I was a married man. I’d married the woman I’d loved since we were eight years old.
Then why was my mood so damn grim? I splashed some more cold water onto my face at the sink of one of the many first floor bathrooms inside the house I’d grown up in. Outside, the reception was well under way. I could hear music and celebration spilling across the estate. Why did I feel like I’d soaked my world in kerosene and was about to drop a match?
The wedding had gone fast. Too fast. It felt like five minutes after I’d slipped into Jacob’s tux, Cora and I were being announced as husband and wife. If she suspected anything, she hadn’t shown it. She’d just said her vows, slipped a ring on my finger, and we’d exchanged an innocent kiss that didn’t make me feel innocent things.
I could still feel her lips on mine, the warmth of them seeping into mine, the slightest hint of mint on her breath. After nearly two decades of fanaticizing about kissing her, I finally had. At her and my brother’s wedding. How was that for a story to one day tell the grandkids?
Provided I had any since, yeah, Cora. I’d been so hung up on her, I’d gone on a pathetic handful of dates in my twenty-seven years, and after that kiss . . . fuck, I knew I’d spend the future just as hung up on her.
After drying off my face, I pulled my phone out of my pocket to try calling Jacob again. I’d been sneaking off to the bathroom all night to try to get a hold of him, and this call, like the ones before, ended in the same result. No answer. I was starting to worry. My brother had always drunk more than he should have, which had gotten him into plenty of shady situations.
Usually those situations involved waking up next to some woman whose name he didn’t know, but it was past six o’clock. His drunken stupor from last night should have worn off by now, along with the hangover, leaving enough room in his head for realization to hit that, holy shit, today was his wedding day.
Either Jacob hadn’t hit pause on whatever party he’d disappeared to last night, or something bad had happened. And I would feel like a real prick if I’d spent the afternoon marrying his fiancée and dancing with her and touching her if he was in some ditch in need of help.
I was just looking up the numbers to some of the local hospitals to see if a Jacob Adams had been admitted when a pounding sounded on the door.
“The ol’ ball and chain’s looking for you, Adams.” Some muffled laughter and more pounding. “That didn’t take long. Hopefully she doesn’t start sporting mom jeans and cancelling her waxing appointments. Make sure she doesn’t let herself go just because she’s landed you.”
More laughter, followed by a few more comments that had me gripping the edge of the sink. That these friends thought it was okay to say what they did to Jacob about Cora made me see red.
Growing up, I’d heard plenty of lewd locker-room talk about Cora. Most of it derived from the fact that she was pretty much every straight guy’s type—though no one could seem to get through to her—but some of it was said because she didn’t come from our world. The world of the supposed “elite,” where money decided how important you were and were not.
Cora’s mom became our nanny after our mom died since Dad knew his way around kids as much as he did a kitchen. Mrs. Matthews was our nanny from the time Jacob and I were eight to the time she lost her fight with breast cancer seven years later. Her daughter, Cora, had grown up right along with us, from sitting at the breakfast table every morning to roaming our school halls.
Even though our dad paid for her to go to the same private schools Jacob and I did, everyone knew she was the daughter of the “hired help.” They treated her as less than, and the boys talked about her and viewed her in ways they didn’t the girls who came from “good” families.
After she and Jacob finally made their relationship official after graduation, some of the stigma and comments eased off of her, but only some. Here we all were, years later, and the same douchebags from high school were talking about her like she was an inanimate object they could use for their every whim and pleasure.
“Adams, open up already. I need to take a piss and the other bathrooms are occu-piedo.” That was Hunter. Drunk Hunter. I’d had just as much experience with drunk Hunter as I had sober Hunter.
When I threw open the door, I fought the urge, as I had hundreds of times before, to wrap my hands around all of their necks. “Cora’s my wife, shithead. Show a little respect before I force it out of you.”
Okay, not exactly strangling. But not exactly ignoring and moving on.
Hunter grinned like I was making a joke and smacked Preston on the back. “Oh, believe me, man, I respect your wife. Serious, serious respect for a creature that fine.”
More laughter. The stench coming off of them was staggering. The reception had only been going for a couple of hours, but they smelled like they’d taken a bath in whiskey.
