Kento knew their type. He’d encountered them all over the world.
As was usual for the breed, they were pretty. In a calculated way. They were both tall and statuesque and wore nylon windbreakers, one bloodred and the other as brash an orange as her lipstick, as if to be properly protected for the weather. But their jackets might have been a child’s size, so snugly did they fit against their torsos. Surely there was no shield from the elements when those coverings were worn unzipped so low that Kento could make out the color of each of their bras. Jeans skimmed their long legs down to the spike-heeled boots that looked ready to catch in between the wooden planks of the boat dock.
Both had hair styled to perfection, which was almost pointless if someone was to spend any amount of time outdoors in Seattle. As if to illustrate the point, the mist in the air had turned to rain in the few minutes since they had been chatting, as often happened in the Pacific Northwest. They both wore heavy makeup, and individual raindrops began sticking to their false eyelashes, creating little bubbles.
“Mr. Yamamoto, ready when you are, sir.” The yacht’s captain appeared with his announcement.
Having just flown in on his private jet from Tokyo, Kento had a couple more legs to his long journey—a boat ride to the Willminson Island harbor and then a limo to the luxury lodge that had been reserved for the destination wedding. He’d spent most of the flight working and was tired, looking forward to a little rest before the numerous events of the extended weekend began to unfold. Plus, he’d learned that once a person was running a multibillion-yen software develo
pment empire, there was no such thing as a total escape and he’d be supervising operations from afar over the weekend. So he was ready to board and let the captain set off.
“Ladies, if you’ll excuse me. I’ll no doubt see you at the welcome reception tonight.”
The smiles that had been glued onto their faces both dropped in unison. He didn’t know what they were expecting, but their expressions read disappointed. They’d wanted something from him. Just as the rain turned heavy and a downpour began.
Cripes, Kento thought. He couldn’t shoo them away and send them teetering in the rain with their heels and wheeled suitcases all the way over to the other dock to take the public ferry. He’d have to give them a ride.
“Come onto my boat. I’ll take you,” he said, stretching an arm out to help the first one of them onto the deck. They both grabbed hold of him at the same time.
“Thanks, Kento!” one exclaimed and clumsily hoisted herself on. He became part of a tangle of outstretched hands and luggage handles while the rain whipped around, so he didn’t notice which of them had thanked him.
“You’re a hero,” came the other’s voice.
“Our knight in shining armor.”
It was going to be an endless ride across the Sound if they continued with their sucking-up routines. Did men actually fall for that sort of thing? Not men like him, he affirmed. When just about every human encounter of his formative years had been a verdict on what his financial and social standings were and weren’t, Kento had developed a healthy skepticism for people’s motivations in wanting to get close to him.
In fact, he’d soon be face-to-face with some of the very people who had ingrained that distrust into him, who’d seared it into him like a hot iron’s brand that he still wore like a tattoo. An attitude that he was proud of at this point. While the upcoming weekend was meant to send Lucas and Christy into what would hopefully be a lifetime of wedded bliss, Kento had some less idyllic business of his own to take care of.
After he ushered the two women into the shelter of the boat’s cabin, Kento returned to the open air of the stern as it pulled away from the dock. He would no doubt get soaked, but he didn’t care. From his vantage point at the back of the yacht, he kept his eyes fixed on the mainland as they pulled away, the sights of the Seattle skyline that he hadn’t taken in for years. The Ferris wheel. The renowned food stalls of Pike Place Market. The office skyscrapers. There were the mountains in the distance, dwarfed by Mount Rainier, the tallest in Washington, the stratovolcano that hadn’t erupted since the late 1800s.
Kento felt a special nostalgia to once again see the most famous of the city’s landmarks, the six-hundred-foot-tall Space Needle observation tower that instantly identified Seattle. As it had since its construction for the 1962 World’s Fair, the structure with its flying saucer design watched over the storied city with a parent’s caring eye.
Seattle used to be home. It was where he’d grown up and gone to university. After his software design corporation, NIRE, continued to grow and grow, Kento moved his parents to Japan to be with him. His sister now lived in Connecticut, so he no longer had cause to return. Breathing in the wet mist of the Sound, he was reminded that there was nowhere quite like Seattle, the Emerald City, so named for the year-round greenery in and around the metropolis.
It was a city filled with memories for Kento, some good, some not so. In particular, there was one recollection that he needed to bring into the present so that he could put it in the past. A remembrance with dusty blond hair the color of pure sand and eyes so light a brown they were almost transparent. With skin that smelled like sweet cream. The scent that still lingered in his nose, all these years later.
“I hear you and Erin Barclay used to date,” MacKenzie blurted after Kento returned to the cabin and instructed the first mate to serve him and his guests a quick coffee for the short journey.
Kento looked her in the eyes but, really, peered right through her. “We did,” he answered barely above a whisper. “A long, long time ago.”
“And now you’re best man and maid of honor at the wedding. That is so cute.” Amber’s voice entered from his side.
“Is it?” Kento raked his fingers through his thick, now soaked hair.
Of course, he’d been honored when his oldest friend asked him to stand beside him as he said his vows to his bride. Especially as the two men no longer saw much of each other. Kento had accepted, though not without trepidation, predicting that Christy would tap her cousin Erin to be the maid of honor. It had been seven years since he’d seen Erin and zero days that he hadn’t thought about her. As maid of honor and best man, he knew there’d be expectations that the two would spend a lot of time together, giving speeches, dancing for photographers and fostering a general camaraderie among the wedding party throughout the activities of the weekend.
As he’d thought about it over and over again sitting in his luxury penthouse overlooking kinetic, buzzy Tokyo, Kento began to believe that returning to Seattle for the wedding was perfect for the reckoning that he so desperately needed. Maybe that time spent working closely together would help him finally exorcise Erin from his brain and his soul. Hopefully, he could break free from the hold that his memories still had on him. “Cute.” He hypnotically repeated Amber’s stupid comment.
“I hope you’ll save a dance for me,” MacKenzie chirped. “We’re bridesmaids, you know.”
“Do you want to sit together at the welcome dinner tonight?” Amber asked. Kento found the question annoyingly pushy and didn’t respond.
Luckily, neither of them wanted to leave the cabin to go with him to the boat’s bow as they neared the island’s shoreline. Lush fir trees appeared to cover every inch of earth, tall, full and close together, creating a dense forest. It was an unspoiled and pristine spot that would make for an unforgettable wedding.
Kento felt the tiniest kick of sadness in his gut.
When his boat docked in the harbor, he helped Amber and MacKenzie disembark, refusing their offer that he join them. The public ferry arrived at the same time, delivering other wedding attendees. He recognized a few, scrutinizing the group and looking for that familiar sandy hair but not seeing it.