Sweet Alibi (27 page)

Our breathing came back to normal, we held each other, me still wedged against the door, his head still tucked firmly into my neck. His sweat-slicked skin beneath my fingers, his damp, golden hair tickling my cheek, our bodies pressed together skin to skin. Hard and soft. Dark and light. We were a contradiction in every way.

I ran my fingertips along the skin of his back, my fingernails raking along his muscles. I kissed along the line of his neck. I fucking loved him and I hated it. I hated him for making me love him. I hated Kyle for leaving me alone so many nights for so many years. And mostly I just hated myself for doing this to all of us.

I lowered my legs from around the sharp line of his hips and fumbled in the dark for my clothes. After pulling my panties up my legs and my dress over my shoulders I smoothed my hair behind my ears, fidgeting in the small space. 

I needed to go. 

Needed to leave. 

Needed to escape. 

A jolt shook my body when Tristan skimmed his thumb along the line of my jaw. “Georgia, I–”

“Babe! You back here?” 

My heart lurched and my hand pressed to my lips. “Kyle.” I mouthed the word, my gaze searing Tristan. He stood still, his index finger lifting to press to his lips in the universal sign for
shhh
.

I nodded and waited. I deserved this. I deserved for Kyle to find me and Tristan, our skin damp and flushed from fucking. 

We listened to shuffling in the sand in between the echoing booms of the fireworks. My heart raced and my chest heaved with erratic breaths. 

Oh god. 

Not now. Not an anxiety attack. I bit down on my bottom lip, trying to stifle the sensation. Trying to swallow down and hold it in. 

“Georgia?” Tristan ducked his head and took my shoulders in his hands. My limbs shook with fear, anxiety pulsed through my veins, I shook from my fingertips to my toes. “Georgia.” He whispered louder, his eyes searching mine. I only shook my head. I couldn't form words. Couldn’t even take full breaths. 

“Kyle!” Tristan bolted around me and threw the shower stall open.

I slid to the door. 

Oh God, he would tell him. He would confess everything. He was throwing me under the bus. Forcing my hand. 

I couldn't. I couldn't. I couldn't.

I slid to the sandy tile floor and stuck my head between my knees trying desperately to focus on my breaths. 

Twenty-Six

Georgia

THE NEXT MORNING, I had a splitting headache. I threw a pillow over my head, willing the throbbing to subside before deciding that a tall glass of water and Advil were in order. I sighed, stretched, and then slowly opened my eyes to find Kyle next to me. I rolled to my side and placed my palm lightly on his chest, the diamond ring sparkling in the light that suffused the room. His deep, rhythmic breathing told me he was still sound asleep, so I snuck out of bed and padded into the bathroom. I stumbled in front of the mirror and assessed the damage from the night before.

I rubbed my hands over my face, willing the sleep away. I touched the dark circles under my eyes and frowned; getting old was a bitch and I had a feeling the alcohol wasn't helping matters. My eyes trailed further down my reflection in the mirror and landed at my hips where the hem of my T-shirt met the pale pink of my panties. I squinted at my reflection.

“What the hell?” I leaned in to get a closer look.

Bruises.

Fucking bruises on my thighs. Perfectly round bruises.

I turned to the side and found more where the top of my thighs met my hips.

Suddenly last night came crashing back to me. I remembered walking around the side of the house, Tristan leaning against the wall of the outdoor shower looking sad and broken.

Our fighting. Our kissing. Our fucking.

Kyle. Tristan. My breakdown. 

“Oh God.” I covered my mouth with one hand as bile rose in my esophagus.

I remembered all of it.

I closed my eyes and replayed the scene in my head. When I opened them the evidence of our wild, forbidden coupling was on my thighs. I peeked out the bathroom door and found Kyle still sleeping. What had happened? Had Tristan told him? Why was he...how could he be...here? In bed with
me?
 

I shut the door and slid down to sit on the cold, tile floor. Shoving my head in my hands I tried to calm my breathing. I had to talk to Tristan. Had to find out what had happened after I'd blacked out. After we'd....and then Kyle had...

 Bile lurched into the back of my throat as I realized I’d had sex with Tristan the night that Kyle had proposed to me. The day of my engagement I’d had sex with someone else. 

I willed myself to breathe deeply while my mind raced. I was having a panic attack; if I didn't get ahold of myself I would be an incoherent blob on this bathroom floor, in the same state I'd found myself in just last night.What the fuck was I supposed to do? My fiancé
―
the man I’d loved and cheated on
―
slept in the bed right outside this door. And the man I’d cheated on him with was in this house somewhere. What a fucking mess. I was no more than a whore who had trampled all over the hearts of each of the men she cared for.

I had the urge to puke.

“Georgia?” Kyle tapped on the door.

“Yeah?” I croaked.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, just don't feel very well.”

“Okay, can I get you anything, babe?”

Babe. He was calling me “babe.” That meant he didn't know. But how could he not? How could he possibly not know what Tristan and I had done? 

“Georgia?”

“No, thanks. I'm fine. I'll be out in a minute.” I answered as my mind raced. 

“Okay.” Kyle's footsteps padded out of the room. I gritted my teeth and tried to breathe deep and slow through my nose, filling my lungs, expanding my chest cavity, closing my eyes, and thinking serene thoughts. I can fix this. I can do what's right. I can still make the right decision. I’d made the wrong fucking decision at every turn this summer, but there was still time to make the right one.

I lifted myself off the floor and opened the door, making my way to the closet. I pulled on a pair of long shorts. Most of the shorts I had were too short and would show my bruises.

“You’re up early,” I mumbled to Silas sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee. I poured one for myself, and a glass of water.

“Early night.” Silas shrugged.

“Seriously?” I swallowed two Advil and gulped the glass of water.

