had ahead of him—a partner, a family, a long happy life with someone who had time to devote to making him happy every day. I didn’t expect that anymore, so I was able to take what I could get and let go.
But I didn’t think Epic would ever accept such a fate.
I hoped he never would.
So I steeled myself to leave his heart intact for the man who would someday deserve it, and I hoped by caring but not pushing anything further between us, I could reach the end of the weekend having achieved my goal.
Then he’d demolish my good intentions with a smile, or a wink, or the clasp of his hand over mine.
“How much do thoughts cost these days?” he asked.
“I don’t know. You’re the master financial engineer.” I blew on my coffee before I sipped because it steamed in the cool air.
“I can do sufficiently math-heavy and cerebral finance stuff, but pricing someone else’s thoughts? Not so much.”
“Well, mine are free. I’m tired. I think I’m floating along on a current of good wine, food, and exhaustion.”
He leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Best place to be. Ride the wave, sweetheart. It’s great to see you so relaxed.”
“Feel like a walk after coffee?”
“Yeah, maybe.” He studied my face. “You just want a cigarette.”
“I won’t lie.”
“Fine.” He took another sip of his coffee. “We can sneak back to your favorite guilty pleasure spot.”
“You have no idea what my favorite guilty pleasure is or my favorite spot, for that matter.”
He lifted his brows. “If that’s a dare, I bet I could find out in about fifteen minutes.”
“It’s not. Brat.”
“You’re the bratty one.”
“No, you are.” I grabbed the check wallet, signed the meal to the room, and slid my chair back to stand. My spine cracked one vertebra at a time like popcorn.
I hoped Epic hadn’t heard, but he snorted. “Sure you have another walk in you?”
“Shut up.”
“I could piggyback you to the suite.”
“No.”
“I could have security bring one of their golf carts. You could ride back.”
“No.”
He got to his feet as if he were grace personified, damn him. “In that case, let’s go take that walk so you can light up because what good is arthritis without some sort of lung disease to go with it.”
Epic followed me through the gardens and out onto the beach without speaking. Normally, I’d have felt it necessary to make small talk on the way. With anyone else, I’d have remarked on the temperature or the stars, but with Epic, it wasn’t necessary. He was taking it all in too, and he had his own thoughts.
When his hand wrapped around mine, it felt natural and right. I had to swallow the fear of how I’d feel when I went home again because I knew the closeness we shared couldn’t—wouldn’t—last.
At the end of the long beach pathway, I lit my cigarette. The flame briefly illuminated Epic’s features. I worried he was thinking the same things I was. I wondered whether it would hurt him when we parted as much as I feared it would hurt me.
Perhaps that’s why we weren’t speaking, and it wasn’t comfortable at all but simply a way to put off the inevitable.
We sat on the seawall together while I smoked. Our shoulders brushed. From a few feet away, I heard footsteps, and sure enough, as though some dramaturge had staged it, Luis materialized from the shadows again.
“I’d say you planned this if I didn’t know you better,” he said.
“I didn’t.”
“I know. Admit it, you’d have broken your leg to avoid running into me by chance.”
I stubbed out my smoke. “I’d have pretended to break my leg, maybe. Not now, though. It has been good to see you again, Luis.”
“That’s nice to hear.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Sorry to interrupt. I was taking the evening air and saw you sitting here.”
“We were just going in.” I stood.
Epic squeezed my hand. “Thank you again for inviting me to the party last night. I really enjoyed it.”
“You’re welcome.”
Awkward, running into Luis on the night before his wedding. I tugged Epic to his feet. “We should probably—”
“I’ll walk with you.” Luis spread his hands amiably. “I need to get back anyway.”
If the walk to my smoking spot was natural and free of anxiety, this was the antithesis. The three of us walked together stiffly, followed by a hundred invisible thought balloons—things we could say, things we shouldn’t say, things I might have been foolish enough to get off my chest, except