Candlelight flickered on the surface of the high, polished bar top. Tracing my fingers over the swirling pattern in the wood I was momentarily captured by the reflection of the chandelier, each of its glistening bulbs looking like little stars. The ornate bar of the Blue Blossom Bed-and-Breakfast in Lavender Shores was the genuine article. It wasn’t a reproduction like the Victorian bed-and-breakfast itself, but the real thing. I’d lost track of how many bars I’d sat at that were as old as this one, just as heavily carved, and whispered back to a century and a half before. Maybe that was why I’d finally left my home to drink in public. The heavily carved bar reminded me of my weeks in England. Those drunken, hazy weeks. Lonely still, but better than drinking at home alone. Again.

Something moved in front of those reflected stars, cutting off their glimmering light. I blinked, and though it was blurry, I realized the thing was my own face. Though I wasn’t sure if I was blurry because of the aged grain of the wood or the combination of gin and whiskey running through my veins. I tapped the fuzzy reflection on the nose, and leaned closer to whisper, “You’re a fucking fool, Epstein. A fucking fool.”

I giggled at my own voice, a bubbly yet dark sound.

Fucking fool.

The old Will Epstein had rarely cursed, he was above such things. Not that cursing was bad as far as the whole “burning soul in hell” kind of thing, but it was just tacky. Not anymore. I could say fuck whenever I wanted to. Besides, after all the actual fucking I’d done across the English countryside, and in the cities for that matter, actually saying the word didn’t seem to hold much scandal.

I leaned closer yet. “Thought you were such hot shit, didn’t you? Handsome, rich, intelligent.” Another giggle. “Now look at you. Pushing forty and the laughingstock of the entire fucking world.” I tapped his nose again. “And you’re drunk.”

Now there was a thought. Leaving my reflection to his own musings, I turned my attention to my glass of whiskey, and was pleasantly surprised to see that Seth had fulfilled my request for another martini. Perfect. A little sip of Nolet’s gin chased by a shot of Dalmore.

I started to thank him, but then realized he was at the other end of the bar, mixing a drink for a cute redhead and flirting shamelessly in pure Seth Marino fashion. Casting a quick scan over the fancy, romantically lit restaurant, I found it mostly empty. It was late, pushing closing time I was sure. The few patrons occupying the tables were paired off—couples leaning near one another, whispering and laughing. Doubtlessly about me.

The people were indistinct enough I couldn’t tell if they were actively looking and pointing in my direction or not, but regardless, they were whispering and laughing about me.

I couldn’t blame them. I’d have done the same.

With my left hand, I dug out my cell. With my right, I lifted the Dalmore, careful not to waste a drop. Knowing what my hand had in mind, I tipped the shot glass and downed the contents. It didn’t matter how many times I’d watched the clip, it required a stiff drink. Or twenty.

The whiskey burned down my throat as I hit the internet browser. It opened to the YouTube page as it always did. Stupid, really. I’d watched the clip countless times over the past three months, I had the thing memorized. No… I had the fucking thing memorized.

Whatever.

I tapped Play and reached for the shot glass only to find it empty. As the aerial shots of the wedding party filled the screen, I switched back to the martini.

My wedding had been live streamed. The culmination of the reality series Titan Love that followed my fiancé and me from proposal to wedding day.

Though I had the phone’s volume off, my mind played the soundtrack as clear as if I was living it for the first time all over again. Micah Bryant’s violin version of “At Last” sang out clear and pure over the ceremony while the cameras panned up my side of the wedding party, all clad in gold. My little sister, Erica, beautiful and looking as if she knew her face had been destined to be on television. My older brother, Nick, whose expression clearly stated that he wished he could be anywhere else. I knew how much it had cost him to come back to Lavender Shores, to take part in family events. How I hated that he’d done so out of love for me only to have had front row tickets to my humiliation. Then Seth, leaving his bar behind to play the handsome best man.

Then it cut away to the other side. To my fiancé’s side. Connor had been a last-minute stand-in for a runaway groomsman. It seemed like such a horrible thing to happen moments before the ceremony, for one of the groomsmen to literally flee from being seen on national television taking part in a gay wedding. How funny that moment would become, and apt. If only I had realized it was a not-so-subtle portent.

