Happily Ever Afters: A BWWM Best Friends to Lovers Romance Page 5

  “It’s been a year.” She held out her hand across the table for Elena to admire the ring. “He proposed on our anniversary.”

  “Wow! Gorgeous ring. Um, do you have a brother?”

  Elsewhere around the table, Mr. Lowry and Mr. Brosman talked world events. Many of Dominic’s groomsmen were on sports, reminding Preston of the guys at the station. Others like Babes entertained with personal life anecdotes liable to have whoever listened in stitches by the end. Two seats over from where he sat with Juliette, Giselle and Dominic looked tense. He ignored the sight. Surely what rum he’d consumed had him misinterpreting the vibe.

  Another drink later, he had to excuse himself for the bathroom. Juliette offered to show him the closest one near the terrace, but he kissed her on the cheek and told her to stay put. He’d find it. On his exit he caught the eye of Brandy, who winked at the little exchange, and he realized how thoughtlessly he’d gone in for affection. Had Juliette been uncomfortable with him kissing her cheek?

  The last thing he wanted was to be that guy—the kind who used the situation as an excuse to take advantage.

  For their public displays of affection, they’d agreed to handholding, to basic touches like putting their arms around each other, but they hadn’t addressed anything lip-worthy. In fact, they’d been downright vague as to where to draw the line, concluding they would do whatever it took to be convincing. Apparently he’d subconsciously taken that to heart.

  Preston entered the kitchen internalizing his potential step-too-far. He wasn’t the smoothest when it came to women. Never had been. The few serious relationships he had sprinkled here and there since high school had usually ended due to his inability to express himself. He always let the woman go. It was easier that way. But with Juliette, he refused to mess things up. Their friendship was too important to him.

  In the bathroom, he washed his hands and then splashed water on his face. The cold droplets invigorated him, jolting him out of his self-sabotage mindset and back into the game. Back into character. He was Preston Winston Brooker, the man who had fallen in love with Juliette Marie Lowry, and asked for her hand in marriage. It was time to start acting like it.

  He left the bathroom and passed through the kitchen in a shortcut to the terrace.

  “Lost?”

  The sultry voice low in register was new to him. He turned around and discovered a petite woman with golden brown skin standing feet away. Judging by the form-fitted polo shirt she wore, she was on the house staff. Her dark almond-shaped eyes twinkled as if permanently amused. About what? He didn’t know.

  “I was headed back outside,” Preston answered.

  “Did you need anything?”

  “No…”

  “You’re engaged to Giselle’s older sister, right?”

  “That’s me.”

  That twinkle grew brighter and her lips curled. “You’re not what everyone was expecting.”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  “They’ll get over it. And if they don’t maybe it’s a sign.” The woman cut the space between them in half, crossing the large white kitchen, closer to him. “I’m Natasia, by the way. My older brother Trey is head chef. If you need anything, let me know. I’m here all night, every night.”

  Preston barely nodded, unsure what to say. He walked away bewildered by the woman, feeling her eyes on him as he went. He was mere footsteps onto the terrace when Juliette showed up out of left field. She was beaming up at him, clearly kind of tipsy, in high spirits from the festive dinner.

  “Hey! There you are. I was about to come look for you. I thought you got lost.”

  His heart raced at the thought of her walking into the kitchen. He had no idea what Natasia meant, but he was grateful Juliette hadn’t seen or overheard. His loyalty was with his friend. He didn’t want her confused by the strange behavior of others.

  “Here I am. Sorry I took so long.”

  “My dad’s asking about you!” Juliette rocked on the balls of her feet and he chuckled at her adorable excitement. “C’mon, this is good. He wants to sit and talk.”

  Preston slid his arm around Juliette and teased her into a giggle. “Alright, let’s do this. Time to get that blessing.”

  The feast wore on late into the night. Sometime around eleven P.M., everyone’s battery finally lost its charge and they filed inside in need of rest. Juliette was one of the last one’s left, accompanying Gigi up the stairs and down the hall. With the hubbub going on, the sisters hadn’t had much of a chance to chat one-on-one. Close throughout their entire lives, they sought each other out to end the night that way.

