ended up being just that. He’d quit right away when he’d re-
turned to London. His breath control had been all over the place once he was back in the studio, and his throat had felt so raw it could bleed. He’d decided that he needed to quit for himself, but 178
RAGE
he missed the comfort of nicotine sometimes.
As he listened to the bridesmaids complain about how ugly
their dresses were and watched Yara’s clockwork meltdown, he
could understand why Stephanie didn’t believe in weddings. He
couldn’t even imagine her in the role of blushing bride. It was
hysterical to try.
It isn’t weddings she doesn’t believe in, it’s marriage.
Trying to shake her from his thoughts, he focused on his
fellow wedding party members. Nathan and Saffron were having
a merry old time fondling each other and once again drinking
mimosas, and Bret (still in his clothes from the night before) was passed out in a nearby chair. His long hair fell in a black snarled cloud around his shoulders. He had his sunglasses on, so either
Yara hadn’t noticed he was sleeping, or she had simply grown
accustomed to having no social expectations of him whatsoever.
They were all waiting for the priest, and Phillip glanced
down at his Rolex. He hadn’t seen Stephanie yet, and he was
growing concerned that she might be sick from being doused
cold water the night before. She’d felt slightly feverish in bed the night before, or maybe that had been him.
He’d had to leave her bed. Once she’d fallen into a fitful
sleep, her robe kept slipping open and as she pressed her soft
warmth against him it had been too much for his dwindling self-
control. He had no doubt she would have succumbed to sex if
he’d initiated it, but it would have only made their parting more painful, and they’d both been through enough.
He glumly observed as Cheyenne and Scot came out of the
chapel giggling like a couple of school kids. Scot was fastening his belt and grinning that cheesy smile that sold a million teen magazines. He had a huge hickey on the side of his neck and
Cheyenne’s hair had a “just been screwed” look.
“You didn’t!” Yara snapped at them, her shrill voice carry-
ing on the ocean breeze. David chuckled and she slapped him
hard on the arm. With perfect timing, the priest appeared and
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started babbling in rapid Portuguese, and Phillip nudged Bret
awake.
Ten minutes later when Stephanie climbed out of a white
SUV, Phillip tried to ignore her startling beauty. She wore a
simple lilac dress and her hair was piled high on her head. He
wanted to beg her to change her mind and almost stood to do so.
He nearly fell over when Christopher Hoult climbed out of the
same SUV and handed Steph her camera bag. Christopher placed
his hand on the small of her back, and Phillip felt his jaw clench.
He could tell by the look Bret was giving him that his rage was
blatant. He unclenched his fasts and cracked his knuckles.
“Keep yourself in check, mate.” Bret pulled off his sun-
glasses. He had mammoth bags under his eyes, but the look in
them was uncompromising. Phillip managed a curt nod, but was
too furious to be able to speak. He realized his reaction was il-logical. He’d known she was dating Christopher, so it was hardly a surprise to see them together. Christopher obviously had passionate feelings for her, or he wouldn’t have had the balls to take Phillip on, since Phillip outweighed him by about sixty pounds.
“Phillip, Yara says you are walking down the aisle with
me,” Antonella cooed as she threaded her arm through his. He
was told she was one of the world’s most desired lingerie mod-
els. He thought she looked a little like a piranha, but when he
saw Christopher take Steph’s hand, he made it his mission to be
more open-minded.
They were there for no less than three hours, repeating the
maneuvers expected of them about ten times before Yara was
satisfied that everyone would perform like well-trained show
dogs. Stephanie circled them, looking at them through her cam-
era and dictating to Christopher who punched keys on her I-Pad.
By the time the band climbed in the SUV, Phillip was ready for a drink and perhaps ready to reconsider purchasing a carton of cigarettes.
“Who’s in the mood for a little fun after dinner?” Nathan
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asked, trying to contain a sinister smirk. Everyone groaned. Na-
than was always up to no good, and every night on the island had been a drinking/socializing marathon. Phillip wasn’t sure about
everyone else, but he simply wanted a tiny bit of peace and quiet.
“Quit being such a bunch of nancy boys. It’s David’s last
night of freedom. I decree a good time shall be had by all.” He
exclaimed.
“I’ve nothing better to do. What’s another night without
sleep?” Bret shrugged. Phillip thought he was starting to look ten years older than he had the month before.
Phillip sighed. He truly had had his fill, but he knew that
this was why he’d come. Davey Boy’s wedding was one long
team building exercise. “I’m in for couple of drinks.’
David regarded Nathan with unmasked apprehension. “Tell
me you didn’t hire hookers. I’d really like to keep my wedding
tackle attached to my person.”
“Would I do something like that?” Nathan laughed.
“Undoubtedly,” Scot retorted. Everyone snorted at that—
even Nathan.
“Nothing as untoward as that, Dave.” Nathan slapped him
on the back. “Saffron did hire strippers for the ladies, though.
Cheyenne’s hair whipped around her, and she noticed the
sky was overcast for the first time since they’d arrived on the
island. The wind had picked up considerably since the rehearsal, and she wondered if they were going to have to move the entire
banquet indoors. They were all seated at one very long table, like a hedonistic version of the last supper. Liam was trying to stuff a pea up his nose and Kara saved him from himself in the nick of
time.
“We always do ruin your good time, don’t we, boy?” Scot
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TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
laughed when Liam stuck out his bottom lip.
