A rather roguish grin lit the corners of his face, as his eyes danced with a million secret stories that I would probably never hear. “I may have bent the rules once or twice,” he admitted coyly. “But I was hardly the only one. It’s unfair for him to hold me solely responsible—”
“Well would you look at the happy couple.”
Speak of the devil...
Nick and I spun around at the same time, as a handsome man weaved toward us through the crowd. There wasn’t a single head that didn’t do a double-take. There wasn’t a single eye that didn’t linger appreciatively as he passed by. But he had time for none of them. He kept his eyes locked on us, and the second he got close enough, his lips parted in a pearly smile.
“Allow me to offer my congratulations on this...blessed event.”
“James!” Nick lit up like a kid at Christmas, throwing his arms around the guy’s neck without a care in the world as to who was watching. “What the hell are you doing here?”
James embraced him just as warmly, clapping him on the back before pulling away to get a better look. “Well I couldn’t exactly miss your big party, could I?” An unmistakable note of sarcasm tinted the words, but he smiled brightly as he turned to me. “Hey, Wilder.”
“Cross.” Even trapped on a boat with hundreds of people I didn’t know in the middle of the Atlantic, my face melted into a genuine grin. The two of us embraced almost as warmly as he and Nick. “I was wondering if you were going to show up.”
James Lysander Cross IV was the eldest son of the wealthiest man in the British Empire.
Heir to a multi-billion dollar shipping empire, the youngest person ever to be knighted, and an international playboy to boot. In essence, he was the European equivalent to Nick.
In following with the tradition of the rich and famous (and neglected), the two of them had attended all the same boarding schools, both in the states and abroad. After a brief housing dispute—the likes of which rivaled the Cold War—they were even roommates for a year at Oxford. While the constant proximity would have made anyone close, the boys had bonded to a brotherly degree. Seeing each other through every impossible twist and turn life had to offer.
From the tragically regular divorces of their parents, to the exhilarating new heights of their celebrity, to a car accident that almost took James’ leg, to the death of Nick’s mom.
The two of them had gotten each other through it all. Making this sudden engagement of Nick’s—and James’ inadvertent exclusion from it—all the more unspeakable of a slight.
“If I was going to show up?” he repeated with a dazzling smile. “Well when I found out that my best friend was getting married—found out like everyone else did, by the way, by reading about it in the damn papers—I figured I might as well fly in for his engagement party. Wouldn’t want to be impolite.”
He and Nick shared a charged smile, before the latter hung his head in shame.
“I wanted to tell you,” he murmured, shaking his head. “It all just happened so fast—”
“Oh don’t worry about it,” James said with mock understanding, clapping him with a little more force than was necessary on the back, “that’s the way these things happen. Wait a
minute...” his lovely face furrowed with a frown, “...no it isn’t.”
“Mr. Cross! Mr. Hunter!” The three of us turned to see a columnist for the New York Times practically jumping up and down to get their attention. He was holding a camera, and looking like he couldn’t believe his luck in seeing two such desirable candidates together in a single frame. “Do you mind if I...”
The men stepped automatically together, flashing the man matching, pearly smiles as they continued talking through their teeth.
“You’re mad,” Nick summarized.
James smiled broadly, squeezing his best friend’s shoulder in a death-grip.
“Mad? What possible reason would I have to be mad?” By now, more cameramen had joined in on the hunt, and they angled their bodies toward the flashing lights. “I love finding out the details of your life from the press. I love dropping everything at a moment’s notice to fly out to your and Wilder’s engagement party. Which sucks, by the way.”
Wisely choosing to avoid getting in the middle of the dispute, I melted away to a safe distance—letting the cameramen have their fill.
On paper, the two men were a perfect fit. Both were educated at the finest of schools, had graduated with the highest of degrees, spoke multiple languages, and had more money than Donald Trump.
In person, they complimented each other nicely. One was all lights—golden hair, a jet-setters’ tan, and sky blue eyes. While the other was all dark—black wavy hair, pale European complexion, and eyes the exact shade of rich espresso.
It was a bromance that already promised to go down as one for the ages. And yet, only someone who knew the two very well could sense that something was currently off.
“James!” a messenger from the Chronicle called out. “Do you have any words you would like to say to the happy couple?!”
I spat out a mouthful of champagne, as Nick paled to a drastic degree. James, on the other hand, offered his most dazzling smile yet.
“That’s an excellent question, Norris! As a matter a fact, I do have some words I’d like to say to them.” He turned with great anticipation to the crowd. “I’d like to start by saying—”