Paradise Lost & Found

By Jennifer Knightley

Falling hurts . . . even falling in love. 

What happens if you meet the perfect person, in the perfect place, and then the holiday ends? 

• Language: English
• Publisher: King & Knight Publishing
• Release date: Jun 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781739672508

Book preview

Chapter One – Adam

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Two weeks away in a tropical paradise to clear his head and soothe the ache in his chest. Two weeks of seclusion with an excuse not to answer calls from worried friends or angry relatives. Well, her angry relatives. But Adam had forgotten just how much of a romantic sap he’d been, and how many extras and upgrades he’d added to the trip. It started with the two pre-ordered glasses of champagne on the flight and was compounded by the ‘Mr & Mrs Callaghan’ sign held up by the chauffeur at arrivals. By the time Adam was ready to check in at the luxury resort—into the honeymoon suite, no less—he was already fed up with the whole thing.

And where is Mrs Callaghan? the reception clerk asked, trying to be helpful and polite, not realising he was pouring salt into Adam’s wounds. Will she be joining you later?

Uh, Adam cleared his throat and tried to school his face into a neutral expression. No. She won’t. Change of plans.

The clerk just smiled sweetly. Will you still be wanting the couple’s massage tomorrow afternoon?

What? Oh, erm. No, thank you.

It’s non-refundable.

Wasn’t everything?

Then, yeah. What the hell. He could probably do with a massage. He always carried his stress in his shoulders.

What about the sunset cruise, and the—?

If it’s non-refundable, keep it. Cancel everything else. Adam didn’t mean to sound so short, but the trip was playing on his frayed nerves. Why had he ever thought this would be a good idea?

Okay, sir. Can I take a copy of your passport for our security? Then I’ll get you all checked in.

The clerk disappeared with Adam’s passport and he was left, drumming his fingers on the countertop and wondering where everything in his life had gone so wrong.

The lobby was large and airy, all white glossy walls, polished marble floors, and leafy green plants. A sunken bar led out onto a paved patio that looked right out onto the ocean. It was mid-afternoon and the sky was a deep blue. Palm trees wafted gently in a breeze that carried a salty tang and sent warm air sweeping around the room. The place smelt warm, not the sticky, sweaty smell of New York in the summer, or the nose-clogging humidity of DC, but something fresh and comforting, like stepping inside the orangeries of the country estates they’d visited in England once. These two weeks were just going to be a constant reminder of her, weren’t they?

Adam tried to push Vanessa from his mind and let his attention wander, quickly latching onto a loud, rather fraught conversation at the other end of the reception desk. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but they weren’t exactly being subtle.

What do you mean the room’s not available? a tall brunette woman in a pretty sundress with sunglasses perched on top of her curly hair demanded; in a tone quite at odds with her flowery, casual appearance.

I’m sorry. There appears to have been an error in the system. The reservation was not properly recorded, their receptionist apologised.

But we booked this months ago!

It’s okay, her brother tried to calm her down. They had to be siblings, they looked identical; same soft waves in their dark brown hair, same bright blue eyes, same slope to their nose, same dimple in their chin. Adam dropped his eyes to the floor quickly before he could be caught staring. I’ll bunk with someone else.

Who? the woman scoffed. You’re sure as heck not bunking with us on our wedding night, and we’ve filled the other rooms to capacity already. She let out a long-suffering sigh and her shoulders slumped as her anger gave way to resigned disappointment. "First the bags go missing, now this. What else is going to go wrong? Coming here was supposed to make things easier."

I know, Becs. Her brother gave her hand a squeeze. You’re sure there’s no other rooms available? he asked the receptionist.

I’m sorry. We’re fully booked.

Then I’ll sleep by the pool, he laughed. It’s the tropics, I won’t get cold.

Sir, we cannot condone that—

Yeah, well, then you shouldn’t have double booked my room. He said it so charmingly that Adam found himself smiling along, in spite of everything.

Kip, you can’t.

I know, I know. There must be another hotel on the island—

Here you are, sir. Adam was pulled from the conversation with a snap as he was handed back his passport.

Is there . . . a problem with their room? he couldn’t help but ask, gesturing to the conversation down the desk. The clerk spared them a fleeting glance before returning to Adam with a cool smile.