The camera left him and focused momentarily on Adrian Rivera. As always, my thumb tapped Pause, and I stared at the fucker. Truth be told, he was the only one of the wedding party who had pulled off the gold my parents had chosen for the wedding colors. It would’ve been so much easier if I could look at his smug little face and label him hideous and ugly, if his outsides matched the hideous troll that occupied his body. But he was living proof, with his glistening bronze skin, that all that glittered truly was not gold. As ever, I studied his dark eyes, trying to see the lies behind them, the plans he had—the plans they’d both had.

The fucker.

I tapped Play once more, and the recording moved on to Jasper, the ginger bookseller who’d nearly been my brother-in-law. I doubted he’d known what was going to happen, but who could say?

And then it was me. Maybe I couldn’t really pull off the gold necktie, but I looked beautiful. And happy. So fucking happy. Hell, I shone brighter than the gold itself.

Then Harrison. Also beautiful, more than beautiful. But unlike me, he didn’t shine, didn’t glow with happiness. The cameras had caught it, as surely as I had in that moment as we’d been about to exchange vows.

I had. I had seen it. I’d not understood it, but I’d seen it. That moment. I didn’t care that we were on national television, I didn’t care that it was live, all of that vanished with the dark shadow that played in Harrison’s sweet brown eyes. I could still feel that tingle of panic, of dread, even three months later. Fearing the answer, I’d mouthed, “You okay?”

Harrison nodded and relief had washed over me.

It was normal to have wedding day jitters, especially considering our wedding day, in front of the entire world. I tried to smile encouragingly, communicating the depth of my feelings for him. “Good. I love you.”

Though it wasn’t in the plan, nor scripted, Harrison leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I stiffened with surprise at the motion, but all dread completely faded then. It was just nerves, just a passing moment. Soon the wedding would be over and it would just be us. Though the studio had asked us for a honeymoon special, after Harrison clearly didn’t want to be followed by cameras anymore, I turned them down. I was going to surprise Harrison with the news that night, sweep us off to our honeymoon where it would only be us. Finally.

Harrison pulled back from the kiss slightly, and the look in his eyes brought all the fear back. His whisper hadn’t been loud enough to be picked up by the microphones, but even if the cameras hadn’t caught his lips moving, his words were etched on my heart. “I love you too. I’m sorry. But I can’t do this.”

My body went to ice in that moment. Even as part of my brain screamed that it had to be a joke, some weird prank or blooper that the studio had demanded Harrison perform, I saw the truth of it in his eyes.

He leaned in again, kissed my ear. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

Then he ran.

Though his flight down the aisle showed from the aerial point of view on my phone screen, I saw it from my perspective that day. As he ran from me.

As he ran from me. From us. From the life we had planned.

I think my heart was already breaking, each of his footfalls shattering it further. It couldn’t be happening; it couldn’t. It didn’t make sense.

Then Harrison’s bad knee gave out and he fell, crashing to the ground. Though the impact was hard enough I was certain it hurt him, Harrison popped right back up and continued running. No pain too great to keep him from fleeing our life together, apparently.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Seth snagged the phone from my hands. “That thing hasn’t been seen enough? Hell, everyone’s talking about it breaking records, but I’d say you’re responsible for half the views on there.”

“Mind your own business.” I lurched for the phone, but only managed to nearly knock myself out of the high-backed barstool.

“Really?” Seth leveled his stare at me. “The first night you allow yourself to be seen in public since the wedding and you show up at my bar and tell me it’s none of my business? You’re not going to make the Blue Blossom the scene of a meltdown, and, I love you, so I’m not going to let you do it to yourself, either.”

“Right. Like you haven’t been responsible for more than one scene here. You use this place as your own brothel. How many jilted parties have come knocking on your bar to scream at you?”

He cocked a brow. “Oh, so we’re going there, are we? If you’re going to be throwing sex in my face, then two can play that game.” He turned the phone to face him and began tapping. “Now… where’s that sex tape, again? It has even double the views of the wedding, if I’m not mistaken.”

This time, I managed a steadier lunge and snagged the phone. “Fuck you.”

Seth snagged the phone right back. “No. Fuck you.” Despite his words, his tone became soft. “My guess is you’re responsible for half those views as well.”

I probably was. Either way, I had the hazy images of Harrison being fucked by that goddamn Adrian Rivera a week after our botched wedding thoroughly memorized. As angry as I’d been when I first saw it, by that point I was glad it existed. It kept me from wondering if somehow I could fix things with Harrison, from calling him to try to regain what I’d lost. Just watching their naked bodies moving behind the rain-drenched walls of the glasshouse was more than enough of a reminder for me that not only was I rejected, but I’d been played for a fool.