  “If every night is like this, I’m going to be in a food coma for a week after I get back to Atlanta.”

  Gigi rubbed the small bloat on her stomach. “I need to make sure I don’t gain too much or I won’t fit into my dress.”

  “Are you kidding? You look great.”

  “Bridal fittings tomorrow so I’ll find out.”

  Juliette paused mid-step, grabbing her sister to halt her too. “You sound off. Is something bothering you?”

  “What would be bothering me?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m your big sister. I read you almost as good as Mom and Babes. Something’s up.”

  “Nope. Just exhausted.”

  Juliette wasn’t fooled for a second. Even as young girls, when little pigtailed Gigi was sticking her nose in trouble, a slightly less little pigtailed Jules was around to catch her red-handed. Now was no different. Instead of fibbing about eating the pie Mom baked for desert, she lied about feeling fine. Not that Juliette was the model family member to call Gigi out. She wasn’t exactly being honest herself…

  She let it go. If Giselle’s behavior continued to puzzle her, she’d address it, but for now it could’ve been a fluke.

  Preston greeted her in their bedroom with a big yawn and stretch. Juliette shut the door and noted how he had waited up for her. He hadn’t even undressed. Of course he wouldn’t. He meant it when he said he was sticking by her side. That meant if she wasn’t in for the night he wasn’t going to relax just yet. She signaled her intent by slipping off her sandals and unpinning her earrings.

  “Long day,” said Preston.

  “Yeah, thanks for putting up with everything. I know it was a lot. Probably more fanfare than you’ve experienced this year.”

  “More like this life.”

  She rolled her eyes on her way to the dresser, picking out her pajama shorts and tank. “Preston, everybody loved you. Babes said if she were thirty years younger she’d take a run at you.”

  “That’s oddly flattering. Tell her if I were thirty years older…”

  “Stop it!” Juliette snorted in her attempt to fend off her laugh. It occurred to her as she disappeared into the bathroom, began changing and wiping off her make up, that they hadn’t tackled the nitty-gritty about their sleeping arrangements. Through the door, she called out to him. “We joked about it earlier, but are you sure you’re okay sharing the bed?”

  “Yep.”

  “And my pajamas I usually sleep in—”

  “It’s fine.”

  “And, um…you?”

  There was a pause and she considered opening the door to see his expression.

  “Preston?”

  “I get pretty hot during the night, so, uh, nothing. But I’ll wear whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

  Juliette opened the door to find Preston standing on the opposite side of the threshold. She raised her brows at him. “I don’t want you burning up. This is your vacation too.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll find a way to deal. It’s what you want.”

  “Boxers,” said Juliette. “I won’t feel weird about it. We’re friends.”

  “Right.”

  For the next half hour they finished prepping for lights out. Juliette sat propped against the pillows with her reading glasses on and a book in her hands, unwinding in the last couple minutes before sleep. Preston peeled back his side of the covers, standi
ng distractingly shirtless in her peripheral vision. His entire chest reddened as soon as he walked out the bathroom and she mustered every ounce of nonchalance she possessed in hopes to lighten the awkward air.

  The truth was, objectively, Preston was attractive. That’s what made it awkward on her end. That she sort of wanted an ogling look, purely out of innate female habit and nothing more. She’d feel the same around any attractive, half-naked man in her vicinity. Still, she wouldn’t allow it. He was her friend. He might’ve looked good walking out in his boxers, the toned muscles he’d worked for on display, legs more noticeably bow-legged than ever, bulge between and all, but he was her friend. They were friends. She wouldn’t appreciate it if the roles were reversed and he gawked at her like a piece of meat, so why would it be alright for her to do that to him?

  She couldn’t sneak a look no matter how tempting.

  He was her friend.

  Juliette kept her cool, calmly turning the page in her book despite her inner turmoil.

  He climbed aboard and switched off the lamp on his side table. “Is that too dark?”