Unfortunately, our booking system glitched, there have been a few double-booked rooms recently. Don’t worry, your booking has not been affected. None of the pre-paid ones were, the clerk tried to assure Adam, missing his point entirely. Here’s your room key. Room 701, top floor. Wi-Fi code is inside. Breakfast is served daily from 7:00 am–10:30 am in the dining hall, or you can arrange to have it delivered directly to your room—

Are there any other hotels on the island? Adam was still worried about the other pair checking in. He couldn’t help it; too empathetic, as he’d often been criticised, with a hero complex to boot.

Not on the island, no. But there are plenty of hotels on the mainland. The clerk tried to draw Adam’s attention back to the packet of information being handed over. Here’s your confirmation for the massage tomorrow. The cabana is on the beachfront, just through those trees, there. He gestured beyond the patio. Towels are available for you to use poolside and on the beach. We ask that only the dark blue towels are taken down to the beach. The ferry departs to the mainland at regular intervals throughout the day, but we can always arrange a water taxi if required. If you need any help at all during your stay, please just ask.

Thank you. Adam stepped away from the desk, clutching his room key and staring at the massage voucher. Two happy, Hollywood-pretty people were stretched out on massage beds, each attended by a smiling masseuse in a crisp white uniform. Behind them, white drapes fluttered in the breeze and the sun sparkled on the waves. The couple was holding hands between the beds; for some reason that was the final straw.

The last thing Adam wanted to be doing was lying on a beach whilst someone rubbed lotion into his back and asked him where his wife was. He wanted to be back in his apartment, head buried under a blanket, watching a game on TV, eating take-out, and doodling into a notebook until he felt like facing up to people again. He should never have come here. If it hadn’t been for the horrendous cancellation policy, Adam would never have even considered it. He gripped the handle of his suitcase and strode across the lobby, not towards the bank of elevators, but to the brother and sister now huddled by the front door, clearly trying to make other arrangements.

Here, he said, quite brisk and abrupt, but honestly, he was just proud of himself for not actively crying. Have my room. I don’t need it. I’m cancelling my trip. It’s all paid up. Non-refundable. So. Use it. He pressed the key card into the woman’s hands, unable to meet the eyes of her brother who was gawping at him with a look that Adam couldn’t decipher.

We can’t— she faltered and looked at the card. "The honeymoon suite," she gasped under her breath and shared a look with her brother that clearly said, ‘can we really accept this?’.

Please, just take it. Adam tried to give her a smile but it felt more like a grimace.

Thank you! I—

Adam cut her off with a curt nod, extending one to her brother, before sweeping past them and out into the bright afternoon sun. He heard a squeal of delight behind him and couldn’t help but smile. At least someone was happy.

Chapter Two – Kip

It was meant to be the trip of a lifetime. Becca’s dream wedding. After everything she’d been through lately, it was the least she deserved. The three of them (that was: Kip, Becca, and her fiancée, Robert) were heading out a few days ahead of the rest of the wedding party to make the final preparations. Rob had practically been part of their family since high school, this was just making things official, and Kip was ‘unofficial’ best man and man-of-honour to both of them. He was looking forward to a few days of sun with the pair of them; one last hurrah before Becca and Rob grew up and settled down like married people did. But things had started going wrong right from the off. They’d got stuck in traffic on their way to the airport and just barely cleared check-in, only to find themselves squished into a crowded plane sitting behind a teething infant who didn’t stop crying throughout the entire flight. Their bags, including Becca’s wedding dress, had been misplaced somewhere between the plane and terminal, and now this. How many more things had to go wrong before they caught a break?

Kip was only half-joking when he offered to sleep by the pool, but he knew it wasn’t really an option. That was the problem with choosing such a secluded and exclusive resort; that this was literally the only hotel on the island.

We’ll figure something out, he tried to reassure her with a smile. The glare he got in return told him she was far from reassured, but Kip’s optimism wasn’t deterred. They were in a hotel full of wedding guests. He was probably going to try and hook up with someone anyway, did he really need his own room? Take, for instance, the very attractive blonde man checking in across the lobby. He’d caught the same ferry they had, standing in the bow with the wind in his hair and a tortured expression on his face. Kip had been dying to strike up a conversation with him, but brotherly duties came first and Kip had been preoccupied assuring Becca that her dress would turn up before the day of the wedding. Although, telling Becca that it hardly mattered, that Rob loved her enough that he’d still marry her in a swimsuit, hadn’t helped matters. Duly noted, Kip had thought to himself, don’t make light of wedding issues.

