Page 57 of Brushed and Buried
“The ones who know their way around a crisis.” Adrian’s smile is warm but professional. “And this is what I do for a living, just usually for galleries instead of weddings. They’re the same principles, though. Creative vision meets logistics reality.”
“Lucky for us,” George says, and his relief is obvious.
Adrian stands, swinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’ll take care of the hotel coordination, then catch up with you later. I’m meeting Ayaka around noon; she’ll be here.”
“Perfect! We’ll meet her too,” Becca says without missing a beat. “And we’re not letting you disappear again.”
“Not planning on it,” Adrian says, and there’s something warm in his voice when he says it, just not when he’s looking at me.
He heads toward the hotel reception, walking past my chair without the slightest hesitation, close enough that I catch his scent, something clean that makes my chest ache. But he doesn’t pause or give any sign that my presence affects him at all.
“Well,” Lance says after Adrian disappears around the corner, “aren’t we lucky our stripper-turned-savior is here to the rescue.”
“I like this side of Adrian too,” Becca says, sinking back into her chair. “Completely in his element.”
She glances at me as she speaks, and I pretend to be captivated by something going on near the concierge desk.
Beneath all that easy professionalism, all that effortless warmth with everyone else, he’s still the same Adrian who could shut down my brain just by walking into a room. He’s still the same man who could make the rest of the world disappear simply by being there.
And he’s treating me like the last few days didn’t happen.
The rational part of my brain knows this makes sense. Whatever happened between us years ago is ancient history, and whatever happened before he left the hotel a couple of days ago was just the messy conclusion to something that should havestayed buried. He’s here to help Trevor and Becca, not to deal with my bullshit.
But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to watch him treat me like a stranger while joking around with everyone else like they’re family.
“I’m going to walk the beach,” I say, pushing to my feet.
Trevor looks up from his phone, frowning. “Everything alright?”
“Yeah. I just need some air.”
I make it halfway across the marble floor before I hear Trevor behind me.
“Vince, wait up.”
I stop but don’t turn around. Trevor catches up, falling into step beside me as we head outside.
“Talk to me,” he says once we’re clear of the lobby.
“Nothing to talk about.”
“Right.” Trevor’s voice is dry.
We walk in silence toward the beach access path. The afternoon heat hits us the moment we step off the air-conditioned terrace, but it feels good after the artificial cool of the lobby.
“It’s good he came back,” Trevor says finally. “It feels like the chance you’ve been waiting for.”
At this point, I don’t know whether to punch my best friend in the face or hug him tight. I know him well enough that he did what he did for me, but this feels like reopeninga wound that never really closed. I wasn’t exactly a ray of sunshine in the last few days. Adrian did come back, dropped everything, flew down here, and immediately started fixing problems that weren’t his to fix. And he’s doing it with the same easy competence he brought to everything else, making it look effortless while everyone else had been panicking.
But he won’t look at me for more than two seconds at a time.
“Two more days,” Trevor says quietly. “By Sunday, it’ll all be done, mate.”
Done. Right. Like I have any idea what that looks like anymore. Trevor gives me one long look like he’s saying,now’s your chance to do something about it.
The beach stretches out ahead of us, all white sand and endless blue water. It should be peaceful, should help clear my head and get my shit together.
Two more days feels like a lifetime.
