International Guy: Milan, San Francisco, Montreal (International Guy Volumes Book 2) Page 40

  “I didn’t know she asked you to be in the wedding.”

  My nose starts to run, and I sniff, not caring if Miss Big Boobs sees me breaking down. I can’t care about anything when my friend is lying in a bed, fighting to wake up and come back to those who love her.

  I clear my throat. “Yeah, when you left for San Francisco. She called, and I said yes.” I gaze intently at Wendy’s face. “I said I would be thrilled and honored to walk in your wedding.” My voice rises in hopes that Wendy can hear my commitment all the way in dreamland or wherever her mind is floating.

  Time ebbs and flows around me, but I stay where I am, holding Wendy’s hand, willing my friend to open her eyes.

  Just open your eyes.

  I chant the phrase in an ongoing loop as hours go by.

  She never moves or opens her eyes.

  Sometime later, Parker’s warmth seeps deep into my knotted shoulders where he places his hands like he did earlier. He leans down and kisses the crown of my head, and I wish for a moment that we could stay in this happy, loving place for a bit longer. The place where we’re a couple who loves and cares about one another with no lies and half-truths between us.

  “Time to go back to the hotel. Visiting hours are over.” His voice is a rumble against my hairline.

  I blink as if I’m suddenly awake from a hypnotic trance. Opposite me, Michael sits holding Wendy’s other hand, staring desperately at her pixielike features. I don’t remember when he moved to that side or how long I’ve been sitting, but my back aches, and my knees and hips are stiff as boards. Parker grabs my hand.

  “Come on.” He urges me up and out of the plastic chair. I squeeze Wendy’s hand one last time.

  “Please wake up,” I whisper, and turn around to leave.

  Bo and Royce are standing like sentries at her door. That drop in my stomach from earlier happens again at the sight of Parker’s best friends. Bo’s features are hard, a grim expression on his face. Royce’s is not far from that, but I’m uncertain if it’s because of me or Wendy’s condition.

  “Hi, guys.” I shuffle forward, Parker leading me by the hand.

  Both men clock our clasped hands.

  “Skyler,” Bo says flatly, not a hint of happiness at seeing me.

  Royce isn’t much better with a nod and a rumbled, “Girl.”

  I close my eyes and dip my head down, following the white linoleum squares along the hallway floors while the chill that came off their two forms freezes me to the bone. Briefly I wonder if I’ll ever get back in their good graces.

  Parker doesn’t say a word as we pick up my luggage at information, and he leads me back to his hotel room.

  Numbly I set my luggage on the couch and rummage through until I find a pair of shorts and a cami, along with my travel toiletries. Clutching my pajamas and bag in my arms, I wander to the bathroom. As I shut the door, Parker is on the phone ordering room service. He knows what I like, so I don’t bother giving him my order. Not that I could eat anyway. I’ve got no appetite and a tightening stomach to contend with. It’s as if I’ve just gotten off a roller coaster, the waves of nausea and dizziness overcoming my movements.

  Between being nervous for Wendy and my own insecurities over whatever happened between Parker and Alexis, I’m a mess. My heart is heavy and my chest is strung extremely tight as I set my pj’s on the vanity and look at myself in the mirror. Long, unruly blonde waves run over my shoulders and down my back. The little bit of makeup I wore today has already been rubbed off. Even still, I wash my face and moisturize, needing the break from the man in the other room.

  I don’t know what to say to him. How to get him to trust and believe I would never betray him. He says he believes me, but if he does, why isn’t he talking to me? Why is he avoiding what must be said? And what the hell happened between him and Miss Big Boobs?

  An idea forms, and I don’t know how it’s going to go over with him, but I feel as though I’m standing on the edge of a building. Down below is the busy street, cars zooming past, citizens going about their business, and then there’s me. High up on a ledge, teetering between being saved and letting myself fall.

  A flash of my mother’s kind eyes comes to me, a memory swirling around me and taking me back to a time long ago.

  I was sixteen, and a boy I liked in the movie I was filming had hurt my feelings. I was standing in front of a mirror. My beautiful mother stood behind me, running her fingers through my long hair. Her chocolate-brown eyes were on me, sending love and compassion through our mother-daughter bond.

  “You know what to do, my precious girl.” She smiled softly and pressed her chin to my shoulder.

  I shook my head, and tears filled my eyes. “No, I don’t, Momma. He hurt me, and I don’t know if we can be anything more than friends.”