They stepped away from the desk and as Becca phoned Rob for an update on their bags, Kip let his attention wander over to the blonde stranger. He was, without a doubt, the most attractive man Kip had ever laid eyes on. Tall and muscular, but in a very non-threatening way; wearing navy slacks and a white shirt so well fitted that it looked like he was modelling them for GQ. His watch looked like it cost more than Kip earned in a month, as did the neat silver suitcase stopped by his feet. Honestly, it was hard not to stare.

No luck, Becca sighed, pocketing her phone. The bags were definitely on the plane, so they’re in the airport somewhere. Just, God-knows-where.

They’ll turn up, Kip replied, distracted because the tall blonde man was suddenly walking right towards them. And oh, God, he was walking towards them with purpose.

Here. The tall blonde man thrust a key card and a bunch of papers in Becca’s direction. Have my room. I don’t need it. I’m cancelling my trip.

No, don’t go, wailed a small voice in the back of Kip’s mind.

It’s all paid up. Non-refundable. So. Use it. He kept his eyes downcast as Kip peered unabashedly at him. Up close it looked like he’d been crying.

Becca stumbled over her response, We can’t— shooting a look at Kip, can we?

Kip shrugged. One thing he’d learned early on in life, was that no one was too good for handouts or favours.

The honeymoon suite, Becca gushed.

So, this was the guy who’d booked it out before them and made Becca mope for a week; not that she’d have ever been able to afford it anyway (But I’d have liked the option!). Kip glanced down at the man’s fingers gripped around the handle of the silver suitcase; no ring. Christ, no wonder he’d been crying.

Please, just take it, the poor man grimaced at them.

Becca finally relented and the guy fled. Kip watched him go, feeling his own heart crack just a little. Who could ever dream of breaking that man’s heart?

The honeymoon suite! Becca gasped under her breath again. Kip! she gave a squeal. "The honeymoon. Suite!"

I know! he grinned at her, trying not to care where hot-sad-blonde-man was going.

"Okay, well this is clearly going to be mine and Rob’s room. You can have our old one. And now you don’t need to sleep by the pool. Phew. I knew this trip couldn’t be a complete disaster." Utter delight shone from her face. Kip could only smile back. It was the break they’d been waiting for, that solved their most pressing problem, so why did Kip feel like he’d lost something important?

· · —– · * · —– · ·

Becca kept mumbling ‘honeymoon suite, honeymoon suite’ under her breath as they rode the elevator to the top floor, and unlocked the door to one of only two rooms that occupied the space.

To say the room was extravagant was an understatement. For one thing, it was bigger than his entire apartment back home. Kip shuffled across the threshold and peered into the chain of rooms linked by large open archways. It had an entire, separate living area to the bedroom, a dining room—who needed a dining room in a hotel bedroom?—and two bathrooms. Two. Kip walked around the place shaking his head. The overindulgence of it all was outrageous. He opened a set of French windows and stepped out onto a wide terrace that looked directly over the ocean. The resort complex sprawled below them; an infinity pool on a raised terrace; a palm tree grove leading down to a white sandy beach, secluded cove with turquoise waters that sparkled under the sunlight. The brochure hadn’t been lying when it said the resort offered a slice of paradise.

Stepping back into the room, Kip found Becca sprawled face-up on the super-king-size bed looking for all the world like she’d jumped onto it.

I can’t believe you’re gonna stay here. He shook his head; knowing full well how much this suite cost and wondering what the hell kind of person could afford it.

Me neither! Becca moved her arms snow-angel style on the bed. It’s bliss.

You’re gonna be spoilt, who would ever wanna go home after staying somewhere like this?

Ugh. I know. She sat up, leaning back on her elbows. Who d’you think that man was? We’ve got to thank him.

Kip plucked a card from between the bucket of champagne and vase of roses sitting on the dresser.