Biting my tongue, I shoved through my groomsmen. Aaron was holding out a flask for me, but I ignored it. I’d already had a couple glasses of champagne during dinner and the toasts, and my head was feeling fuzzy. Probably more from the situation I’d put myself in than from the alcohol, but still, I was a smarter man than my brother when it came to knowing alcohol limits.
“Dude, talk about cutting it close today with Tits McGee from last night.” Preston rung his arm behind my neck as Hunter started taking a piss in the bathroom without closing the door. “You really milked the last moments of your bachelorhood dry.”
Hunter staggered in front of the toilet and had to brace himself against the wall. “You’re an example for us all, Adams.”
My feet froze to the tile. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Last night. That chick you hooked up with at the last club we crawled our drunk asses into.” Hunter zipped himself back up and staggered out of the bathroom. “When you weren’t at the church when you were supposed to be, I figured you must have changed your mind about matrimony.”
“I was with another woman last night?” My throat was burning, because I knew it was true. Jacob wasn’t in trouble somewhere, in need of my help. Jacob was drunk off his ass, getting a piece of ass that didn’t belong to the woman he’d promised to marry.
If he were standing in front of me right now, I would have killed him. Or I would have come close.
“How wasted were you?” Preston whacked my back a few times, shaking his head. “Yes, you left with a woman last night. You said not to tell anyone and that you’d see us at the wedding today.”
Outside, I could just make out Cora scanning the party like she was looking for someone. I guessed that someone was me, her husband who’d spent the last fifteen minutes splashing cold water on his face and being reminded of why his brother was so undeserving of the woman who’d promised to be forever faithful to him today.
“Why don’t you guys do me a favor and just high-five each other in the face with a chair?” I lifted my middle finger at them as I headed outside. “I’ve got a honeymoon to get to.”
They went with their typical response to everything—laughter. As much as I despised them, they’d been useful for one thing. Now I knew. Jacob was fine. He’d missed his wedding because he’d been drunk-fucking some other woman and I wasn’t going to waste another minute worrying about him.
He had some serious explaining to do whenever he surfaced. He wasn’t the only one. That sent me reaching for another glass of champagne as I headed toward Cora. He’d messed up. So had I.
Would it have been better to just be honest and let her find out what kind of person Jacob really was? Would heartbreak and humiliation have been better than this—marrying the wrong guy as a stand-in for another wrong guy? God, did two wrongs make a right?
My head was spinning, so I drained the champagne in one drink.
“There you are.” She reached for me as soon as she saw me coming.
Setting the empty glass on a table, I wound my hand around hers.
“I was starting to worry you were a runaway groom.” She was smiling, making a joke, but she had no idea the truth of it.
My fingers tied through hers, and I pulled her closer. My other hand easily found its way around her waist, as if I’d done it a million times before. The reality was entirely different from my fantasy though.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “Now, dance with me one more time before I drag you out of here.”
Her arms wound around me, her hands tying behind my neck. I’d never felt anything as perfect as having Cora’s body pressed against mine, her arms holding me close.
“Someone a little excited for the honeymoon?” The little uptick in her voice toward the end alluded to what she was getting at.
And shit. I was getting hard. Hearing her hint, imagining her body pinned below mine . . .
She must have felt it, because she pressed a little closer, lifting her mouth to my ear. “Now you’ve got me all excited too.”
My body trembled against hers while I clamped my eyes closed and tried to erase the image of me moving above her from my mind. She was Jacob’s, I reminded myself. No matter the mistakes he’d made or how he’d betrayed her, when she touched me and whispered things into my ear, she was talking to Jacob. Not me.
“Come on.” Her lips brushed the side of my neck. “Let’s get out of here.”
When her face came around in front of mine again, there was something in her eyes. It almost looked like confusion, but it passed a moment later.
Might have had something to do with the cologne I wore not being anything like the one Jacob did.
Taking her hand, I steered us through a crowd of people who were intent upon slowing us down to shower us with more congratulations and marital advice. I wasn’t sure how never going to bed angry was supposed to be the end-all for a successful marriage, but what the hell did I know?
We’d almost made it inside when I felt a hand clamp over my shoulder. It was a familiar hand touching me in an unfamiliar way. Like I was the golden child. Instead of the tarnished one.
