The Wedding Affair (The Affair Series Book 2) (27 page)

He kissed her. They were in a public spot, and with the way their luck had gone so far, probably under direct TSA surveillance, so it was brief but deep and complete.

“Call me when you land. And then call me when you get home.”

She sniffled miserably and bobbed her head.

“Don’t cry, golden girl. We’ll figure it out. Pinky swear.”

He offered his pinky. She found the strength to laugh and curl pinkies with him. After kissing her hand, he stepped back to give her some space and stood over her as she wiped her face and pulled it together.

Walking away from him at the checkpoint was the hardest thing she could ever remember doing. As she stepped next in line for the screeners, he called out to her.

“Sam,” he said. “It’ll be okay.”

How she made it to the gate with tears clouding her eyes was a miracle. Now, all she had left to do was survive without sobbing through the whole flight like a baby.

“There’s a for real dark cloud hanging over your head, Ry. Anything I can do?”

Ali’s concerned voice let him know she wasn’t just ripping on him. Ryan glanced at his and Kyle’s folks. They were gathered around a small table playing cards and from the sound of things, their dads were cheating up a storm.

He patted the seat next to him for his sister to sit and then didn’t waste any time unburdening himself. At that moment, it occurred to Ryan that the opinion and feedback of a seasoned romance writer might be helpful.

“Jesus, Ali,” he groaned. “Got caught in the storm, big time.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah. Zero to holy shit in under ten seconds.”

“She feel the same?”

His head bobbled from the force of him throwing back onto the seat’s neck rest. “Fuck. Yes.”

He sensed Ali’s pause and turned to look at her. “What was the fuck for? This isn’t something you’re happy about, or is there something else?”

Ryan turned the other way and looked back over his shoulder—checking out what the ‘rents were up to.

“Between us?” he asked.

“Pinky swear,” she said. He almost started to cry.

“And no fucking judgment, okay?”

Her amused snort was one hundred percent older sister smugness. “Well, there’s no way I can guarantee that, squirt. So out with it and take your chances.”

Reflex made him check on his folks one more time. No way did he want them overhearing this. He shuddered at the shit storm that’d come his way if they did.

“The something else? Two words.” He choked on the telling, but he couldn’t keep it to himself. With Ky off the radar, Ali was waiting in the on-deck circle.

“Condom fail.”

“Huh? Don’t mumble, Ry. Quantum trail? What the hell is that?”

“Condom, Ali. Shit. You want me to yell it? Condom. Con-dom f-a-i-l.”

She sat back in stunned silence. “Are you sure?”

“No. I’m making it up. Of course, I’m sure. It’s my fucking job to be sure.”

“Ryan.”

“And I’m completely in love with her. Yes, after only a week,” he added when she gave him a look. “She’s fantastic, sis. Samantha’s not stuck-up or full of shit, and after seeing her and Andi together, it’s obvious she’s an amazing friend. That stuff counts in the long run.”

“Is she in love with you?”

He gritted his teeth. Ryan knew that by admitting the condom fail, he was exposing Samantha to some unjust criticism. He didn’t want the timing of their sexploits to look like she slept around. He knew better.

“We each sorta swept the other off their feet, if you know what I mean. She’s as shocked as I am by what happened.”

They sat in silence. He watched clouds drift past out the window. It was a lot for him to say and a lot for her to take in.

“What does she do?” Ali asked.

“These are her words, not mine, okay? She’d answer by saying she has a job, not a career, and the j-o-b is nothing but a funding stream. Hollywood was a knee-jerk fuck off to an old boyfriend, and I have it on good authority that she’s rather sick of the place.”

Ali’s whole face lifted in surprise. “On good authority? Good lord, Ry. Insider information?”

“Hey,” he snapped. “I didn’t go snooping. Kyle offered up what he knew. And I didn’t use the leverage, if that’s what you’re thinking. No harm, no foul.”

She gave him such a serious look that he flinched and went as still as possible.

“If I were you,” she said in a no-nonsense voice, “I would confess what you know at the first opportunity.”

He looked at her skeptically. What the hell good would that do?

Ali huffed an exasperated sigh and leaned in close. “Ryan. My god. Use your fucking head, little brother. It won’t matter that you say you didn’t act on the information. Not if she’s pregnant. Your actions will be suspect. And if she’s not? If she finds out later, you stand a good chance of resentment down the line for not giving her the space to make her own decisions. Women don’t like that shit. Trust me.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“Well, do. Think of it that way, I mean. Maybe spend some of this time considering what it’s like from her point of view. Who carries the load in a pregnancy? Imagine what it’s like, Ry. To be living your life one minute and then wham. Reality check. Nine months of physical challenges followed by a lifetime of responsibility.”

She had a good point.

“And even if she isn’t knocked up, it’s always the woman who sacrifices. The one to compromise. Interfering in any way with what Sam thinks is in her best interest to satisfy your needs is just plain fucked up. She’ll always wonder. Always have that question in the back of her mind. Is that what you want?”

“Kyle should tell her. It was him, after all. Let Ky take the flak.”

“How long are they gone?”

He did a quick review of what he knew of the honeymoon itinerary before answering.

“One week in Paris for Andi. One week in Scotland—golfing—for Kyle. And one week in New York City for shits and giggles.”

“Can you wait three weeks?”

He saw the scene flash in his mind.

‘Kyle told me you were looking for an out.’

‘Are you saying I think you’re an out?’

He shuddered, imagining her outrage.