Probably Mr Callaghan, he answered as he read the card:

‘Dear Mr & Mrs Callaghan,

Welcome to Juniper Bay Resort.

On behalf of the entire staff, we are delighted to congratulate you on your honeymoon!

We wish you a pleasant and comfortable stay in our hotel.’

Kip didn’t even pretend that his heart didn’t sink a little at the sight of the word ‘Mrs’. He flicked the card at Becca.

I’m gonna go find my room then I’ll probably head down to the pool for a bit.

How? This isn’t the sort of place you can skinny dip, Kip.

He swung round to show her his carry-on rucksack. I always pack a spare pair of trunks, just in case.

Course you do. She rolled her eyes.

Gotta be prepared. He grinned back. Did Rob say what time he was heading back from the airport?

Last ferry today is at six, so he’ll be on that, with or without the bags. She slumped back down into the pillows.

Hey, they’ll turn up.

Yeah, she sounded lethargic. The exhaustion of travelling and the stress of the day had finally caught up with her. Did you see the robes in the bathroom? They’re so fluffy. I could always just get married in one of those.

Kip laughed and gave her a gentle pat on her ankle. It’ll all be alright, he assured her. This time it seemed to work.

He left her drifting to sleep on the enormous bed and caught the elevator down a few floors to his own room. He was expecting it to feel small and stuffy after the grandiose honeymoon suite, but it was still larger than any hotel room he’d ever stayed in, with everything you’d expect from an ultra-fancy hotel: king-size bed; 50 inch tv on the wall; stone tiled bathroom with a walk-in waterfall shower; a neat little desk that had probably never once been used; a sofa and armchair framing a coffee table by the French windows. It was done up in soft blues, sharp whites, and flashes of gold. There was an abstract painting above the bed that reminded him of Greek mythology, though he couldn’t work out why, and the lights had about a million different ‘dimmed’ and ‘mood lighting’ settings. He was pleased to find the French windows opened out onto a small balcony, poking out from the side of the hotel and looking out of the lush vegetation that covered the island. If he leaned out over the railing, he could see both soft rolling hills to his left, and the ocean dancing prettily to his right. It was a beautiful room, in a beautiful place. Shame he didn’t have anyone to share it with.

Chapter Three – Kip

Kip had been intending to spend the afternoon poolside, but after testing the feel of the bed he, too, found himself succumbing to travel-weary exhaustion. He woke with a start sometime later, face down in the pillows, shirt rucked up around his stomach and inelegant drool slipping from the corner of his mouth. Through the windows, Kip could see the sky was beginning to darken, and a frenzied glance at his phone told him it was almost 7:00 pm. He’d slept for three hours. Holy shit, what a waste of a day.

Becca wasn’t answering her phone, so, after tidying up his appearance in the bathroom mirror, rinsing out his mouth, and chewing on a soft mint, he decided to head down to the bar. Dusk fell rapidly and the view beyond the patio was bathed in a deep blue, tinged with the fading orange glow of the sinking sun. Kip was headed for the beach bar when he spotted a familiar blonde head sitting with his back to the sunset; nursing a beer at the sunken bar set around the corner from reception. Kip quickly changed course.

You’re still here.

The man—Mr Callaghan, Kip recalled—looked up from his beer with a crease in his brow. This time it was obvious he’d been crying; his eyes were red raw and puffy. Was it weird that Kip wanted to hug him? Probably a little weird.

Callaghan cleared his throat and dragged a hand down over his mouth and jaw. Uh. Yeah. Turns out the earliest flight I can catch back is tomorrow morning.

So, your plan is to stay here drinking all night?

It’s a 24-hour bar, so . . . Callaghan shrugged and took another draught from his beer bottle. Kip tried hard not to stare at his jawline, but gosh, what a masterpiece. He was half a moment away from offering to give the man his room back or suggest they share—before he remembered the ‘Mrs’, or rather the recent lack of one, and thought better of it. He settled himself onto the barstool beside the man instead and caught the attention of the barman.

Two whiskey sours, please, he ordered for both of them with uncharacteristic nerves fluttering in his chest.

Callaghan put down his beer bottle and gave Kip a strange look with his eyebrows creased in confusion.