“Hell of a night, son. I’m happy for you.” Dad had a tumbler of scotch in his other hand, looking at me like I was everything he could ever hope for in a son. “I’m happy for you both.” He leaned in to give Cora a quick peck on the cheek, and she responded with a hug.
My dad had never been overly warm with Cora despite the years she’d spent under his roof, but he’d never been cold either. He’d held her at a careful distance, kind of like the way he held me.
Jacob was the only one allowed past that arm’s length distance.
“Thanks, Dad,” I said. “This was one hell of a day for sure.”
He gave my shoulder one more squeeze before tipping his head inside the house. “Now get out of here and enjoy your honeymoon.”
Cora smiled, the faintest color bleeding into her cheeks. “Thank you for such a nice wedding, Mr. Adams.”
Dad lifted his drink. “Thank you for taking such good care of my son.”
He’d disappeared into the crowd by the time we stepped inside. Dad owned a big commercial real estate company and knew, or was known by, most everyone in Miami’s upper circle. That was the reason for the garishly large wedding. I knew Cora would have preferred to keep it a small, quiet affair. Like myself, she didn’t know most of the people out there toasting to her marriage and happiness. Jacob might have since he and my dad worked together, but he’d gone and missed his own wedding, so most of those guests were here because of my dad —and for the imposter Jacob Adams.
“You have everything packed and ready?” I asked, tugging on the bowtie that had been strangling me like a noose all day.
Cora nodded, climbing the stairs with me, her hand secured in mine. “All I need to do is change and we’re out of here.”
I still didn’t know what I was about to do. Jacob was still missing, and he was supposed to head to an airport and jump on a plane with his wife to go on their ten day honeymoon on St. Thomas. If I told her now what I’d done, she’d be pissed. Like, throw me over the bannister before firing her heels at my smashed body pissed. Cora might have been an angel most of the time, but don’t get in her way when she’s upset. I knew from personal experience.
But I couldn’t just go on her honeymoon and hope she wouldn’t figure out what I’d done and who I was. I couldn’t just share her honeymoon—and all that came with such an important event—with her. If I did, it wouldn’t just be Cora who would kill me once everything came to light—Jacob would too. I’d kill him if our roles had been reversed.
God, it was an impossible situation, and I was starting to doubt my whole plan to act as stand-in groom earlier. I was in too deep to ’fess up now. Admitting the truth would ruin this whole day more than it probably would have been ruined if I’d just told her earlier that Jacob had left her standing at the altar.
“Could you help with my zipper?” Cora paused outside the door of the guest room she must have been staying in, sliding her hair over her shoulder and turning her back to me.
My fingers forgot how to move.
“Jacob?” Her head titled over her shoulder, waiting.
Nothing like hearing her say his name the way I’d always dreamed of hearing her speak mine to break me out of my temporary stupor.
“Yeah, sure.” I cleared my throat and focused on the zipper. Instead of what was behind the zipper. And how warm and soft and . . . focus. “No problem.”
Once I’d lowered the zipper to the middle of her back, I stopped. There was no way I was lowering it any farther because I wasn’t sure I could restrain myself if I did. I didn’t trust myself.
Cora gave me an amused look when she felt how far, or not far, I’d taken her zipper. “You’re not getting all chaste on me now that we’re married, are you?”
I answered her with a tipped smile, like I guessed Jacob would have, trying to ignore the ache tempting me to shove her up against the wall and prove to her just how not chaste I felt right now.
It seemed to satisfy her. “Good. Because I packed the wrong lingerie if that’s the kind of honeymoon you had in mind.” She left me with a smile that suggested everything I was already imagining, stepping inside the room and closing the door.
My head fell into the wall. Great. Just fucking great.
Cora was presently getting naked inside that room, one closed door away, ready to leave on her honeymoon with me and a suitcase full of filthy lingerie. I wasn’t sure if I was in some kind of temporary heaven or an eternal purgatory, but I was trapped somewhere between a dream and a nightmare.
How could my brother not see what he had? How could he feel anything but unworthy and grateful for the woman who loved him and had just promised to spend forever with him? Did he think he could do better? Did he think anyone could do better than Cora Matthews?!
Realizing what my brother had and how he took her for granted flooded my veins with anger. Rage flooded my system until I found myself storming to Jacob’s old room, shoving inside it, and tearing out of his tux. His suitcases were already here and packed, no doubt thanks to Cora. His dress shirt, slacks, and shoes were all laid out, passports and reservation information neatly arranged on the nearby table.