“You don't remember? Justin and I had a spat, apparently dancing with someone else
―
even if you’re not exclusive
―
is not okay with him,” Silas grumbled.

“Didn't see that.” I frowned, taking a sip of my coffee. I wondered if Tristan was already awake. I glanced at the closed French doors, an indication that he was probably still sleeping.

“Where did you disappear to? Kyle was looking for you during the fireworks.” Silas took another drink from his mug.

“I wasn't feeling well, I laid down for a while.”
Or got laid.
I heaved an exasperated sigh.

“Hmm, come to think of it, I didn't see Tristan either.” Silas looked me squarely in the eye.

“Hey, babe, feeling better?”

Kyle drifted into the kitchen in a T-shirt and shorts.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I responded weakly.

“Too much to drink, huh?” Kyle asked and leaned in for a kiss, sliding both his hands up my thighs and under my shorts. Kyle stroked his thumbs along my flesh, in the same area Tristan’s hands had held me against the wall the night before. I cringed.

“I guess so.”

“You should probably lay off the hard stuff. Remember your therapist said alcohol can increase the likelihood of a panic attack?”

“What?” 

“Last night. Tristan said he found you on the floor of the shower in a full blown panic attack. You looked bad, babe. I don't want to have to worry about you down here if you're going to be drinking like that.” Kyle worked slow circles on my shoulders with his thumbs. 

“You had a panic attack last night?” Silas' voice rose in alarm.

“Oh, yeah. It wasn't a big deal. It hasn't happened in so long, I guess I just blocked it out.” I placed a hand to my forehead and feigned confusion. I was lying to my fiancé, and now my best friend. 

“No more drinking?” Kyle caught my chin between his thumb and index finger.

“No more.” A small smile curved my lips. 

Was I really going to get away with this? Was Kyle so trusting of me that I could sleep with someone right under his nose and he wouldn't bat an eye? 

I couldn't think about it anymore. “Want me to make some breakfast? Pumpkin pancakes?” I pulled away awkwardly. I couldn’t stand his hands or his lips on me right now.

“You okay to cook?” Kyle poured coffee. 

“You should rest, Georgia. If you're not feeling good...” Silas placed the back of his hand on my forehead. 

“I'm fine.” I swept his hand away. “Go bang on doors and wake everyone for breakfast.” I stood and headed for the pantry.

“It's just Gavin and Drew. Tristan didn't stay here last night,” Silas said.

“Really? Where did he stay?” I spun around quickly, catching myself. Silas noticed my reaction, but Kyle stood oblivious, sipping his coffee and looking out at the beach.

“No idea, he left just after the fireworks…” Silas said pointedly.

“Oh.” My mind raced, a thousand thoughts bouncing around. I turned back to the pantry as anger prickled my skin, the blood scorching in my veins. He was gone. He'd gone home with someone else. Would Tristan do that? Would he be with me, then fuck someone else after? I didn't remember how we'd ended things. I was so fucking drunk I didn't even remember anything until seeing those bruises this morning. But maybe he’d been so drunk he didn’t remember either. Pain sliced my heart open that he could forget our coming together last night.

I need you.
His words echoed in my brain.

I fucking need you so much.

I need you.

I need you.

What did that mean? In that moment? For a while? The rest of the summer? Forever? My hands started to shake and tears pricked my eyelids as I reached for the flour on the top shelf. My breathing sped up and I found myself at the onset of another panic attack. The image of his arm wrapped around the beautiful brunette he’d brought last night flashed before my eyes. My heart ached at the possibility that he'd been in her bed last night, or he'd brought her to his boat. That he'd had both of us. Blood surged through my veins and my limbs began to shake in anger, pain, and anxiety before the sack of flour hit the floor and exploded all over my feet.

“Georgia?” Silas and Kyle hurried into the pantry after me. I’d dropped to my knees on the pantry floor, my legs covered in flour, tears flowing silently down my cheeks.

“I don't feel well.” I avoided Kyle's eyes and looked only at Silas. I pleaded with him to understand, to help me, to protect me from myself. I was no good at operating my life; I needed someone to do it for me. For so long I’d relied on Kyle, but I’d fucked that up this summer. The only person I had left was Silas, my best friend who never judged me, only loved me. “Can you help me to bed?” I murmured.

“Come, love,” Silas whispered as he lifted me into his arms. Kyle watched us leave with a confused look on his face. Silas carried me down the hallway and set me in bed. I curled up and nuzzled into the pillows that still smelled of Kyle, falling asleep with this desperate notion that everything I’d thought about my life was now turned upside down and on a collision course
―
an impending explosion the only foreseeable outcome.

* * *

I SAT SIPPING coffee on the deck, staring off into space. Kyle had left yesterday afternoon after I’d insisted I was fine. I’d told him it was probably just dehydration from the drinking the night before and the ever-present humidity. He’d finally left, giving Silas strict orders to call him if anything else happened and to make sure I drank plenty of water.

I lifted the coffee cup to my lips, my thoughts moving to Tristan. Our night in the shower, the passion, rage, and anger swirling around us as we connected like we never had before. He was rough, but I understood why. He wanted to stake his claim. Our emotions had been out of control all summer, and finally when I’d given him that little piece of me on the beach
―
the night we slept wrapped in each others’ arms, the morning that I’d given him hope that we could be together
―
it’d crushed him when Kyle had announced our engagement. We were so frustrated that we’d taken each other in the shower stall with abandon. Claiming each other with everything we had in us, all of the pent-up frustration that had simmered all summer had come out in those long breathless moments when we’d connected. And I still had the evidence on my thighs, a reminder of how Tristan had made me feel. The pool of love and lust he’d thrown me head first to drown in.