Well, you’re either highly allergic to hops, in which case you need to stop drinking beer. Or you’ve been crying, in which case you also need to stop drinking beer, and move on to something stronger, Kip said with a grin; steeling himself for the man’s response.

Callaghan dipped his head and Kip was delighted to see a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Actually, he called to the barman. Make mine a whiskey neat. No ice, just a splash of spring water.

Atta boy, Kip grinned at him, giving his bicep a slight nudge with his elbow. I’m Kip, by the way.

Adam, the man returned.

Do you want to talk about it?

About what? Adam’s voice sounded groggy. He’d definitely been crying.

I don’t think single men often book out honeymoon suites for themselves, let alone cancel last minute, Kip prompted, gently. What happened?

Adam looked away and shook his head. She called it off. Right at the last second. After the guests had all taken their seats.

Oh god, man. I’m so sorry. Kip’s hand twitched with the desire to reach out and squeeze Adam’s hand. Luckily Adam moved his hand to accept his whisky from the bartender before Kip could do anything brash and impulsive.

At least she had the decency to go out and tell everyone. Not sure I could have faced doing that. Adam practically drained his drink in one before twirling the glass around on its base, swilling the remainder around the sides. I feel so foolish. I should have seen it coming, we’d been rocky for months—years even. I’m not sure we were ever completely right for each other. But it . . . blindsided me. I thought we had an unspoken agreement that we’d try and make things work, y’know? He wrinkled his nose in a fairly adorable sniff whilst Kip hummed in what he hoped was a soothing tone. Sorry, I’m a bit of a mess.

That’s understandable. Poor man. Being left at the altar? It didn’t bear thinking about. But if there was one thing Kip had learned from his therapy sessions over the years, it was that talking about it did actually help. How did you meet? Kip asked when Adam fell silent.

College. Yale Law. . . Adam hesitated like he wasn’t sure he wanted to open those floodgates.

"Sheesh, you were together for a while, then?" Kip guessed, the guy had to be a similar age to him and Kip knew that, unlike him, most people graduated college in their early twenties, even with an extra three years of law school.

Adam nodded. We got together right before graduation. Moved to DC together—we’d applied to the same law firm, with a fast-track Associate programme. I always knew they’d take her; she was top of our class—whipped my ass in every mock trial we had—but for some unfathomable reason they accepted me as well. We got an apartment together and well . . . I thought the rest would be history.

Life has a funny way of never going to plan.

Adam flexed his eyebrows and gave a miserable shake of his head. No. It does not. He picked up his glass again and was clearly dismayed to find he’d already emptied it. He set it down with a gentle clink against the bar and sighed. It seemed natural that we’d get married someday, you know? It was the logical progression. Work for a while to establish our careers, make a name for ourselves. She was always going to be the high flying one—she made Associate at the firm before I did, but she stayed with me then. And she supported me when I left to start up my own firm. She loaned me money. Stuck with me through the lean years until I won my first big case and I found my footing. It just made sense that we’d get married after that. I didn’t even question it. Maybe I should have done. Maybe I’d have seen this coming sooner if I had.

Hey, it’s not all on you. This time Kip did reach out to give Adam’s hand a squeeze. To his immense surprise, and relief, Adam squeezed back. C’mon. Kip pulled his hand free and stood up. Adam glanced up at him with the pretty crease back between his eyebrows. He pouted when he was confused, it was utterly adorable. You’ve got one night on a tropical island, there’s no point spending it indoors. There’s a bar on the beach. Let’s get drunk there instead. Kip nodded towards the patio which was by now fully dark. A line of flaming tiki torches highlighted the route down to the beach.

Why are you doing this?

The question stumped Kip for a moment. Why was he doing this? It wasn’t about a hook-up anymore, it hadn’t been since he’d found out about the whole jilted thing. But even if that was off the table, Kip still wanted to spend time with this man. He still wanted to get to know him. Because I want to, he answered honestly, giving a small shrug. I enjoy your company.

Adam snorted in disbelief. Can’t believe I’m that great company at the moment.

"And because I don’t think you want to be alone right now," Kip added, hoping he wasn’t overstepping.

Thank you, Adam said. His smile wobbled for a moment, but he stood up, fishing a couple of notes out of his wallet and leaving them under his glass to pay for the drinks. Kip didn’t argue. He’d get the next round. And the one after that.