  “I can still see. I’m going to finish up this chapter and then I’m done.”

  “Now that I’m in bed, I’m realizing I’m a lot more tired than I thought.”

  “You put in work today, Detective,” she teased.

  “That means a lot coming from the prosecution.”

  Several beats passed, filled by silence. Preston closed his eyes and she read another page. Then a thought occurred and she had to ask.

  “Preston?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “How’d you know what book to get my Mom?”

  “I remember you mentioning what kind she reads. Took a wild guess.”

  Juliette smiled, touched by his attentiveness that easily called back to months and months ago, where she mentioned Mom’s reading habits in passing. He truly was dedicated to her cause.

  At the end of the chapter’s last page, she bookmarked her place. The last table lamp off, she curled up in the dark with a faint smile on her lips. Whatever happened in the coming days, Preston was undeniably dedicated to helping pull this ruse off. That alone meant the world to her.

  5

  Exhausted after day one at Paradise Key, Preston didn’t remember falling asleep. He vaguely recalled a conversation with Juliette about the book he gifted Brandy, but he must’ve drifted off soon after. The night was full of hours of serene sleep, encouraged by the gentle lap of water at the shore. They’d left their windows cracked open so that the ocean waves and summer breeze trickled into their room.

  In fact, he slept so good that he was smiling as he began to stir. He lay on his back against the goose feather pillows, limbs tangled in the luxury 1800-thread count sheets. The softest, silkiest something brushed his leg. The pleasant sensation only relaxed him that much more.

  These sheets felt like what he imagined clouds to feel like.

  His sleepy smile spread and he second-guessed waking after all. Maybe another hour would be okay. Lucidity faded away as he blindly reached for the sheet. That silky soft something touched him again, noticeably on its own, moving as if alive. The follow-up sensation enveloped him, stronger now. Enough to fast forward his blood flow down below. The bulge in the tent of his boxers grew.

  Preston's eyes popped open. Minutes into dawn, morning light bathed the suite-sized room in a dull white hue. He turned his head, realizing he wasn’t as covered by the sheet as he’d assumed. His limbs were tangled in the sheets, but also twisted in that same 1800-thread count was Juliette.

  Juliette, peacefully dozing, who was that unbelievably soft silk he’d felt against his skin. Her smooth legs had brushed his in her errant sleep. He should’ve known. She was a drifter when she slept, winding up somewhere different each time. Over the course of the night, she had crossed the border onto his side of the bed. He had learned what her long, dark stems felt like, and now he couldn’t get the silky feeling off his mind.

  Now he lay in bed hard as rebar. The fog of his erection rolled in with an arousing litany of follow-up questions. How was it possible to have skin that soft? What would it be like to run his hands up the smooth curves of her legs and thighs? If her bare legs merely brushing against his felt like the clouds in heaven, what could the rest of her possibly feel like?

  His tent continued to rise, climbing to full-mast. Absolute guilt colored his skin splotchy red, trying to fight off the inappropriate reaction to his friend. Preston rolled away, his back to her, hiding his large bulge, but in a subtle shift so not to wake her. Eyes squeezed shut, he urged his heart rate to calm. If he thought about something else he would be okay. The work he missed out on at Vice. Tank and his behavior at Cooper's home. Hell, what he’d eat for breakfast. Truly anything beyond the finest silk. His sail would lose wind and he could go back to sleep and pretend it never happened.

  When seconds went by and the imagery of her and her silky skin only intensified, he knew he had to get out of bed and sort himself out in the bathroom. He had to be careful. If he rose too abruptly or made any noise, she’d probably notice. Harnessing the stealth of a ninja, he crept out of bed, readjusting his stiff member at an angle she wouldn’t be able to see from bed. Not if he walked fast and stayed closer to the shadowy corners of the room.

  As suspected, Juliette called out to him in a drowsy murmur.

  “Preston? What’s—”

  “Uh, gimme a second.”

  He promptly shut the bathroom door and exhaled.

