Better Than Chocolate (Sweet Somethings Book 1) (13 page)

Who asked him to step in? Why does he think he needs to, or even can?

Josh, of course, recognizes the male challenge. “I didn’t realize you were her bodyguard. Guess I should’ve figured it out when you wouldn’t let anyone else dance with her.”

I ease forward. “Guys, knock it off.”

Ryan sidesteps in front of me. “We’re about to dock. Bride and groom are getting ready to disembark. Aren’t you supposed to be the best man?”

“She’s the maid of honor.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to hit on her.”

I cover my face with both hands and release an exasperated groan, but both of them ignore me. Peering through my fingers, I take in Ryan’s stance. He stands with his feet planted, his shoulders angled forward as if ready to charge.

“I think you’d better get ready to disembark.” His right hand curls into a fist.

Josh notices the fist, too, and with a last apologetic glance my way, he spins and jogs toward the main deck.

In disbelief, I stare at Ryan, my hands still over my cheeks and mouth. The only time I’ve ever seen him act even remotely like this was the day we met. The day he tackled Sadie’s ex-boyfriend at the end of our freshman year. I always attributed it to a sense of protectiveness, that he saw someone in a dangerous situation and needed to help. But I never felt it directed at me before.

I take a few careful steps around him, my stomach churning with confusion and unease.

He relaxes a little when I come into his line of sight. “Sorry. I just―”

My hands drop as my temper spikes. “What the hell is wrong with you, Ryan?”

The horn blasts again, the yacht shuddering as it docks. Without waiting for an answer, I turn, almost twisting my ankle in my haste to get away on high heels. Just before I reach the gangplank and Sadie’s side, I manage to plaster a bright smile on my face. Gluing it in place takes all my focus while she and Nelson thank the guests marching down to shore. Josh stands at the bottom of the gangplank, helping people with the last uneven step onto the dock. I wish I could leap off the other side of the yacht, especially once I spy Ryan lurking in the shadows near the stern.

Sadie turns to me, wrapping me in a huge hug. “Don’t forget about the after-party!”

“Okay, but I . . .”

Trailing off, I watch the newlyweds disembark, then follow glumly behind, each step agony as my feet finally register the raw spots created by my sandals. Josh takes his leave before I reach the dock, and I stumble ashore alone.

Chapter 15

The Whole Story

At the bottom of the gangplank, I watch the rest of the wedding guests filter back to the resort. High bursts of laughter echo over the foaming rush of breakers on the beach a few yards away. Meanwhile, tears of frustration and confusion knot behind my eyes.

“Carmella, wait a minute!”

At the sound of Ryan’s voice, my spine stiffens, and despite the burn in my feet, I hurry away as fast as my blistered toes will carry me along the uneven walkway. He thunders down the gangplank, and his long stride catches him up before I can think of a way to escape.

Falling into step beside me, he shoves his hands into his pockets and peers at my face. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not.” Two swipes with the back of my hand erase the evidence from my cheeks. I wish one of those all-too-common tropical thunderstorms had blown in. If not for the brilliant moonlight, he would never have seen my tears.

His fingers brush the inside of my elbow, then gently tighten on my arm as I stop. “Carmella.”

“My feet hurt.”

“Bullshit.”

He turns me to face him, but I can’t meet his eyes. My face feels hot. When his hand drops away from my arm, I shiver from the loss of contact. If only he didn’t look so handsome right now, his brown hair windswept from standing on the deck of the yacht, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows like they were that night in San Juan. The night we walked on the beach and he asked me to stay in Puerto Rico instead of going to St. Croix.

“I thought it was a nice wedding.” My voice shakes. “Considering everything.”

His eyebrows lower in a frown. “I guess so, as far as weddings are concerned. I think Sadie will be happy, at least.”

My nails bite into my palms. “Ryan―”

We both jump when the yacht releases a final blast from its horn and pulls away from the dock. I glance toward the resort, my heart pounding at how deserted everything has become. It’s just the two of us now.

Swallowing, I turn back to him, nervous energy pooling in the pit of my stomach. He stares at me, waiting.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur.

“For what?” His lips quirk into a half-grin. “You always apologize for stuff that’s not your fault.”

But it feels like it is my fault, at least in part. If I’d called him right after I found out about Sadie and Nelson, maybe things would have turned out differently. We wouldn’t have ended up together on that plane, never would have spent that day banging around San Juan, having dinner, and walking on that stupid beach in the moonlight. All those weird, warm tingles I’ve been having every time he looks at me would never have started.

“I’m sorry you were too late.”

“Too late for what?”

“To . . . To stop Sadie from getting married. Isn’t that why you came? When you showed up at the rehearsal dinner last night, I was sure―”

“I never wanted to keep Sadie from getting married,” he interrupts. “I told you before, I want her to be happy. And she wasn’t with me.”