Don’t thank me yet, he smirked, grabbing Adam by the arm and leading him down towards the beach.

Chapter Four – Adam

Adam let himself be dragged towards the beach, not entirely sure what he was hoping to achieve from this endeavour. Accepting drinks from attractive men in hotel bars wasn’t exactly his MO, and the guy was attractive, there were no two ways about it. Adam had figured out he wasn’t exactly straight in college, and under different circumstances, Kip would have been exactly the sort of person Adam might have tried to flirt with. Tried being the operative word. Adam had been in a relationship for so long that he didn’t even know where to start, or even if he wanted to. But a couple of drinks didn’t necessarily have to mean anything, and the guy was right: Adam didn’t want to be alone.

The problem was, Adam didn’t have anyone he was willing to turn to. He’d texted Eli and Nate, his only real friends in the world, to let them know he was cutting his trip short, but that was all he’d said. Adam was reluctant to open up and reveal just how devastated he felt because he hoped that in a few weeks—once he got over the shock of the whole thing—he’d be back to normal, and he’d rather not be constantly reminded of how he felt right now. Adam hated feeling vulnerable, he hated letting anyone know he had a weak side. It would dent his pride to let his friends see him like that . . . perhaps it was better to let a stranger see him through the worst of it; a stranger Adam was certain never to see again after that night.

Kip kicked his shoes off as soon as they reached the sand and rolled up the bottom of his jeans. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes that was so utterly endearing as his face shone in the light of the tiki lamps. Adam wondered again about what he was getting himself into, but he followed suit; kicking off his shoes and plodding barefoot through the sand, half sinking with each step as the footpath opened out onto the beachfront. A wooden lean-to served as the bar, with tables and chairs set out in the sand. A fire pit glowed and crackled further down the beach surrounded by cushioned benches and hammocks. Candles glowed in lanterns and more tiki torches gave everything a soft muted glow, whilst everything outside of their reach was plunged into deep darkness. Plenty of other people were clustered at the tables and milling around in the sand, but the beach felt far from crowded. The soft rush of the waves surging and retreating up the sand acted like a white noise machine, masking conversations and providing a gentle roar that Adam could focus on rather than the noise inside his mind.

Kip led the way right up to the bar and propped himself against it, hip cocked as he scoured the chalkboard menu. The barman finished mixing up two enormous drinks served inside hollowed-out pineapples, adding cocktail umbrellas and handing them to a group of women sporting matching pink sashes, before wiping his hands on his apron and turning to Kip.

What’ll you have?

One of those pineapple things, please, Kip grinned.

And for you, sir?

Adam glanced at Kip who was waiting on him eagerly. What the hell, a pineapple thing too, please. He was on holiday, wasn’t he?

Kip’s grin widened and Adam felt an odd sort of thrum deep in his chest. He fished his wallet from his back pocket, but Kip stayed his hand.

I’ve got these.

You sure?

Dude, you got the last round. Plus, you paid for the room. These are on me.

Adam shrugged and pocketed his wallet.

That’ll be twenty-four dollars, the bartender informed them, popping two umbrellas into their drinks with a flourish.

How much? Kip’s eyes popped. Fuck-me-sideways. Maybe I will let you get the next round, he laughed at Adam. Adam hadn’t quite figured out the local exchange rate, but he knew that was a lot for a drink; even if it was served in its own pineapple.

They took their drinks to an empty table further down the beach, wading through the sand and trying desperately not to spill anything over the lip of their pineapples. Adam wobbled slightly as he sat down and sent his drink sloshing over his palm.

Twelve dollars a drink, these had better be good. Kip leant forwards to slurp through his straw. He straightened, coughed, and grinned. Whoa, that’s strong!

Adam tried his own and nearly choked on the combination of fiery liquor and overly sweet pineapple flavour.

What the hell’s in these? he croaked.

Apart from enough liquor to stock the minibars upstairs? Kip laughed. I think I’m getting notes of pineapple? Maybe some sugary undertones?