  “Oh, I didn’t teach my daughter the act of forgiveness for nothing.”

  I smashed my lips together and frowned.

  “Did he apologize?”

  “Yes, but I’m not sure I believe him.” My voice shook through the admission.

  “Well, my precious girl, it looks like you’re going to have to use the best advice my mother gave me at about your age. Especially when it pertains to boys.”

  “What did Grandmomma tell you?” I asked, hanging on her every word.

  My mother was always the wisest, most loving woman I knew. I wanted to be just like her when I grew up.

  “You just have to follow your heart. It will always lead the way.”

  With my mother’s words in my head and my heart in my throat, I dig through my travel bag and find a dark-pink lipstick. I uncap the lid and set it on the counter while I lift up onto my toes and write my own message to Parker in my swirling text. Something for him to remember and hopefully understand.

  Trust your heart.

  Love you,

  Peaches

  When I’m done, I put on my pajamas and open the bathroom door. The scent of hamburgers and fries assaults my nose, and my mouth waters, my stomach grumbling.

  Parker chuckles and points down at the food on the table.

  “That was fast.”

  “Peaches, you were in there for ages. I thought maybe you’d taken a bath.”

  “Guess time got away from me,” I mumble.

  “Yeah?”

  I nod.

  “Well, come eat.” He holds a chair out at the small table for me to sit in.

  I let my bare feet take me to the chair and sit down. He helps push it toward the table before going to his own seat. When he sits, he lets out a world-weary sigh, one I can feel all the way down to the tips of my toes. What I wouldn’t give to ease his tension, though I fear I’m part of the cause.

  “Are we going to talk?” I blurt out, knotting my fingers in my lap, my food untouched.

  He sets down his hamburger without having bitten into it. “Yeah, baby, we’re going to talk. After dinner, in bed, when I can have you in my arms. We’ll talk then.”

  “You promise?”

  “Have I ever lied to you?” His question seems to have a double meaning, as if I’ve somehow lied to him when I haven’t. And he needs to know and believe I never would.

  “No. You haven’t.” At least I hope he hasn’t. Even with the issue of Alexis hanging over my heart, we still have to deal with what happened between Johan and me. That’s a priority, but I can’t help the gnawing fear clawing at my insides.

  He tilts his head. “And I’m not going to start now.”

  “Did you sleep with Alexis?” I ask, not capable of waiting until we’re done eating to ask.

  He sighs and presses his thumb and forefinger into his temples. “I thought we were going to wait until after we ate and were in bed to talk.”

  My throat goes dry, but I scratch out the single plea. “I have to know.”

  He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t sleep with her. Now eat your burger. I fear it’s going to be a long night.”

  “As long as I know at the end of this we’re still
together. Can you promise that?” A tear slips down my cheek, and my heart pounds. Goose bumps rise on my flesh, and I wish we were already in bed, that his arms were cradling me in the safety of his embrace. “Parker . . .” The word comes out as a choked cry.

  He lifts his face, and his baby-blue gaze locks onto mine. “I don’t know what the future holds, Sky, but I know I want you in mine.”

  The end . . . for now.

  If you want to read more about the guys—Parker, Bo, and Royce—from International Guy, get your copy of London: International Guy Book 7.

  In the seventh installment, Parker heads to London, England, to assist an international bestselling author with a massive case of writer’s block. With Wendy still in the hospital, the guys up in arms, and Skyler back in the picture, Parker’s life is spinning out of control so fast he can’t seem to catch his breath. Maybe a trip to London is exactly what he needs to find his peace.

  Helping author Geneva James, a beautiful brunette at the top of the heap in the publishing world, see her gifts for the natural talent they are shouldn’t be too difficult. Until Skyler is invited by the client and Bo ends up crashing the case, falling instantly in lust with the pretty author.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © Melissa McKinley Photography

  Audrey Carlan is a #1 New York Times bestselling author, and her titles have appeared on the bestseller lists of USA Today and the Wall Street Journal. Audrey writes wicked-hot love stories that have been translated into more than thirty different languages across the globe. She is best known for the worldwide-bestselling series Calendar Girl and Trinity.

  She lives in the California Valley, where she enjoys her two children and the love of her life. When she’s not writing, you can find her teaching yoga, sipping wine with her “soul sisters,” or with her nose stuck in a steamy romance novel.

  Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated and feeds the soul. You can contact Audrey through her website, www.audreycarlan.com.