Shaking my head, I start down the walkway again. “Then why?”

Ryan follows in calm pursuit. “Even you can’t be that oblivious.”

My steps quicken. No, I’m not that oblivious. Other than the brief moments when he wished Sadie the best, he’s been glued to my side. He almost punched Josh out just for making a pass at me. He’s been acting like a big, overprotective bear.

“I didn’t need you to step in,” I blurt, stumbling as my heel snags a rock.

“What are you talking about?”

He reaches out one hand to steady me, but I shy away. I know I had a bit more to drink tonight than normal for a special occasion, but I can’t attribute all my mental confusion to alcohol. I’ve been off-kilter since he got here.

Hell, I’ve been off-kilter since I sat down next to him on that flight.

“With Josh. The best man. I had it under control.”

He frowns. “It didn’t look like it to me.”

I shake my head, ignoring the doubtful tone in his voice. “And I thought you got it, that Sadie’s my best friend. I want her to be happy, too. But you knew how worried I was, that I thought she was making a mistake by running away from you. If you didn’t come here to try and fix this, or at least stop her from making a mistake, then why?”

He catches my arm when I trip again, keeping me from landing face-first on the walkway. I grab his shoulders to steady myself, and the heat in my cheeks reaches astronomical levels as I realize the lack of space between us. The heels of my sandals put me a lot closer to eye level with him, and even in the relatively dim light, the determined expression on his face is clear. Along with a degree of pent-up frustration.

“I came for two reasons.” His semi-sweet chocolate gaze searches mine. “First reason—yes, I was worried about Sadie, just like you were. But once I saw she’d be fine, it freed me up to do something about the second reason.”

My lungs won’t work. “Which is?”

“To go after what I’ve really wanted for the past nine years.”

Before I can respond, can even think, his hands frame my face, tipping my head back. I manage a sharp inhalation in the instant before his lips meet mine, and then everything else swirls away. His fingers tangle in my hair, slide gently against my throat as he eases me back against the low stone wall at the side of the walkway. I brace there, trapped, pulled flush against him. Somewhere, in the dim recesses of reality, I realize I’ve wrapped my arms around his neck and am kissing him, too.

And for a moment, in that heady rush, I don’t care.

But rationality shoves its way back to the forefront. Aware of how much I’m trembling, how weak my knees feel, I pull back and flatten one hand on his chest. “Wait.”

His heart hammers against my palm. “Carmella . . .”

“We’ve both had a lot to drink tonight, and we’re letting our emotions run away with us.”

At my back, his fingers curl into the chiffon of my dress. “I’m not doing this because I’m drunk. Which I’m not, by the way, and neither are you. And for the first time in a long time, I’m in control of what I feel. What I get to do about it.”

“But you can’t just―”

He stops my protest with another kiss, this one more searing than the first. By the time he breaks away, I’m breathless, reeling. If I don’t hold onto him, I’ll crumple to the ground like the damsel-in-distress in a bad movie.

“Carmella, listen to me.”

Less than an inch away, his breath wisps against my swollen, sensitized lips. Strange little hitches catch in my throat, and I want to close that gap, feel his lips on mine again.

“It’s you. I’ve loved you since the minute I met you.”

How can a person feel burning hot and freezing cold at the same time? My legs are unsteady, but I manage to push him away and put a couple feet between us. Thoughts whirling, I side-step until the path to the hotel is clear at my back.

My hand raised to keep him away, I struggle to get a grip on myself. “Nine years.”

He nods, the shadow of his jaw shifting.

“But you started dating Sadie six years ago.”

“Yes, I did.” He grinds out the admission, shoving his fists into his pockets again.

I lower my hand. “So . . . the whole time?”

He nods again, and the regret on his face is unmistakable.

Defensive anger flares, and my fingers curl into my palms. “Why are you telling me this now? How could you do this to Sadie? To me? She’s my best friend! And all this time, when I thought you two were happy, I was what broke you up?”

“It’s not―”

“You put me in the middle!” Tears form again. “She’s my best friend, and I’d do anything for her. And I thought you were my friend, too. But the whole time . . . the whole time! You proposed to her, you were gonna get married, for God’s sake. And the whole time you were in love with me. She said you weren’t cheating, but . . .”

Carmella, you idiot
.

“Sadie knew, didn’t she?”

He steps toward me, hands lifted in supplication. Before he gets too close, I slap him across the face. He freezes, lowers his hands, and stares at me.

Now it has turned into a bad movie.

“How dare you tell me now?” Sobs rise in my throat. “How dare you come here and tell me this, and kiss me―”

“I’m pretty sure you kissed me back.”

