns away from us, his attention on the horizon.

“Right,” I say faintly, my butt tingling from that affectionate love pat.

As Jessie and I trudge up the dunes toward the hotel, something catches my eye a little way up the beach. It’s an umbrella, in what looks like a Provençal print. A man sits beneath it in a canvas sling chair while another man kneels in the sand, building a sandcastle. Jamey and Kevin.

Huh. Nailed it.

And the funny thing is, I feel a sense of relief. If the orange juice isn’t fresh-squeezed, if the greenheads are biting, if the iPod dies, it’s not my problem. I’m not going to be in the Instagram shot of the perfect Cape Cod beach day. Kevin is.

I glance back at Ryan, sitting in the sun with his coffee, quiet and casual, completely unrehearsed.

I wish I were sitting next to him.

RYAN


The last thing I need right now is a shot of excitement from caffeine, but I need to do something with my hands and mouth before I use them both on Carrie in extremely not-safe-for-public ways.

Gulping a Grind It Fresh! coffee so fast it burns my throat is a luxurious form of masochism. I’ll take it.

She smells so good. Tastes like honey and sunshine. The wall inside me between real and pretend is being demolished.

And not just by my horny jackhammer.

I stand and move up the dunes to where the inn has lounge chairs lined up facing the water. Choosing one on the end, I stretch out, coffee in hand, October sun giving my body a nice, light toasting as my heart rate goes back to pre-kiss levels. The run was for cardio.

But there are other ways to get your heart rate nice and high, and they don’t involve miles on the beach.

“Chill out, man,” I mutter under my breath, curling up to take a sip of my coffee. Abs tight, I make myself stay in place, lats tensing, working my core to get some composure. Staying centered emotionally starts with being centered in the body.

Or something like that.

I open my eyes and catch Carrie as she disappears into the hotel with Jessie. As if she feels my gaze, Carrie looks over her shoulder at me, longing etched in her face.

Yeah. If I had to choose between a brunch with a bunch of crazy wedding women and hanging on the beach sipping a latte, I’d pick coffee, too.

I smile at her, but she doesn’t smile back. Instead, Jessie pulls her arm impatiently, and Carrie trips slightly, righting herself quickly, moving with long strides that turn her ass into an animated upside down heart.

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