The hotel hallway smells like champagne and expensive cologne, and I'm already regretting coming back for Lucas. My brother texted me twenty minutes ago: *Private room 8. He's plastered. Come get him before Dad sees.* I push through the door marked "Emerald Suite" and freeze. Six men in various states of drunk are scattered across leather couches. My eyes find Lucas first—my twin brother, slumped in the corner with his bow tie undone, grinning like an idiot. Then I see Jax. Jax Holloway. The best man. The man whose bed I left three hours ago. He's mid-sentence when I walk in, and I catch the tail end: "—just casual, you know? Keeping my options open before the wedding." One of the groomsmen—Tyler, I think, the investment banker—laughs. "Smart man. Lock it down after you've had your fun." My stomach drops. Jax sees me. For half a second, something flickers across his face—panic, maybe, or guilt—but then it's gone, replaced by that easy smile that made me trust him in the first place. "Maya." Lucas lurches to his feet, nearly knocking over a bottle. "Perfect timing. I need a ride." I can't look at Jax. If I look at him, I'll either cry or throw something, and I refuse to do either in front of these men. "Car's downstairs," I say, keeping my voice flat. Lucas stumbles toward me, and Tyler whistles. "Damn, Lucas. Your sister cleans up." I'm still in my bridesmaid dress from the rehearsal dinner. Midnight blue silk that cost more than my rent. My mother's choice, not mine. "Hands off," Lucas slurs, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "That's my twin you're talking about." "Come on." I try to steer him toward the door, but he's heavier than he looks when he's drunk. "Wait." Jax stands, and my traitorous heart does something stupid in my chest. "I'll help you get him down." "I'm fine." "Maya." His voice drops, just for me. "Please." Lucas is already halfway to the elevator, weaving like a sail in a storm. I don't have a choice. The three of us squeeze into the elevator. Lucas insists I stand between him and Jax, and I want to scream. I can feel the heat of Jax's body behind me, smell the whiskey on his breath mixing with that cedar scent I woke up to this morning. *Just casual. Keeping my options open.* The words loop in my head like a song I can't turn off. My coat is draped over my arm, and I feel Jax's hand brush against my hip. Then his fingers find my thigh, hidden beneath the fabric. I should move. I should step away. Instead, I stand perfectly still as his thumb traces a small circle against my skin. He leans in, his breath warm against my ear. "Let me explain later." I don't answer. The elevator opens to the lobby, and Lucas nearly face-plants into a potted palm. I grab his arm, and Jax takes the other side, and we maneuver him through the revolving doors like the world's most dysfunctional team. My car is right where I left it—a silver Honda that looks pathetic next to the Teslas and BMWs in the hotel lot. I pop the back door and Jax helps pour Lucas into the seat. "I'm good," Lucas mumbles, already half-asleep. "I'm so good." Jax closes the door carefully, then turns to me. In the parking lot lights, his eyes are the color of smoke. "Maya—" "Don't." "It's not what you think." I laugh, and it sounds brittle even to me. "You don't know what I think." "I know you're angry." "I'm not angry." I am. I'm furious. But more than that, I'm humiliated. "I'm tired, and my brother is drunk, and I need to get him home before my mother finds out he spent his bachelor party getting wasted." "I need to talk to you." "Not now." "When?" "I don't know, Jax. Maybe never." I reach for the driver's door, but he catches my wrist. "I meant what I said this morning." This morning, when I was still naked in his bed, he told me I was beautiful. He told me last night meant something. He kissed my shoulder and asked if I wanted breakfast. "Which part?" I pull my hand free. "The part where I'm special, or the part where you're keeping your options open?" "I was lying to them." "Were you?" The question hangs between us, and he doesn't answer fast enough. I get in the car. "Maya, wait—" He grabs the door before I can close it. "I'm staying at your parents' place this week. The guest house. For the wedding prep." I stare at him. "What?" "Lucas asked me yesterday. I'm the best man, and there's a lot to coordinate, and it made sense to—" "No." "It's already done. My stuff's there." Lucas stirs in the back seat. "Jax is gonna stay with us! Isn't that great?" I look at my brother's drunk, happy face in the rearview mirror. Then at Jax, still holding my car door, his expression unreadable. "Let go," I say quietly. He does. I close the door, start the engine, and pull out of the parking lot without looking back. In the mirror, I watch Jax standing under the hotel lights, getting smaller and smaller, until he disappears. Lucas is snoring by the time I hit the main road. My phone buzzes in the cup holder. I don't look at it. I know who it is. The guest house is thirty feet from my childhood bedroom window. Seven days until the wedding. Seven days of pretending this morning never happened. Seven days of Jax Holloway sleeping close enough that I could throw a rock and hit his door. I grip the steering wheel harder and drive toward the house where this is all going to fall apart.