Page 117 of Better When Shared
Rebound Rules
Kristin Lance
Chapter 1
Enzo
Bath, England
"Here goes nothing." I said as I lifted my hand to knock on Gemma Bancroft's apartment door. To call her building luxurious would be an understatement. It was historic, perhaps some rich aristocrat's mansion at one point in time, and she seemed to have the entire upper level, as all I could see was an elevator landing and her door.
We wouldn't have gotten past security, but Brian had spun some story about wedding arrangements, and a kindly neighbor had given us access to her floor.
"We need a plan. We can't just blurt it out." Brian grabbed my hand and yanked it away from the door. "She's going to be devastated. He did this two days before the wedding, Enzo. Two fucking days." He went back to pacing like a caged animal, hisbroad shoulders straining against his button-down shirt as he raked a hand through his hair.
He looked better with his hair all messy, and I caught myself wondering what he'd look like if someone managed to mess him up properly. Which was a weird thought to have about your best friend's boring older brother. He was an accountant, for fuck's sake.
I backed away from the door and leaned against the hallway wall, arms crossed, trying to ignore the knot in my chest that had been growing tighter since we'd found Jake's empty hotel room. He'd bailed, and the note on his pillow hadn't explained much. And Jake had always been flaky, something that had tested the limits of our friendship through the years. But leaving his bride two days before his wedding was inexcusable.
"Look, man, there's no good way to tell someone their fiancé is a selfish piece of shit." I pushed off the wall, stepping closer to Brian. "We tell her straight, we apologize, and we hope she doesn't fall apart in front of us."
Brian's blue eyes flashed behind those tortoiseshell frames. "He's your best friend. Didn't you know?"
"I mean, he's your brother. Did you?" The words came out sharper than I'd intended, but the guilt was eating me alive. Brian was right. I should have seen this coming. Should have known Jake would run when things got real. Should have warned her. I huffed out a breath. "He said he loved her, and I believed him."
Brian stopped pacing and eyed me for a moment. Then, with a resigned sigh, he faced the door like he was preparing for execution. His knock was soft and tentative at first, then firmer when no one answered.
Footsteps approached from inside, and when the door swung open, it wasn't Jake's fiancé at the door. Instead, her friend Imogen greeted us. I'd met Imogen at the engagement party, but didn't know much about her. She and her upper-crust husband lived on a countryside estate somewhere in Dorset, and she looked like the sort of person who went to polo matches and owned boxes and boxes of fancy hats.
"Oh, hello! Brian, right?" Her crisp accent cut through my wandering thoughts. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"
"Is Gemma home?" Brian's voice cracked. "We need to... we have to tell her something."
Imogen's expression shifted from confusion to concern as she stepped back, gesturing us inside. "Of course, come in. She's finishing a work call."
The apartment hit me like a punch to the gut. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Bath's historic center, letting in streams of afternoon light that highlighted furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum, making one thing all too clear. Gemma was way out of Jake's league.
But it was the wedding stuff that made my stomach churn. There were sample centerpieces on the dining table, a dress bag hanging from a doorframe, and white shoes sitting on top of a box on the kitchen table.
None of it made sense for Jake, who lived off credit cards and charm, writing luxury travel articles while couch surfing and living in hostels, and occasionally scoring a free room from a gullible resort owner. Jake's world was built on debt and lies, while Gemma's was steady and real. She had old money, a family business, and a vibrant, successful career.
Jake had made it sound like she wanted to support him, but maybe she didn't know. If something had threatened Jake's pretend play game, it could have caused him to run.
"Gemma," Imogen called. "Brian and Enzo are here."
After a moment, Gemma appeared in the doorway, beautiful and polished like she'd stepped out of a magazine. Her ash-blonde hair fell in a clean bob, and she was wearing a loose pants and a flowing blouse that somehow managed to look both casual and intimidatingly expensive. She carried herself with the kind of confidence that told me she was used to being taken seriously.
My chest tightened as I really looked at her for the first time. High cheekbones, minimal makeup that somehow made her lips look fuller, the way she moved with ballet-dancer grace even in comfortable clothes. Jake had been punching way above his weight class, and we all knew it. He called her his ice queen, and she was certainly regal.
"This is unexpected." Her voice was warm but professional, and I could imagine it was the voice she might use to greet hotel guests, at once making them feel welcome, like she had everything under control. "Is everything all right?"
Brian cleared his throat, and I watched his Adam's apple bob. "Gemma, I... we need to talk to you about Jake."
She went very still, those green eyes sharpening as they flicked between us. "What do you mean?"
"He's..." Brian's voice failed him. He looked at me in panic, like he was drowning.
I stepped forward, hating every word I was about to say. "He took off. He left for Bali yesterday, according to the note we found. There weren't a lot of details, but we know he's not... he's not coming back, Gemma."