He had it all. He had everything. He had her. And he treated it as though it were nothing. Like it was replaceable—a guarantee he could take for granted.
I didn’t realize I’d changed into the shirt and slacks until I was tying on the shoes. I still wasn’t sure what I was going to do or how I was going to tell her the truth, but I was done letting my head take the lead on this. It had gotten me into this whole mess, so I was turning over what came next in my gut. This felt right, so I was going with it.
Dressing in my brother’s clothes, grabbing my brother’s honeymoon information, and heading down the hallway with his suitcase in hand toward his wife’s room felt right. It wouldn’t have felt right if I’d let my head continue to steer me, but fuck that. This felt right in my core, deep inside, and I was going with it.
Cora opened her door right as I came to a stop outside it. She’d changed into a strapless white summer dress, which managed to take my lungs out of commission in the same way her wedding gown had earlier.
“You look . . .” I fumbled for the right word, running my eyes over her the way I was prohibiting my hands from doing.
“Jacob Adams speechless?” She did a little spin, making the hem of her dress float into the air. “I never thought I’d live to see the day.”
My arm wound around her waist, incapable of heeding my warnings to look and not touch. I pulled her toward me until her body was fitted as tight against mine as I could get it. “I can’t breathe around you, Cora.” My forehead creased when her mouth parted. “Let alone form words.”
She stared at me for a moment, then her hand molded around the side of my neck. “Thank you.”
“For what?” My eyes dropped to her mouth. Control yourself. Although I supposed it was a little late for that.
“You promised me that you’d work on some things if we got married.” She bit her lip. “And you have. Thank you for that.”
My heart broke a little more right then. Because she was wrong. Jacob hadn’t changed any—or maybe he had, but for the worse. She’d always held this blind faith in my brother, and it had been for nothing. Because he’d betrayed her. Again, and again, and now on their wedding day.
She was waiting. And I was a fool.
So I kissed her forehead and dropped my head beside hers. “You deserve more than ten times the man I am. The least I can do is make a few improvements to this unfit one.” After holding her close for one more moment, I wrangled both of our suitcases into my hands and followed her down the stairs.
“Should we say good-bye to everyone first or . . .” Cora looked hesitantly out at the back lawn swarmed with people.
“Or let’s get out of here before anyone sees us.”
I’d already pulled the front door open and was waiting for her. Cora didn’t like crowds or big affairs. That had been one of our few common bonds growing up. So when Jacob would sneak off to whatever party was the biggest and best that weekend, we’d hang behind and order cheese pizza and watch movies until we both passed out on the couch.
She beamed as she rushed through the door, taking light steps so her heels wouldn’t make any noise in the marble foyer. The house I’d grown up in was closer to the size of a hotel than the average house, and maybe that was why it had never felt like home. Nowhere had ever really felt like home actually, not even the condo I’d been in for several years.
The driver who had escorted us from the church back to the house for the reception was waiting out front to take us to the airport. When he saw us rushing away from the house, he folded up his newspaper and reached for one of the suitcases in my hands.
“Little excited for the honeymoon?” He gave me a knowing look as I tucked Cora’s bag into the trunk beside mine.
I answered with a reserved smile because, yes, had Cora been my actual wife and I was the husband she’d planned on marrying today, I would have thrown her over my shoulder and left as soon as the cake had been cut. But she wasn’t my actual wife and I wasn’t the husband she’d planned on marrying today so what was there to look forward to? Because I couldn’t . . . we couldn’t . . . I couldn’t let her . . . without confessing . . . fuck, I was in such a bad spot.
After I slid into the seat beside her, the driver closed the door.
“Buckle up,” she said, already winding the belt around my lap.
A better man might have taken the belt from her and clicked it into place himself. I think I’d already proven that I was not that better man.
“We’re in a limousine. Don’t think we need to worry about buckling up.”
She blew out a breath after she’d snapped the buckle into place. “And limousines can still get in accidents. I’d like my husband in good working order for our honeymoon, please.” Her hand dropped to my stomach as her voice dropped. “I’ve got plans for him.”
My head was already drowning from her words and her touch, but when her hand moved lower, curling around my . . .