I choke on my retort, blinded by tears and furious because he’s right. Unable to respond, I shove him away and spin around, hurrying back to the resort as fast as possible.

I can barely see as I barrel through the lobby doors, intent on reaching the elevator and then my room in short order. The wedding guests mingle near the lounge, glasses in hand as they continue to celebrate the Mattinglys’ nuptials. Even through my blurred vision, I pick Sadie out of the crowd.

She sees me, too, and for a moment she perks up, like she’s about to wave and call me over. But when our eyes meet, her smile fades. Furious embarrassment rushes into my face, and my expression crumples. Sadie starts weaving through the crowd toward me, but I call retreat before she breaks free. She’s only halfway across the lobby, calling my name, when the elevator doors slide shut.

I sag against the rear wall and cover my face.

She knows. She’s always known. Even though I’ve always tried to be the best friend I could be to her, at the end of the day I was the other woman. The one who kept her and Ryan apart, derailed any chance they had to make their relationship work.

The corridor is deserted when I step off the elevator, and as soon as I slip into my room, I start removing all evidence that I was a member of the wedding.

Shoes.

Gorgeous, one of a kind, made-for-me dress.

White hibiscus and hair pins.

Sobbing and leaving a trail of clothing behind me, I step into a steaming hot shower, viciously scrubbing the makeup from my face and the styling products from my hair. By the time I emerge, my skin is red and raw, just like the guilt aching in my heart.

After donning my pajamas and towel-drying my hair, I absently gather my maid of honor accoutrements and put them away. Sniffs and hitching breaths continue as I pace the room.

Sadie will never speak to me again. I don’t think I can ever speak to Ryan again.

How did this happen?

The conversation I had with MaMére flashes into my mind. “The devil be sure to find you if you let him in,” I murmur.

When did I let the devil in? When I sat down next to Ryan on that plane? Spent a day with him, pretending it was like old times when it definitely wasn’t? That walk on the beach in Puerto Rico? Was he going to tell me then that he loves me?

Or maybe it’s the situation with Sadie. She admitted to putting me on the same flight as Ryan. Nelson has money and connections. They could’ve gotten me a direct flight from Atlanta or Savannah, even if tickets were scarce. Did she want me to run into Ryan because she knew how he felt?

Was she testing me, or testing herself?

I need to talk to someone.

It’s too late to call my mother. She’d just say,
I told you so
.

MaMére would be asleep by now, too.

Tess? I’m not sure I’m ready to spill this to her quite yet.

With a moan, I flop face-first across the bed, squeezing my eyes shut so I don’t burst into tears again.

Someone knocks on the door and I lift my head. There are only a handful of people who would come looking for me right now. And none of them are people I want to face. The knock sounds again, so I slip to the door and peer through the peephole.

Sadie.

I rest my forehead against the door.

She knocks one more time. “Carmella? Honey, if you’re there, please let me in.”

Moment of truth. She doesn’t sound angry, just worried. Earlier, I told Josh her best quality is her loyalty to the people she cares about. If she hasn’t ranted and raved yet, chances are she won’t.

Gathering my courage, I open the door.

The concern on her face deepens when she sees me. “Oh, honey.”

“You must hate me,” I whisper, clutching the doorknob.

She sweeps into the room, catching me around the shoulders on the way, and leads me to the chair near the balcony door. “Why would I ever hate you?”

“Because of Ryan.” I plop into the chair. “Because . . . you know.”

“He finally told you?” Shaking her head, Sadie drags the coffee table toward me and sits on the edge, hands clasped on her lap. “Carmella, I’m going to explain this to you one time, and then the conversation is over.”

Here it comes. My fingers clench on the arms of the chair.

She grabs my hands, holding them between us. “Yes. I’ve always known that Ryan loved you. He loved me, too, but you were first.”

I pull my hands free and scoot to the edge of the chair. “But he never said or did anything.”

“He sure as hell did, honey. Don’t you remember the day we met him?”

“Of course.” I rub my hands over my face. “He tackled your moronic ex-boyfriend to the ground when he tried to attack you.”

“Definitely not Captain Obvious.” A half-grin appears. “Carmella, Ryan tackled that jerk because he shoved you into a bush.”

I frown. “That’s not what happened.”

“He was in motion the minute that guy put his hands on you.”

The memory isn’t fresh enough, but I have to admit falling backward into an azalea bush doesn’t provide the clearest view of events. I always assumed Ryan was stepping in to save Sadie.

“But that doesn’t mean . . . Why didn’t he say anything? He never asked me out, or even indicated he was interested.”

“Too shy at first, maybe? Or maybe he was unsure.” She rests her elbows on her knees and leans forward. “He dropped lots of hints. He was always hugging you, giving you hand massages, walking you places at night so you wouldn’t be alone.”

I shake my head. “That’s just Ryan.”