11. Sienna
Sienna
T he morning came too quickly.
Warm light through the slated blinds, the quiet whoosh of the ocean beyond the glass.
Somewhere in the villa, the sound of Zach’s giggles rose and fell like music.
For a moment, just one, with my head still buried in the pillows and the blankets still pulled around me, I let myself imagine this was mine.
Not the room. Not the view. But the laugh, the life .
I don’t let people in. I don’t do relationships.
His words from last night pinged around in my head as if I were a pinball machine, and the illusion shattered in an instant.
I pushed up from the king-size mattress that suddenly felt like far more space than I needed, the weight of the day smacking me square in the chest.
It was Ryan’s wedding day.
Moving to the edge of the bed, I sat with my elbows on my knees, staring blankly at the wall like it might offer me any reason to not crawl back under the covers and scream into the mattress.
My dress was already hanging on the bathroom door, emerald, silky, and enough to turn heads.
My makeup bag sat open on the desk, curler, and hairdryer beside it.
Everything was laid out and ready to go.
As if preparation could make all of this any less ridiculous.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to breathe through the weight in my chest. It wasn’t heartbreak, not anymore, but it was something adjacent .
A pathetic echo of the pain of a relationship I was well and truly over breaking down, the memories almost black and white instead of screaming color.
But it felt weird in a way I wasn’t sure I’d be able to explain if Matt asked me how I was doing.
Today, the friend I thought I’d known like the back of my hand was going to put the final nail in the coffin of our friendship.
Today, the man I once thought I was going to marry, was going to marry someone else.
And I was going to smile like it didn’t gut me as I stood on the arm of the person he hated the most.
I was here for revenge and a paycheck, and as my mind started to drift toward Matt, I had to tell myself that again. And then again as I brushed my teeth, twice more as I pulled on my pajamas and wandered out into the villa in search of desperately needed coffee.
The scent of it hit me before I’d reached the kitchen, along with the sound of Matt’s low voice and Zach’s louder, higher one, both of them mid-debate over the best fruit to blend into a smoothie.
Zach looked up from where he was perched on the counter, dinosaur pajamas on, with Matt crowding him protectively to make sure he didn’t fall off. “Sienna! You like mangos?”
“I do,” I grinned. “Not as much as strawberries, though.”
Matt’s sneaky grin as he looked down at his pouting son told me everything about what side I’d accidentally taken.
He looked so relaxed like this — a soft gray T-shirt that could have been four hundred dollars or from the clearance rack at Walmart, checkered pajama bottoms, barefoot.
He was somehow exactly the same and so intensely far from the man I’d watched last night with a scotch in hand and candlelight flickering in his eyes, vulnerability cracking open in front of me like it surprised even him.
But he was still warm. Still loving with Zach. Still casual with me.
His head turned, just a little, just enough to catch my gaze over his shoulder, and gave a small, unreadable smile. “There’s coffee,” he said softly, tipping his head toward the full pot on the counter.
I nodded, thankful for the excuse to turn away, to do something with my hands.
The silence that followed between me and him—Zach was still babbling away—wasn’t uncomfortable.
It was just heavy. We both remembered dinner last night, both remembered him leading me back to the car with his hand on the small of my back with no one to show me off to, both remembered the way he’d lingered at my door for a startling second before he’d swallowed and said goodnight .
And it felt like neither of us knew what to do with that now that the sun was up.
“Sienna?” Zach chirped, his feet dangling off the side of the counter, Matt still crowding him just in case . I set down the pot of coffee and turned to him. “Can we swim again today?”
I forced a bigger smile than necessary. “We’ve got time. The… wedding doesn’t start until five, and I won’t need to start getting ready until one, maybe two at the latest.”
Zach grinned wide, triumphant, like that settled it.
“But,” I added, holding up a finger, “you’ll have to ask your dad first. He’s the boss.”
He twisted instantly, his little hands grabbing fistfuls of Matt’s shirt as he leaned in and looked up at his father with the most absurdly adorable face I’d ever seen, his hazel eyes wide and wanting.
God, he looks so much like Matt. “Pleeeeease?” he asked, dragging the word out like he knew it’d hit home.
“I’ll wear sunscreen, and I swear, I swear I won’t even cannonball! ”
“That’s exactly what you said yesterday,” Matt deadpanned, blinking down at him. “You cannonballed twice .”
He pouted. “I didn’t splash anyone, though.”
“You splashed me!” Matt laughed.
I snorted as I lifted my mug to my lips, taking a blessed sip of coffee, I desperately needed, and Matt’s mouth cracked wide into a grin as he wiggled his fingers against Zach’s sides, tickling him.
For a quick, fleeting second, Matt’s gaze flicked to mine, and whatever was between us from last night seemed to pulse in that gaze before it was gone.
“Fine,” Matt said eventually, faux-exasperation written all over his face. “But you’re taking a nap after. No exceptions.”
“ Daaaaa —”
“Nope,” Matt smirked, putting a finger to Zach’s lips to shush him. “You were up earlier than usual, and you want to exhaust yourself in the pool. That definitely warrants a nap.”
————
I spent the morning in the pool with Zach, both of us calling it quits as the sun started to reach its highest point in the sky. But only one of us took a nap willingly.
Matt woke me up around one-thirty in the afternoon with a quick knock on my door and an announcement that there were spare dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets on offer as well as pan-seared snapper, but my stomach had churned the moment I’d open my eyes and looked at that goddamn dress.
The last dress.
Emerald.
I’d thought it was hilarious when I’d tried it on at Regale.
I’d stepped out of the fitting room with it pinned in place and nearly laughed myself sick at how good it looked — tight in every right place, a slit up the side that bordered on illegal, and a neckline that plunged so deep it almost reached the bottom of my sternum.
It had been a joke. A petty one, one with a visual punchline to Ryan’s specific brand of pain.
It was a dress that looked like it had been stitched by the devil himself, in the same jewel tone as the engagement ring I’d asked Ryan for.
The one I’d never gotten.
But now, hanging there against the bathroom door, it didn’t feel clever anymore. It didn’t feel like power. It felt more like a dare I wasn’t sure I had the guts to follow through on, like I’d invited myself onto a stage I didn’t want to be on anymore.
But the bitter part of me, the sharp-edged and exhausted and angry version of me, whispered that I had to wear it. If I didn’t, he won — if I let myself hide, if I made myself disappear tonight, then Ryan and Lauren got everything they wanted.
A wedding without consequence.
An affair wrapped up in gossamer and roses and far too much gold.
Fuck him.
Every piece was perfect by the time I’d finished.
My hair, down and flowing tonight, pinned away from my face and flowing down my back.
My makeup, done and removed and redone, flawless, sharp.
My jewelry, bought on Matt’s card, gold and perfectly complementary, with two sharp points hanging from my ears. My heels, difficult to walk in.
I looked like I was dressed to kill.
When I finally emerged from my room, Margot was waiting by the door in her royal blue midi dress, the fabric sleek and pressed and starched, her grey hair swooped back in a styled bun.
Zach stood beside her with a stick of string cheese hanging out of his mouth, his back flopped dramatically against the door, looking absolutely adorable in his tiny black suit and emerald, green tie.
Apparently, Matt was color coordinating me with his kid , now, too.
“Look at you!” I grinned, crossing the space and squatting down beside him with about as much balance as a baby learning to walk. I adjusted his collar, tucking it back under his little jacket where it had popped out.
Zach wrapped his hand around the string cheese and bit down. “I look like a grown-up,” he grumbled.
“Maybe, but you’ll be the best-dressed one there,” I chirped, tucking a stray curl back behind his ear. I looked up at Margot, her brows halfway up her forehead as she glanced down at me in my dress. “Are we all sitting together at the ceremony?”
“You and Matt are,” she said. “I’ll be at the back with the little terror, here, in case he tries to make a scene. He’s not quite old enough to trust him to sit through the vows.”
I huffed out a breath. “Wish I had that excuse.” I stood on shaky legs, glancing back toward the living room, looking for Matt — but the rest of the villa was silent.
“He had to go down there a little earlier,” Margot said. “We’re meeting him. Ryan called about something-or-other.”
My stomach turned. It shouldn’t have bothered me, having to walk in without Matt by my side, but it did . The thought of being seen here without him felt like walking into a slaughterhouse as a fucking cow. “Okay,” I swallowed, trying to cover the discomfort prickling the back of my neck.