  It had been eight months for him. He hadn’t noticed much after the first two, submerged deeply in his work at Vice as a major distraction. The months flew by from there. But he supposed he was more sensitive to female touch than he thought. To female touch from a woman like Juliette lying in bed next to him.

  The truth was, objectively, Juliette was a beautiful woman. As a red-blooded male constantly in her orbit, it was impossible not to notice. There had been a time or two, while she wore her sleek workout leggings or donned a plunging cocktail dress, that he’d admired how good she looked. Times like last night, seeing her in her tank top and little shorts that he’d tried his hardest to ignore. He never wanted to be that pervy guy. They were friends. Platonic friends. Nothing more.

  He was determined not to let natural physical reactions change that.

  She was his friend.

  For the next ten minutes, he waited it out, emerging only when certain he was good. Like him, Juliette had given up on sleep. She sat upright against the pillows, scrolling through her phone.

  “Hey, morning. Sorry to wake you. Drank more than I thought last night.”

  “I didn’t realize we took so many pictures last night.”

  “Huh?”

  “Instapix. Everyone’s uploaded photos from last night.”

  Preston tilted his head, standing in front of the bed. “Didn’t the dinner end seven hours ago?”

  “People upload stuff from seven minutes ago. Seven hours is considered a whole lifetime later in the social media world.”

  “Sounds like you’re talking about Gigi.”

  “Actually,” said Juliette, lowering her phone and sighing, “Gigi hasn’t posted anything since yesterday morning. She always posts—averages about three a day. I’m talking about everyone else.”

  “She okay?”

  “I don’t know. She was acting weird last night.”

  “I saw her and Dom looking…kinda tense.”

  “Me too. I’m hoping it was a mood. The girls are doing breakfast and our fittings today.”

  “Girls only, eh?” He grinned at her.

  She teased one back. “Yes, girls only. No boys allowed.”

  “It’s cool. I’ll hang around here. Maybe go for a run on the beach.”

  “Preston! You will not spend the day alone. If I have to get Dad to drag you along to his doctor’s appointment, I will.”

  “But—”

  “Dom and the groomsmen are playing golf again today. Why
don’t you go with them?”

  Preston struggled to find a valid counterargument other than, “I don’t want to.” He didn’t say that though. He caved with a nod, agreeing to try hanging with the group for the day.

  “I’ll give it a shot. I can always ditch ‘em if they get on my nerves.”

  “Preston,” Juliette half-moaned, half-laughed.

  He walked over to the dresser drawer and collected a new pair of boxers, socks and an undershirt. “Calm down. I’m kidding. Mostly.”

  That morning the women ate a late breakfast in the sunroom. The house staff on shift adorned the main table with fresh flowers, baked goods like croissants and pastries, an assortment of fruits, and heavier options like breakfast sausages, roasted potatoes and seasoned eggs. The ladies gathered at various seats around the room and breakfast began.

  “Natasia, sweetie, can I have a Bloody Mary?” Mom asked, rubbing her temples.

  Juliette raised her brows. “And you talk about Dad. It’s ten A.M..”

  “I had more rum last night than I’ve had since spring break at college. That was thirty-three years ago. How do you think I’m feeling, honey?”

  Gram Babes cackled. “Shoot, I’m feeling good. Had me some Pina Colada’s with extra chunks of pineapple. Natasia, make that two Bloody Marys.”

  The curly-haired staff member gave a beleaguered smile and then disappeared out the room to fulfill their requests. Juliette moved on from the trio of Mom, Gram, and Mrs. Brosman, and joined Gigi on the other end of the room. Her baby sister was talking about men with Elena, Mellie, and Tabitha.

  “And he had the balls to be on Cupid’s Arrow, messaging me like he wasn’t hiding a wife and kid at home,” Mellie finished her rant. “I told him to fuck off and then I blocked him.”

  “I don’t have those problems.” Tabitha shrugged, sipping on her orange juice. “One of the perks of dating only women.”

  “Congratulations. Not all of us are so lucky,” snapped Mellie.