That drew a laugh from Adam, half barked and catching in his throat as it surprised him. Kip looked so pleased with himself, slurping away and stirring his straw around the drink. Adam smiled back and settled into his chair. He stretched his legs under the table and let his toes bury themselves in the sand, exhaling slowly and feeling at ease for the first time in months. He hadn’t realised just how stressed and worried he’d been about the wedding. It was nice to switch off and relax.

Coup’la these and you’ll have forgotten your worries in no time. Kip plucked the umbrella from his drink, sucked the end clean, and dropped it onto the table. He already looked a little tipsy.

I should warn you, Adam said, feeling it was only fair to mention it now. I don’t get drunk very easily.

That a challenge? Kip smirked.

No.

You’ve clearly not tried the right stuff.

Oh, no. I have.

Yeah?

Junior Attorney hazing. You know those yard glasses? You normally drink ale from?

Kip nodded that he did, still slurping from his straw, eyes locked on Adam.

The senior partners made us drink a yard of vodka. I think they watered it down some. But. Yeah. I’ve never felt so hungover in my life. It either kicked my liver into overdrive or shut it down completely, he laughed. Either way, I’ve never really been able to get drunk since. That was the story Adam told anyway, it was more interesting—and sounded far less arrogant—than attributing his alcohol tolerance to his muscle mass.

Challenge accepted. A devilish smirk curved across Kip’s lips. Adam shook his head, powering through his drink to catch up with Kip’s half-empty pineapple.

So, what’s your story?

Huh?

You’re here for your sister’s wedding? Adam prompted.

Oh, yeah. Becca’s getting married on Saturday. She always wanted a tropical beach wedding but never thought it would feasible—can’t expect the whole extended family to fly out to an expensive resort, right? But then Mom and Dad got divorced and it was a real shitshow. Neither of them wanted to be at the wedding if the other was gonna be there and Becca said ‘fuck it’ and planned the friends-only destination wedding she really wanted. We’re having a celebration with Rob’s family—who aren’t assholes—when we get back, Kip explained.

Weddings are complicated, Adam commiserated. Coordinating that many people to be in the right place at the right time, organising seating arrangements and dietary requirements, listening to everyone’s opinions about the ‘best’ way of doing things without offending anyone or compromising on what you wanted . . . it had been hell. And it had all been for nothing. I’ve watched Vanessa lead high profile depositions and tackle the most obnoxious amounts of discovery without breaking a sweat—but in the build-up to the wedding, she was a nervous wreck. Of course, Adam paused, hindsight giving him a new perspective. That’s probably because she never wanted to get married in the first place. Christ. I’m such an idiot.

Hey, Kip said gently. He took Adam’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze just like he had in the bar.

Adam wasn’t used to such easy tactility, but he was ever so grateful for it. If he weren’t such a coward, if he didn’t think it would be weird as hell, he’d ask Kip for a hug. But he could settle for this. Adam squeezed Kip’s hand back and was glad when Kip didn’t immediately retract his hand but left it clasped around Adam’s for a beat longer.

"She could have told you sooner. She should have told you sooner. I don’t know everything of what happened between you, but I know that leaving it until the last minute was a shitty thing to do. It’s not your fault. He gave Adam’s hand one last reassuring squeeze and then released his grip, using both of his hands to lift his pineapple drink to his lips. Not entirely, anyway," he added with something of a smirk. It made his eyes flash in the low gleam of the candlelight and Adam couldn’t help but smile back.

There was an infectious charm that emanated from Kip. Adam wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve his company for the evening but it was a helluva lot better than moping alone at the indoor bar.

So, you own your own law firm, Kip said after taking a big slurp of drink through his straw. That’s big.

Adam shrugged. It always sounded more impressive than it was on paper. It’s a small firm.

How small?

Five lawyers—two partners and three juniors—and some support staff. It took us six months to even afford proper office furniture when we started out, he added. For some reason, it was important for him that Kip knew the truth. Adam usually tried to brag about himself and exaggerated the size of his operations, especially when he was talking to Vanessa’s friends or colleagues. But he didn’t want Kip to get the wrong impression of him.

Why’d you quit your fancy fast-track graduate job?

I disagreed with their corporate values, Adam answered.

In what way?

They didn’t have any.

Kip snorted a laugh and Adam dipped to take a long drink to hide a smug smile.

"You probably should have known that going in—especially if