He started to deny it, then changed his mind. “Might be. Yeah. I know that’s fucked up,” he said. “You’ve always been min—my best friend. We won’t have this if you start dating someone seriously. If you…”
“Get married?”
His complexion turned gray. “Mmm.”
Cement caked her insides, but she was used to it by now. She’d loved Andrew since she was a child. She’d waited patiently for him to love her back—as more than a friend—and he hadn’t. He’d done nothing about it. So while she yearned to dissect his every word and rejoice in them, ached for what he was feeling, she couldn’t do it anymore without being a fool. “Ask me the question, Andrew. The one you ask me every night.”
A line formed between his brows. “Can I do anything for you, Jiya?”
“Yes.” She took his face in her hands. “You can stay my friend. No matter what happens. Fine, things are changing in my life. But I couldn’t bear it if I ever lost what we have. Just stay my friend. Promise me.”
His jaw bunched. “You know I’d cut my heart out before saying no to you, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then you have your answer.” He wet his lips. “But we’re finishing the dance.”
“Fine,” she said a little breathlessly, because he’d let that dangerous hand on the small of her back move a touch lower. Just a touch.
Andrew’s mouth hovered just above her ear. “You’re coming to the end of your four-hour fancy shoe window.”
Oh, her poor, abused heart. It couldn’t take this. Andrew knew her so well. Better than anyone ever would, probably for the rest of her life. And that made walking away from the dream of him painfully hard. “My feet are going to turn into pumpkins soon.”
His chuckle made her shiver. “I got you, sweetheart.”
Before Jiya could guess his intention, Andrew wrapped an arm around her lower back and lifted her out of her shoes, leaving her toes wiggling in midair, her upper body flush against his broader, more powerful one. “Ohhh I should make you put me down, but the blood is returning to my feet and it feels too good.”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve lifted you in the air like this. You remember?”
A laugh shook her and Andrew’s arm tightened. “You’re talking about the time your baseball went into mean Mrs. Columbo’s backyard? You held me up so I could grab it with a field hockey net while she sunbathed literally one foot away?”
“Nailed it.” His chest vibrated. “You were the only one light enough for the job.”
“I wrote out a will and testament in case she caught and ate me.” She sighed. “I was a dramatic child.”
“You were the best. You are the best.”
She was grateful he couldn’t see her eyes squeezing shut. “Don’t butter me up because you haven’t hit your dick joke quota.”
He nudged her cheek with his nose. “Don’t get cocky.”
“Ohhh. Two down. Don’t—”
“Drop the balls now? Game, set, match, sweetheart.”
“I’m impressed.”
“Oh yeah? You should see my—”
She put a hand over his mouth. “Quit while you’re ahead.”
His eyes smiled at her over her silencing hand and they stayed like that for several moments, Andrew holding her aloft, shifting side to side to maintain the excuse of dancing, their eyes locked together amid the cheers and music of the bar. It might as well have been dead silent. Throughout her lifetime of being in love with Andrew, Jiya had barely managed to retain a scrap of her heart. She was very close to losing that tiny shred now and being left with nothing, so she wiggled free of his grip and put her shoes back on, feeling his rapt attention on the crown of her head.
She glanced over her shoulder at Marcus and Jamie who were holding each other and rocking right to left, speaking to each other with their eyes. Marcus had put on sweatpants, but he still wore the pasties and Jamie looked drunk and deliriously, stupidly happy. Jiya faced Andrew again, just in time to catch him in the act of looking at her breasts. He didn’t even have the grace to look guilty and something about his defiance made her nipples hard, as if her body wanted to please him more, despite the boundaries she was desperately trying to reestablish. “Come on. Let’s go round everyone up and ship them off to bed,” she managed, sounding winded. “W-we don’t want them hungover reciting their vows tomorrow, do we?”
“No.” He cleared his throat hard, giving her a determined smile. “We can’t have that.”
Before the spell could weave its way back through them, Jiya turned on an aching heel and went to congratulate Marcus on his new career as a stripper.
CHAPTER FIVE
It had been Marcus’s suggestion to marry Jamie in the exact spot he’d been attacked years earlier. He’d asked Andrew about the idea over a beer one night in the Castle Gate and Andrew had voiced his doubts, afraid it would bring up bad memories for his brother. But seeing Marcus and Jamie bathed in mid-morning sunlight, standing in ankle-deep water, holding hands and reciting their vows, Andrew knew it had been the right choice. Jamie would never feel hate or fear walking down this beach ever again. He’d remember the way Marcus was looking at him right now—with something akin to worship. He’d think of the group of people gathered around to support the union, and he’d only feel the positivity of this place.