But if he waited, Kyle would be the one confessing, and he could claim good guy status by pointing out he didn’t try to manipulate her.

“In all honesty, Ali, the relationship is so new that the next couple of weeks are going to be challenging enough without adding more. She fucking started to cry at her gate.”

He shook his head and closed his eyes to block out the memory.

“Now, you’ve done it,” she chided. “Dammit, Ry. I envy you, ya little shit. I can write about romance till a Mars landing happens but getting a date?
Pfft!
”

This was an aspect of his sister’s life that baffled him. She wasn’t kidding. Men avoided her. She was beautiful, rich as all get-out courtesy of a string of bestsellers, and one of the smartest, most giving humans he’d ever known.

It was a rare moment of sibling closeness when Ali wrapped an arm around his and put her head on his shoulder. “I’m withering on the vine, and you’re staring into a long-distance abyss. Mom tries to keep her grandmother voodoo under wraps, but I think she’s knitting baby blankets under a full moon.”

They both laughed, and Ryan knew he was going to be sketching what Ali described. Because it was funny. And probably true.

“What about your pilot? Aren’t you and him knocking boots?”

Ali shrugged. “Yes and no. More no than yes. Turns out he’s got a wife. Not quite an ex, they’re separated, but the shoe still fits. Where are the nice, normal guys? What do they do? Hide?”

“You are your own worst enemy, sis. Keep telling you. Brutus wants your number. He finds a way to ask about you every damn time I talk to him.”

“Oh, for god’s sake, Ry. His name is Burke, not Brutus, and you should at least pretend to know the names of your employees.”

He smiled to himself. Burke Dancy was a hardcore badass, corporate style. In his mid-forties, the guy presented during a net-casting interview with no portfolio, no training to speak of, and no previous experience. He hired the man on the spot by gut instinct, and it was one of his best decisions. Burke not only blew Ryan out of the water with his natural talent and skills, but after he got to know him a little bit, things also got real interesting.

He’d made a pile of cash on Wall Street, managing to crash and burn his marriage along the way. It took losing his wife and kids for the single-minded financial big-wig to wake up and smell the coffee. Reinventing his entire life the way only an artist-at-heart could, he walked away from the rat race, sold everything, and moved to Florida for no reason other than it was far from New York.

The dude also had mad design skills and a vision Ryan found impressive. But for some reason, Ali wouldn’t give the guy a second look.

“I’m just saying,” he murmured.

“I know.”

They stay closely curled for several minutes before it started to get weird. He patted her hand and said, “Thanks.”

“You’re my brother, Ry. Still an annoying piss-ant crybaby but that’s what makes you cute.”

“Fuck off.” He gave her a brotherly shove as he laughed and put some space between them.

She chuckled, swatted him a few times, and then all of a sudden got real serious. “Hey. I almost forgot. What the hell is with that Tara chick? Mom says she’s got some stalkerish vibe going on where you’re concerned.”

Crossing his heart, he drawled, “My fingerprints are nowhere near that situation and trust me, Ali, if she ends up on
Maury
, the reveal will not involve me.”

“Thank god ‘cause, seriously, Hannah was having a bit of a freak-out. Especially after you all but peed a line around Sam to mark your territory.”

“Yeah, I know. About the line peeing thing. All good, though, ‘cause she gave Samantha an enthusiastic endorsement.”

“She wants grandbabies.” Ali snickered.

The soundtrack in his head provided the fail music from
The Price is Right
. His mom might end up getting the surprise of her life. Him too.

As if on cue, a barrage of laughter came from the rear of the cabin where a rather raucous card game seemed to be concluding.

“And on that wake-up call of an observation, I’m going to go cause some mayhem. Aunt Mel and that hula girl t-shirt with the clamshell bra is just begging for a ribbing. I can’t believe Uncle Burt let her wear it.”

Ali burst out laughing. “Let her?” She gave him a good-natured back slap when they both stood up, and he let her go first. “Boy, Sam has her work cut out with you. Neanderthal much?”

She wasn’t wrong. He knew less than nothing about women beyond the bedroom. Time for him to get a grip if he hoped to make a future with Samantha.

T
hree Weeks in Hell
, starring Samantha Evers.

She crossed out the end and heavily underlined the word hell. Pushing the pad of paper aside, Sam let out a growl, a groan, and a sigh all mashed up into one ugly sound.

“I’m so screwed,” she mumbled out loud.

Afflicted with a roaring need for mindless activity, she got up from her tiny kitchen table, grabbed a wad of paper towels and a container of spray, and concentrated on wiping down the already immaculately clean counters.

Keeping busy was her best bet right now because too much time for thinking only made her crazier.

At first, she threw herself into her job as a way of dealing with the messiness of her emotions. And it worked. . .for exactly four days. On the fifth day, after wrapping up another week of work, she stopped at HR to pick up her paycheck and was given a typed note on formal letterhead informing her that the company was going in a new direction and her services would no longer be required. The paycheck she got included a generous severance payment, and that was it. No, thank you. No in-person exit interview. Nothing.

It was hard to be shocked because she’d seen it coming. But still. When the reality set in many hours later, she’d brushed off the inconvenient firing and immediately gotten busy hunting for a new job. Two weeks had gone by since, and all she’d managed was a couple of quick freelance gigs off Craigslist.

Things were looking pretty dismal in the job market, and if that wasn’t enough of a kick in the head, this morning she’d found a note in her mailbox—a form letter that the whole building got—informing tenants of a significant rent increase about to go into effect.