That time, I didn’t try to get my phone back, and plopped my elbows onto the top of the bar. “Fine. Give me another whiskey.”

Seth started to shake his head and then sighed. “It’s a good thing I’m giving it to you at cost, or you would burn through your entire birthright tonight.” He refilled the shot glass. “You’re going to hate me in the morning.”

“Join the crowd.” I downed the whiskey.

“Shit, Will. If you’re going to do that, I need to switch to the cheap stuff. It’s not like you’ll notice a difference at this point.”

True story. “Again.” I tapped the glass.

Instead of filling it up, Seth leaned closer and placed a warm hand on mine. “It’s good to see you, Will. Finally. I’m sorry you’re hurting, but I’m glad you’re here.”

I’d spent the first six weeks or so in England and the rest of the time hiding out at my home in Lavender Shores. After the inquiries from reporters, bloggers, and gossip columnists had faded away, Seth had been one of the few outside of family who continued to call, despite me giving no response. I’d decided it was time to make an appearance—show everyone I was just fine, thank you very much. And, boy, was I ever doing a bang-up job of it. “Thanks. I’m glad I’m here…” I couldn’t finish the thought. It wasn’t true.

He squeezed my hand. “You’ll get through this. I promise.”

I didn’t bother to nod.

Seth’s tone brightened. “So, tell me about England. Did you break into the old sets of Downton Abbey and refuse to leave?”

Despite myself, I chuckled. “If only.”

“There had to be some good moments?” The hope in Seth’s voice was tentative, like he knew the answer. “I mean all that time in England for an Anglophile such as yourself, there had to be some bright spots, right?”

“One would think.” With my free hand, I grabbed the martini and downed what was left of the gin. “I fucked my way through every British guy there, I’ll tell you that.”

“That sounds more like my style than yours.”

Seth wasn’t wrong. But it seemed the thing to do, and, like the combination of whiskey and gin, it had done its job. It had numbed things for a while, blurred the hours into days, and the days into weeks. That particular assistance had dried up the second I’d reentered Lavender Shores.

I didn’t miss it.

But now that I was in front of Seth, I realized I had missed him. “No more about me. Tell me about you. Any boys I should know about? Anything at the Blue Blossom that’s exciting? Heather Kelly snip off your balls yet?”

“None of that. Heather is my business partner and just as much my best friend as you are. Don’t try to pull me into your all’s founding family feud shit.” As if he’d been watching me before, Seth tapped me on the tip of my nose. “And no, no boys to speak of.”

“Really? I might be three sheets to the wind, but I’m not drunk enough to believe that. If Seth Marino’s awake, he’s at least got one man in play, with two or three waiting in the wings. Even if he’s asleep, for that matter. Maybe even more so then.”

He shrugged. “You know me well. And while that’s true, none of them are special enough to speak of.”

Suddenly I was aware his hand was still on mine. How long had it been since I’d been touched? Well… I knew the answer to that. I’d been touched endlessly in England, but touched by someone I knew, who loved me? That was a different thing. I guess I knew the answer to that too. Three months.

No. That wasn’t right. I’d thought Harrison loved me; he hadn’t. I’d just been a means to an end, one more way for him to find fame and recognition. So… I didn’t know how long it had been since someone who loved me had touched me.

Seth’s large hand was a pleasing olive hue and strong, and I looked up into his arresting eyes. He didn’t have the reputation of being the Lavender Shores Italian stallion only because he was a slut of epic proportions; the man was stunningly sexy.

I released the martini glass and placed my hand over his, encasing it. “How much longer until close? Do you already have some of those men lined up for tonight?”

He flinched.

At his look, I instantly pulled my hand back. He might as well have been Harrison standing in front of me again. Rejection. Dismissal.

“Will…” Seth’s voice was full of apology.

“Whatever, at least you didn’t run.” I forced a laugh.

“Will…” Seth tried again. “You’d kill me in the morning. We crossed that friendship line way too long ago. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re as hot as—”

“Don’t.” God, it hurt. “Ignore me. I’m drunk.”

“Yes. You are.” Though I tried to pull away, Seth took my hand again. “Why don’t you stay with me tonight, though? I’ll make you a killer hangover remedy in the morning.”

