LUCAS
Aster looked like she’d been mugged by a hobo when she finally met up with us at the restaurant where we were holding our impromptu meeting. Of course, no way would I say that to her face. But her shirt was untucked and her normally tidy hair looked like she had a family of raccoons holing up in it.
She was already waving down the waitress as she handed me back the key to my place. “I spent the entire weekend going over the contracts,” she said, sliding the paperwork in front of me. “I even had an attorney friend look over it all. As far as I can tell, it was within her rights to cancel. The card was in her name. At this point, we’ve lost several deposits. Our only option is to start from scratch.”
It had been a long day for all of us. It was a Sunday, so a lot of the places were closed, but that hadn’t stopped us. We’d been making phone calls and driving from vendor to vendor, the ones who were open or who’d given us emergency contact numbers, to confirm who was still with us and who wasn’t. Against my better judgment, we’d even enlisted my cousin Raphael to help us out.
At last count, we’d lost the venue, the caterer, the florist, and even the pyrotechnics guy who’d planned a kickass fireworks display. Thankfully, despite my mother’s threats to “end his career,” she hadn’t managed to chase away our DJ.
Raph gave a distasteful sniff of the air where Aster had just settled down. “What’s up with you?” he asked. “You smell . . .”
She shot him a warning scowl, letting him know he was on thin ice. “I smell what?”
Taking the hint, he gave her his best Don Juan grin. “Incredible, as always. Of course.”
Aster huffed. But even she wasn’t immune when Raph turned up the charm, and she couldn’t help but give him a grudging smile.
I ignored them. I wasn’t in the mood for their flirtation tonight, if that’s what it even was. Raph was the kind of guy who bragged about his conquests the way boys in the locker room bragged about the size of their dicks. If we hadn’t gone to the same private schools—and changed in the same locker rooms—I’d be convinced he was overcompensating.
“I don’t want to say I told you so,” Aster lectured in her prim, tight-lipped way. “But . . . I tried to tell you this was a bad time to leave.”
I hated that know-it-all tone of hers. “You also said you could handle things,” I reminded, glaring at the stack of contracts in front of me, and then turning to Raph. “The solution seems simple enough. Just explain our situation to the manager of the country club and slip her some cash. They can refund the bride. Let her find another venue.”
“Trust me, I tried.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I pulled out all the stops.”
I didn’t even want to know what that meant.
When the waitress stopped at our table, Aster ordered an extra-dirty martini. Raph made some crack under his breath about the “extra-dirty” part, but Aster shot him down with a pointed stare. “I thought you said you had an in,” she pressed Raph.
Raph sighed, clearly tired of this line of questioning. “I do. I did. My in and I . . . we’re on the outs.”
“So what you’re saying is, you couldn’t keep your . . . ,” she lowered her gaze to his lap, “ . . . your you know what in your pants. You finked us?”
Refusing to give up, Raph leaned forward on his elbows. “You really are a dirty girl, aren’t you, baby?”
Aster’s face went white as a sheet as she pursed her lips.
I scrubbed my face with my hands. We needed to stay on track. “Fucking hell, Raph. I think what she means is, there’s no chance we’re getting this venue back?”
He gave me an innocent shrug. “Don’t blame me, it’s wedding season in LA—everything’s booked. The brides are circling venues for cancellations like sharks that smell blood. And I had no idea the lengths your mother would go to just because you invited Uncle Chuck.”
He wasn’t entirely wrong. She was pissed about my father—Mother was always pissed about something. But Raph and I hadn’t been close in a long time. It hadn’t only been my parents and Aster I’d pushed away when I’d decided I needed a new start. I couldn’t stand the sight of my cousin either, of everything he’d reminded me of . . . of all the time he and I had spent with Adam. “It’s not just that,” I confessed. “You know how she is. She can’t stand not being in control. When I quit working for your dad, she could no longer pull my strings through him. And now . . .” I nodded toward Aster who was carefully taking her martini from the waitress, trying not to spill a single drop. I lowered my voice. “Now . . .”