“Cora!” I jolted, sounding like a pubescent boy. A moment later, after I’d sort of regained my senses, I glanced at her to find her giving me an odd look. Like she was confused.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .” Her head turned away, and she leaned back into her seat.
Tell her, Matt. Tell her now. Perfect segue.
“No, it’s fine.” It’s really fine. “You just surprised me. It’s been a long day, and I’m not feeling like myself.” I tried not to think too much on the irony of that sentence.
I found her hand and pulled it into my lap. More toward my knees than my package though, because damn, Cora’s touch was not something to underestimate. If she so much as brushed her hand around my general zipper region again, I would be in a predicament. An I-just-got-off-from-a-woman-barely-touching-me kind of predicament.
“Then make sure to get some rest on the flight.” When her eyes met mine, my stomach lurched. “It’s going to be a long night too.”
Saying nothing else, she dropped her head onto my shoulder, nudging at my arm until I got the hint. Folding my arm around her back, I drew her close, and I swore to god, if I could have just spent the rest of my life like that, I would have been a happy man.
She shifted against me, her expression hesitant. “Are you sure Matt’s okay? I feel awful that he got so sick today.”
I smiled into the dark limousine. She was thinking about me. She was with him but thinking about me. It made me wonder if that had ever happened before, and if so, how many times?
“Yeah, it was probably some bad sushi or something. You know how that guy is with his raw fish.”
Cora nodded against my shoulder. “He was okay when you guys went to bed last night, right? When you stayed at his place?”
There was just enough doubt in her voice for me to pick up on. She was questioning if Jacob had really stayed the night at my place. If he’d gone to bed like a good boy on the night of his wedding, or spent it partying like he tended to most Friday nights.
Tell her now. Another segue that’s as good as they’re going to get.
“Yeah, it wasn’t until this afternoon when he started losing his insides via his mouth.” I sighed to myself after. Every minute that went by made it harder to tell her.
“We should swing by, you know? Bring him some tea or soup or something.” She tipped her head so she was looking up at me.
My chest squeezed. She wasn’t just thinking about me, she wanted to do something for me. She wanted to do something nice for me on her wedding day. It was no wonder I’d had it so bad for Cora all of these years. No woman rivaled her. No woman ever could.
“Believe me, it would come right back up. And if we want to make our flight, we can’t waste another minute.” I checked my watch. We had plenty of time before our flight to make a quick stop, but there wouldn’t be a food-poisoned Matt to check on if we did stop.
“Then let’s call him.” Cora was already pulling her phone out of her purse.
“No!” I wrapped my hand around hers before she could dial my number. My phone was currently in my pants’ pocket and not silenced. “Let him rest. We’ll call him in the morning.” Yeah, brilliant. Delay the inevitable, because you haven’t already dug yourself a good and deep hole. “I’ve got his wedding present for us,” I said to shift the conversation. “He gave it to me earlier.”
When I pulled the silver bracelet from my pocket, Cora sat up, studying it carefully. “That was your mother’s.”
Her fingers touched the charms hanging from the bracelet, charms representing memories of all the places we’d traveled together before she died. From one of Mickey Mouse from the time she’d taken us to Disney World, to a spaceship from when we’d visited Cape Canaveral.
“Why would he give it to me instead of his wife one day?” she asked as I clasped it into place on her wrist.
That question was one of the few I could answer honestly. “Because he loves you.” I studied the bracelet on her wrist; it was a perfect fit. Then I glanced at the ring on her finger. I might have been the one who’d slid it into place there, but I wasn’t the one she wanted. I never had been. “You’re like the sister he never had and the wife he never will have.”
Her head shook against me. “He’ll find someone. I know it.” She exhaled, almost sounding sad. Was it pity? Or was it regret? I couldn’t be sure. “I can’t believe someone hasn’t snatched him up yet.”
I snorted, like I knew Jacob would have. “Matt?”
“Yes, Matt.” She blinked at me, one eyebrow raised. “Don’t pretend you don’t adore him. He’s a good man. You both are good men. I just want to see him happy like we are.”
Another break in my heart. It was a miracle there was still anything left to break after all of these years.
My arm tightened around her, my chin tucking over her head. “He is happy. I know it.”
He’d never been happier.
At least for the moment.