Faking Forever (First Wives #4)(25)

It was Shannon’s turn to squirm. She always prided herself on being professional, and being caught talking about a client smacked of indecency. There really were no words to excuse herself. But that didn’t stop her from trying. “I never thought I’d see you again. Or that Avery would put a face to my explanation of my weekend.”

Victor placed his hands behind his back, rocked on the heels of his loafers.

“I’m sorry.”

Avery shoved Shannon’s shoulder. “Oh my God, Shannon. What are you sorry about?” She turned her attention toward Victor. “I knew she was coming here to shoot a wedding. What would you expect her to say when I arrived and asked how it went? Lie?”

“You were really left at the altar?” Erasmo asked. “That’s rough.”

Victor continued to stare at Shannon.

Her eyes didn’t leave his . . . much as she wanted to crawl into a corner somewhere. The thought of people knowing her personal life, without her telling it, had her feeling sorry for him.

“Ease up.” Avery turned in her chair, almost blocking Shannon’s view of Victor’s quiet anger.

And the man wasn’t happy.

“What are you drinking?” Dylan asked in an obvious attempt to break the ice.

“I’m not.”

“That might be your problem,” Erasmo surmised.

Right before Shannon felt a second apology on her lips, Victor released a sigh. “Anything but mezcal. Seems I don’t tolerate that particular liquor very well.”

Shannon tried hard not to grin and failed.



“Don’t take this personally . . . but we need to take you shopping tomorrow. This office on the beach look thing isn’t working for you.”

Victor was pretty sure he was being insulted by a gay man he’d just met.

“I’m glad you said it,” Avery jumped in.

Shannon shrugged.

“Tell me you packed something appropriate for the sand.”

Victor blinked.

Dylan wouldn’t have it. “Okay. First thing tomorrow, we shop. Lucky for you, I know what I’m doing. Even for hetero men. So don’t worry.”

“I, ah . . .”

Shannon finally spoke, after nearly an entire drink and a shot. “If you hate the clothes, you can always burn them when you’re back in LA.”

Victor glanced at his pants . . . pants that were sticking to him with the heat and humidity smoldering in the air. Unlike any other hotel he’d stayed at in the past, this one didn’t have a dry cleaning service.

“Fine.”

“Good call.” Avery lifted her glass and ordered another round.

Seemed the five of them were taking up residency at the bar while most of the crowd found lounge chairs on the beach. Victor couldn’t remember the last time he’d met complete strangers and drunk with them at a bar just for fun. Anytime he was in a social situation with people he didn’t know, he had an ulterior motive. Finding new contacts, learning more about his competitors, finding clients on both the buying and selling ends of the recyclable goods . . . these were his top reasons for drinking in bars. He would meet with his brother every once in a while, or his buddies, but never complete strangers with no connection to his working life.

Yet here he was.

He’d learned that Avery was in estate sales for the wealthy. And that she’d recently married.

Erasmo was an investment banker in Portugal and Dylan was a physical therapist.

Then there was Shannon . . . the wedding photographer who sat across from him but avoided eye contact. She seemed genuinely embarrassed when caught talking about him. He couldn’t blame her, he supposed. He might as well get used to it. He wouldn’t avoid the talk when he returned home.

“Why wedding photography?” Dylan asked Shannon.

“I’ve always wanted to be a photographer. Weddings just kinda happened in the past couple years. I had a studio before my marriage but couldn’t keep up with it.”

“Why not?” Erasmo asked.

“Shannon was married to a governor,” Avery explained.

Victor had somehow forgotten that since he’d first learned of her political husband. He had a strange desire to look up her ex and see if he could find any pictures of the two of them together.

“That had to be exciting,” Dylan said.

“Sometimes,” Shannon told them. “Most of the time it was full of fake smiles, fake friends, insincere accolades from strangers, and a whole lot of gossip.”

Dylan reached over and patted Shannon’s hand. “Good thing you didn’t have kids with him.”

Victor watched a smile come and go from her face.

“A very good thing,” she said.

“Do you have a boyfriend back home?”

Shannon looked at Victor briefly, then played with the straw in her drink. “No.”

“The men in California must be blind and stupid,” Dylan said with a wink.

“Hey,” Victor said, reacting to the direct insult on his location and gender.

Dylan waved him off. “You don’t count. You were engaged.”

That made him feel marginally better. He considered Shannon with a tilt of his head. “I bet you intimidate a lot of men.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked.