They spent most of the drive arguing over what music to listen to, debating which nineties band was the best, and dissecting Savannah’s misguided love for One Direction. She insisted that Harry Styles was the best, and Clay could only agree because he’d banged Taylor Swift.

Due to frequent pit stops for snacks and the fact that it was Memorial Day weekend, so traffic was atrocious, their five-hour drive turned into six, and they rolled into Hilton Head Island in the middle of the afternoon. It was already boiling hot, and the air was so humid that he could practically drink it. The smell of sea salt was in the air, and both he and Savannah were jittery while driving through downtown toward the sandy beaches.

Truly, Memorial Day weekend was the worst possible time for them to be here, but it meant they would get to stay here on Monday before driving back home. Traffic was bumper-to-bumper on the little island, and they inched along, fighting to get to their beach house.

Clay had been to Andrea’s beach house nearly as many times as his own. Every summer since he was twelve, they’d skirted the beach that occupied the short distance between their two places, disappearing in and out of each other’s houses, making the other a part of their family, no matter how messed up it became.

Andrea’s mom, Cathleen, had gotten the house in the divorce, and when she’d remarried a year after divorcing Andrea’s father, Rupert, Andrea and Clay had had to deal with her two younger stepsiblings. The only person in her family whom she still talked to was her mother, and Clay knew that was only on her terms. When Cathleen called, that usually meant trouble. Her father had remarried a few years later to someone roughly Andrea’s age, and they’d never reconciled their differences. From the start, she had said that the only thing she got from her dad was her last name.

Having Hilton Head dredge up all these old memories made him uneasy. And miss her all the more.

While he’d always felt like he was in Brady’s shadow, he had never thought about how he had been the one to really give Andrea a family. No rings or big wedding plans, but she had clearly become a Maxwell long before that thought had ever entered her mind.

He pulled into the driveway to Andrea’s whitewashed beach house and parked the car.

“Thank God we’re here,” Savannah said, hopping out of the car. She grabbed her purse, slung it over her head, and then started collecting her backpack and bag of snacks from the backseat.

He unbuckled his seat belt and popped his own door open. It felt like a lifetime ago since he had last been here. If only he could go back to that time when he’d been so naive and tell that little kid not to be such an idiot when it came to this beautiful girl…

Nah, it wouldn’t have mattered. He hadn’t been that jaded yet…and neither had she.

Clay pressed the button to pop the trunk and helped Savannah take out her giant suitcase. “What do you have in here?” he asked with a grunt. “Bricks?”

“Just the essentials!”

Clay closed the trunk, and when he glanced back up at the door, two beautiful blondes were staring back at him. Liz was in nothing but a red string bikini and white cutoff shorts that made her curvy body look fucking amazing. But Andrea was what stole his breath.

Fuck.

She had on a hot-pink strapless bikini. Her blonde hair rippled down over one shoulder. Even from a distance, he couldn’t help but admire every inch of her milky-white skin. And it took a lot of self-control not to storm right over, throw her over his shoulder, and take her upstairs to fuck her brains out until she forgave him. The caveman inside him begged to be unleashed.

Fuck it.

Savannah put her hand on his arm and shook her head almost imperceptibly. How the hell did she know what I was thinking? Is it written all over my face?

Because, right now, all he could think about was Andrea. All the old familiar emotions and memories sprang up between them. He didn’t understand how she could just stand there and not feel the heat radiating between them. It was like a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode.

Their eyes met and, fuck, if he didn’t want to make things right with this woman. He’d been sure that all was lost. But how could it be lost? How could all this history just disappear?

He hadn’t slept with anyone the night of the inauguration, and he hadn’t slept with Gigi. He didn’t know what he had to do to prove to Andrea that he was the man for her…but he’d do it.

Andrea seemed taken aback by the intensity of his gaze, bit her lip, and then slipped back into the house. He deflated, but Liz was already barreling down the stairs toward him.

“I’m getting married next weekend. I’m getting married next weekend!” she cried.

“So I’ve heard,” Clay said, pulling her in for a hug.

Savannah started wheeling her massive suitcase over to the front of the house, leaving Liz and Clay alone to talk.

“Gah, how excited are you for the wedding?” Liz leaned back onto the trunk of his car and tapped the back twice. “Kind of a downgrade from your normal ride, isn’t it?”

Clay laughed. “The car is for trips. Better gas mileage and good for the environment. I heard you’re big on that.”

Liz brightened. “That’s true. Good for you!”

“And, to answer your question, it’s clear I’m not as excited as the bride.”

“Bride,” she breathed. “That word. Can you believe Brady and I are tying the knot?”

“Nope. Not at all. Pretty sure I tried to prevent that at every turn.”

Liz laughed and just shook her head. “So, what are your plans for Brady? You’ll watch over him, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. He’ll be fine. We don’t really have plans.”

“Strippers?” she asked curiously.

Or was it interest in her voice? He never could tell with Liz. Things that might piss off most girlfriends would go over her head. And then, sometimes, things that didn’t bother anyone else would piss her off.

“You volunteering?”

Liz rolled her eyes. “You wish.”

“Got me there.”

“It would be Victoria, if any of us,” Liz said about her crazy voluptuous best friend whom he’d heard was wild in bed.

“I’ll have to give that a go.” He winked at her.

“One, she’s taken, and two, you couldn’t handle her.”

“We’ll see about that. I bet I could give her a run for her money.”