I didn’t want to come out and say it, but Aster wasn’t clueless. “I can hear you,” she said. “She’s mad because you thought you needed a break from me. She’s worried she’ll lose the Lancaster name.”
“Aster.” This wasn’t the time for another fight. Not now. But I also couldn’t leave the door open to keep having this same conversation. I couldn’t give her any hope for reconciliation. “It’s not a break.”
She waved her hand. “Whatever you call it. You wanted to ‘date’ around.” Jesus, the air quotes. I fucking hated the air quotes. When would she get it through her head that this wasn’t a phase? “If you hadn’t gone away with that girl this weekend, this whole mess would’ve been avoided.”
Raph burst out laughing. “Now who’s having a hard time keeping it in his pants?” he roared, slapping me on the shoulder.
But I was more concerned over what Aster had just revealed. “So she knew?” I asked. “Where I was? Who I was with?”
Aster stiffened, her glass partway to her lips. She looked like she was contemplating throwing it in my face. “To be honest, I have no idea where your mother thinks you were. She’s a resourceful woman. All I can say for certain is, I’m tired of lying for you.” She took a sip then, a delicate one, a very Aster-like one. She took another one before continuing, “I’m tired of playing the part of the devoted fiancée.” She . . . downed the rest of her drink in one long gulp and then gave me a pitiful look. “You know what, I’m just . . . so damned tired.”
She was right, enough was enough. I’d already relied on her too much when I’d up and left her to tend to the gala on her own. Adam was my brother. This was my event. Aster shouldn’t have to lie for me too. If I ever wanted to really get on with my life, my mother needed to know the truth.
“I’ll talk to her,” I told Aster. “I’ll go there in the morning and tell her everything.” I shrugged. “It’s not like she can do any more damage than she already has. Besides, I’m not doing either of you any favors by dragging this out.”
But Aster shook her head resolutely. “No, you won’t. I’ve done everything you asked. Everything. I’ve gone along with this whole farce, taking over the gala so you could have some ‘space.’” Air quotes. “I’ve lied to your mother, I’ve lied to my parents, and I’ve lied to myself.” She straightened up and leveled her gaze on me. “In fact, I got off the phone with your mother just this morning, after lying to her again, telling her everything was fine. That we were fine. So you will not go over there and call me out. You will keep pretending until the last donor’s check is cashed. Until then, and not a moment sooner, you and I are happily engaged, Lukey Dukey.” She looked at each of us calmly, almost daring one of us to argue. We didn’t. Neither of us had ever seen Aster so fired up before. “So?” she asked, waving down the waitress again. “Where are we then? What do we do next?”
I had no idea. As far as I was concerned, I might as well march over to mother’s house tomorrow and confess everything because there would be no donor check. Maybe that would be for the best. At least then we could all just get on with our lives.
As discreetly as possible, I checked my phone. Emerson’s flight had landed well over an hour ago. She was probably home by now. I’d be a complete prick if I asked Aster if she’d run into Em when she’d swung by my place—especially after the speech she’d just given me. But it was killing me not knowing if Em had made it home okay.
I should message her.
I should . . . but I wouldn’t.
We still had too much work to finish, and texting Em now would mean having to explain why I’d taken off in such a rush this morning.
I tried to convince myself we could really use her help. Especially now that my carefully constructed house of cards was collapsing around me.
But this thing with my mother, the lie about Aster and me . . . this was my mess, not Em’s.
Em knew how important this gala was to me—she’d understand why I had to come back. I’d explain all that when I had time to go into all the details. Not now, with Aster and Raph hovering.
Still, I missed her. Just thinking about last night, about Em’s long legs . . . about tasting her . . . made my zipper stretch. I needed to concentrate on the gala or I’d be making a pit stop to the restroom for a quick jerk-off session.
I’d swing by her place in the morning to bring her up to speed. Maybe even get down on my knees again.
Do a little begging. Promise to be a good boy.
A very, very, very good boy.