Though I knew I should have some pride and turn down the offer, it sounded too good. It wouldn’t be sex, but maybe it would be something better—just my friend, a man who knew me well and loved me, holding me through the night. Just as I started to nod, a motion at the other end of the bar got my attention over Seth’s shoulder.

Though the man was blurry, as everything else, there was no mistaking who’d replaced the redhead Seth had been flirting with. His chiseled face, his golden skin, swept-back black hair.

With as drunk as I was, I should’ve considered it a trick of my mind, some conjuring because I’d just watched the wedding and Seth brought up the sex tape. But it wasn’t. I knew it wasn’t. It was simply my luck. My first time venturing out into Lavender Shores in three months? Of course Adrian Rivera would show up in the exact location I was.

I ripped my hand from Seth’s and practically threw myself from the bar, knocking over the stool. “What the fuck are you doing here?” As I yelled, even I couldn’t miss the slur in my words.

Adrian had just sat down and flinched. He started to stand.

“Don’t you fucking dare try to leave.” I rushed down the length of the bar, stumbling, managing to both catch myself and knock over another stool. “You stay right where you are. I’m going to bash your fucking brains in.”

I was aware of Seth yelling my name, but I ignored him, and continued my flight down the bar. By the time I reached Adrian, he’d stood and had both his hands raised. “Will, don’t. Please. I—”

“Fuck you!” I punched him as hard as I could.

He stumbled back, bashing against the wall.

With the force of my swing combined with the combination of whiskey and gin that occupied more space than blood in my veins, and I did a complete spin and crashed to the ground. Somewhere in my mind something warned of injury, of pain. And that I was going to hurt in the morning. I ignored it and scrambled up, or at least tried to. “How dare you show up here? How dare you show your fucking face anywhere, you motherfucker.” I managed a few stumbling steps toward him before Seth leapt over the bar and wrapped his arms around me, holding me still.

“Will!” He squeezed tight. “Stop it. That’s not—”

I tried breaking free, shaking like a rabid dog, but couldn’t, so I settled for snarling at Adrian. “How can you show your face anywhere? Stealing a man’s fiancé? Releasing a fucking sex tape for the entire world to see? I knew the Riveras were classless piles of shit, but—”

Seth shook me so hard that I bit my tongue. “That’s not Adrian, Will. Knock it off. It’s not Adrian.”

Though I tasted blood, I ignored that as well. “What the fuck do you mean? Of course it’s…”

Reality cut through the haze, and I stared at Adrian. Even if I’d been sober, I wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference, at least in appearance, but I would’ve been able to feel it, sense it. I went slack in Seth’s arms, and thankfully he was strong enough to hold me upright. I narrowed my eyes at the man. “Andre?”

“Yeah.” Adrian’s identical twin nodded. And though he rubbed his jaw, he didn’t sound the least bit angry. “Sorry. If I’d known you were here…” He shrugged and motioned toward the door that led out into the lobby of the bed-and-breakfast. “Sorry. I’ll go.”

“Will.” Seth’s whisper by my ear was pleading. “Fix this. Don’t leave it like it is.”

It only took a few more moments for the puzzle pieces to come together, though I had to hammer them in place, thanks to the effect of alcohol. Andre hadn’t sounded angry at being punched. He’d sounded sad and miserable. He’d sounded like me.

That time as I shook off Seth’s embrace, he let me go. I had to grab on to one of the stools for support. “Andre… wait…”

Andre turned back. “It’s okay. I… just thought… maybe I wouldn’t drink alone tonight.”

Andre’s wife had died a little less than a year before. Though he’d done the brotherly duty by showing up at events here and there for his twin, the man had been a recluse since Meghan’s death, nearly as much as I’d become.

Shame washed over me as he continued to rub his jaw.

Swearing and sleeping with anything that moved weren’t the only new aspects of my personality. I’d never punched anyone before. And up until my world fell apart, I wasn’t the type of guy who screamed and cursed at people either. And there I was, drunk and messy, screaming at a man… hitting a man… who not only hadn’t done anything wrong but had experienced a loss greater than my own.

“No. I’m sorry. I thought…” Well, it was clear what I thought. I motioned to the bar. “Sit. Please.”

Andre shook his head. “No, I don’t want to intrude. I know that I’m… that my face is the last thing you want to see right now.”

I couldn’t hold back my laugh. “Like it matters. I see your face all the time. If not in my mind, then on my fucking phone. Might as well see it in person.”

Still he hesitated.

I swatted at Seth. “Dude, pour the three of us a round of Dalmore.”