“I’m good. Just the whole wedding thing.” I wave my hand in the air.
“Don’t worry. Your time will come,” he says.
My head rears back. “Oh, I’m not upset because it’s not me,” I hammer back, automatically becoming defensive. The last thing I need is for him to get down on bended knee even though I’m fairly certain the ring would be downright spectacular.
“I wasn’t suggesting—”
“I’m sorry, Curtis. It’s just that this chaos drives me crazy,” I lie. I’m not some anal planner. “She drives me crazy.” I nod to Bayli, Brad’s fiancée. “How does all that makeup even stay on her face?”
Bea overhears me and starts laughing. “How about the hairspray? If Brad ever ran his fingers through it, they’d get stuck.”
Now, we’re both giggling like mean High schoolers. If I assume correctly though, Bayli and her friends were the mean girls. I glance back to the girls inspecting each other’s nails. Shaking my head, I join back into my table’s conversation.
“What are his odds?” my dad asks Mr. McCain.
I slyly pretend I’m not eavesdropping.
“They say he’s already in. Even if another swimmer brings his best, Tanner can beat him. You should hear it. They go on and on about him,” Patrick brags about his eldest son. He deserves to. He worked hard to get Tanner into swimming lessons and camps. Even when Patrick got laid off for a year, he made sure Tanner didn’t miss an opportunity.
There were times I believed Tanner’s family was to blame for what he had done two years ago. He never wanted to disappoint their dream of him becoming an Olympic swimmer.
“Well, making Swimming magazine sure says he’s doing something right,” my dad compliments, showing no sign of jealousy just because his son wielded the same dreams.
Now, Brad sits on the patio with his witch of a fiancée.
“I’m sure proud of him.” My dad says to Patrick.
I glance over and see my dad looking at Brad. His genuine smile speaks volumes. My dad doesn’t care that my brother chose to stop swimming after college. Instead, he went on to grad school, getting his master’s in business.
“All in all, I’d say we did good, Chris.” Patrick tips his beer bottle to my dad, and they clink them together.
“I agree. Four great children.” My dad turns his attention to me and smiles before it falters.
“Four happy children,” Patrick adds.
My dad focuses on me and raises his eyebrows in question.
I stare back, allowing my dad to see the uncertainty lingering underneath my facade. The heartbreak might have been glued together, but it never fully dried. He’s more perceptive than I give him credit for.
Seeing my dad’s pained look makes the air thicken around me.
Unable to stay seated, waiting for my world to turn upside down, I flee. “Excuse me,” I choke out, standing up.
When I’m halfway to the patio door, it opens, and I’m greeted by a set of emerald eyes. My breath increases, and my head spins before I see the body attached to them.
“Piper.” With his words, I’m in his arms, and he’s spinning me around in a circle. “You look good, girl.”
Once my feet are on the wooden planks of my parents’ deck, I push back to observe the grown-up boy he’s become.
“Dylan, you’ve become a man . . . a very tattooed man.” I laugh, admiring his broad shoulders and full sleeves of tattoos running up and down each arm.
Shit, two years of college, and he’s transformed from the lanky body I remember.
Chuckling, he shakes his head at my comment. Staring down to investigate all of his ink, he holds out his arms. “Yeah, well, I figure I’ll never be as perfect as Tanner, so to hell with everyone.”
“Dylan, you’re just as perfect as Tanner,” I argue back.
He smirks and gives me the classic McCain wink.
“Aw, thanks, girl, but don’t lie to me.” He pulls me into his arms one more time and holds me tight.
As I hear the shuffling of chairs of people getting up to greet Tanner’s younger brother, he whispers in my ear, “He’s right behind me, Piper.”
With his words, shivers run up and down my body.
“Thought I should warn you.”
Although I should have known that Dylan knew about us, his confirmation strangles my airway a little more.
“Thanks.” My fingernails tightly grip his shoulders, not wanting him to leave me.
“You have to let me go. Otherwise, people are going to talk about you and the McCain boys.” He laughs.
I can’t help but choke out my own giggles. Pushing back, he nods his head one time in confidence I can do this.
Then, just like that, I’m on the sidelines while the throng of people welcomes Dylan back after a long absence at college. I startle when a hand glides along my lower back, stopping on my hip. I peer over, finding Curtis watching the welcoming home for Dylan. For the first time in two months, his touch feels foreign as though his hand doesn’t fit around me. He’s not meant to be here in this moment. Unable to explain the foreign sense to myself, I stay steady and watch the people give Dylan handshakes and pats on the back while Bayli and her friends admire from the afar. Obviously, they’re waiting for Dylan to approach them, living true to the stereotypes I’ve already casted them with.
After the parting of ways, I find a peculiar situation. Bea is still sitting, fiddling with her phone, while she glances back and forth from Dylan and her phone. When everyone disperses, Dylan ignores Bayli and her friends. Instead, he makes a beeline to Bea.
I laugh to myself from the absurdity of that joke.
He takes a seat next to her, and she smiles, shaking his hand, as she admires the tats. Then, she picks up her phone and ignores him. I wish I could take a picture and show her how timid she’s being with him. It’s not her style. She’s usually more of the take-charge kind of girl. So, her behavior now only means one thing. She likes him.
Appraising my friend’s curiosity for the guy giving her all his attention averts my fears of the next person to walk through the door.
“I’ll be right back,” Curtis softly says in my ear before his fingers leave my body.
I hate to admit what a relief having him gone is. He opens the door, slides through it, and pauses for a second to talk to someone. My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach when Curtis is replaced with the man who broke me.
My body begs to run, to hide, to conceal myself from him, but I’m frozen in place, taking him in. He’s more muscular, and his hair is shorter, the waves almost invisible. The skin my fingers used to trace is now a golden brown. I watch him search the backyard before he’s spotted, and a stupid part of me hopes that he was trying to seek me out in the crowd.
“McCain!” Brad screams, hopping up from his chair.
Tanner’s zeros in on his best friend. “What’s up, man?”
They give each other the one-armed hug before parting. As the others join Brad on welcoming Tanner back, I gulp at his muscles flexing and releasing with each handshake or hug. He looks good—gorgeous, in fact. I hate my body for disobeying the pep talks from earlier this week. He’s only been in front of me for one minute, and it’s already lost the battle.
Bayli and her friends stand. I guess Tanner McCain, swimming god, is good enough to approach. Brad introduces them. Tanner holds out his hand to Bayli, but she steps into his arms, giving him no choice other than to hug her. It’s brief, and it’s the one and only time I’m jealous of Bayli. She’s in the arms of the man who ignites safety within me. Worse is, she’s right where I want to be. Her friends take turns wrapping their arms around his taut waist, and their eyes close at the nearness, almost looking as if they’re inhaling his scent. Is it the same as I remember?
Patrick and my dad’s chairs screech behind me, and I blindly step aside to allow them through. They pass me, and each one hugs Tanner. He smiles, nodding at the compliments he’s most definitely getting. After his dad releases him, Tanner finds me. Every nerve running in my body tingles, and I stare back at him, unable to refrain.