“Oh man, I missed home,” she wheezed.

A hand landed on Keiran’s shoulder, stopping him from stomping over there to reclaim his best friend. He flicked a glance at Eric. “They tend to have that effect on people.” Eric sounded amused, too. “Nothing’s changed, I see. You two are still like oil and water.”

Keiran folded his arms. “Why’d you have to go fall for her sister anyhow? The island’s small, but not that small, man.”

“Love knows no rhyme or reason.”

Keiran scowled at his grinning friend. “That makes no sense.”

“Love makes no sense sometimes, but you roll with it when it’s the right for you person.”

“You’ll be insufferable these next few months, won’t you?” Keiran didn’t know if he could deal with this extra moony-eyed version of Eric.

“Having second thoughts about this best man gig? I’m sure Scott’ll fill in for ya.”

“No.” He wasn’t about to give Cherisse the satisfaction of thinking she’d run him off. Plus, he was honored Eric had chosen him, even if it meant having to plan the joint party with Cherisse, which he’d protested when he’d found out. A lot of good that did—but he was going to run with it and be the best at it. He’d already started making plans for the epic gift he wanted to give the bride and groom. Now that he knew Cherisse was the maid of honor, he was determined to top whatever gift she had planned. It wasn’t a competition, but Keiran would be damned if he was shown up.

“‘Sup, guys?” Scott greeted as he strolled over.

Scott “don’t call me Scotty, only I can refer to myself as such” Trim was all long, lean limbs, rich umber skin that was enviably smooth, ridiculously high cheekbones, and dark eyes framed by the longest damn lashes that he’d gotten hated on for back in secondary school. His tight black curls were trimmed low, the sides shaved down. Even with the pointy ears that Scott hated, he was ridiculously attractive. Keiran’s teenage crush on Scott had blindsided him, but he shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d gotten over it, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t silently appreciate the chiseled work of art that was Scott’s face.

He’d never seen Scott take a bad photo, ever. No matter the situation—awful fluorescent light included—Scott made everyone around him look like a potato left out too long. It surprised no one that Scott had done modeling in his teen years. He only did it sometimes these days, occasionally sending people into a frenzy by showing off his well-sculpted chest in carnival costumes for band launches, preferring to focus more on his role as Creative Director of his own company. He dabbled in fashion and beauty editing, too, also doing the makeup artist gig on the side. Keiran didn’t know how Scott juggled all these professional hats or when the hell he got to sleep.

Yet, somehow, Scott managed it all without looking frazzled. After a long session in the studio, without sleep, Keiran was liable to scare small children with how haggard he looked. Scott was always chiding them about proper skincare—perhaps he was onto something there. Keiran didn’t live that ashy life, but it couldn’t hurt to be more moisturized.