I swallow hard, nodding a little too quickly. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

Harley clears his throat from beside me, not saying a word as he moves to retrieve our bags from the back of the truck, and Nash nods, but I can tell he doesn’t completely believe me. “Okay.” He claps his hands together, forcing a smile. “Well, the bus will be here in an hour to take us to the Speedway.”

“We’ll just drop our bags off upstairs and get ready,” Harley says with a curt nod for me to follow as he turns and leads the way carrying both our overnight bags.

“Y’all better get ready to eat my dust!” Nash yells from behind, more excited than a kid on Christmas Eve. And I laugh for what feels like the first time in forever, rolling my eyes at him. I know he’s just excited to drive a real NASCAR stock car, but there’s too much damn tension in the air between Harley and me. I can barely breathe it’s so stifling. I hope we sort our issues out sooner rather than later, or else the whole bachelor party is going to be a living hell for everyone.

Inside the house, the foyer opens up to an expansive sunken living area with a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading out to a sprawling deck overlooking the ocean. Outside, I can see Kevin, Seth, and a few other guys I’m assuming are Nash’s friends from New York, all taking in the view, and I can’t blame them. It’s spectacular. I want to say something about the unimaginable color of the sparkling azure ocean, but Harley doesn’t bother stopping as he continues up the stairs, clearly not as taken aback as I am. We make it to the landing in an uncomfortable silence. To the right is a sitting room with a small balcony opening up to yet another view of the water, and to the left is a door, which I’m assuming is our designated sleeping quarters.

“I guess this is us.” Harley breathes a little unsteadily, looking up at the door.

I nod, pushing the door open, and we’re greeted by pale gray walls, navy drapes, and crisp white finishings. Across the space, the floor-to-ceiling windows and doors open to another small balcony overlooking the expansive Atlantic, and I’m still enamored by the view. It’s a beautiful sight. But then my eyes move to the big bed in the center of the room, and my heart sinks into the depths of my belly.

“I’ll sleep on this,” Harley grunts as if he can read my mind, stepping around me and dumping his duffel bag onto the armchair sitting by the balcony doors.

I don’t know if I should be offended or not. I mean, he couldn’t have raced to the chair any quicker if he tried. I want to say something. I want to argue and tell him not to be stupid. We’re adults. And there are plenty of pillows to stack between us as a makeshift barricade if we sleep in the bed together. But I don’t say anything. I can’t. I don’t have time. Before I even have the chance, he disappears into the en-suite bathroom and all I can hear is the pipes as they come to life behind the wall, before the sound of the shower drowns out my thoughts.