11. Hallie
HALLIE
The rehearsal dinner is at the Riverside Inn, the only place in town fancy enough to warrant cloth napkins and a violinist who keeps playing "Canon in D" like we might forget what event we're here for.
White lights are strung across the patio, reflecting off the water, and everything looks like a Pinterest board come to life.
I smooth down the emerald green dress I borrowed from my sister, hyperaware of Caius sitting next to me, his hand resting possessively on my thigh under the table. Every time he shifts, his thumb draws lazy circles against the fabric, and I have to fight to keep my breathing steady.
We haven't told Ryan yet. We were supposed to, yesterday, but then there was the flower emergency and the cake tasting disaster and somehow we kept finding excuses.
Tomorrow, we promised each other. After the wedding.
When everyone's relaxed and happy and Ryan's had enough champagne to soften the blow.
"You okay?" Caius murmurs in my ear, his breath warm against my neck.
I nod, sneaking a glance at my brother across the table. Ryan's laughing at something the best man said, completely oblivious to the fact that his best friend is currently fantasizing about taking me home and peeling this dress off me. The thought makes heat crawl up my spine.
"Nervous," I whisper back, the word barely audible over the string quartet transitioning into something classical and romantic that I should probably recognize but don't.
His hand tightens on my leg, fingers splaying slightly wider, the heat of his palm seeping through the fabric of my dress. The gesture is both reassuring and maddeningly distracting. "About what?" he asks, his voice pitched low enough that no one else at the table can hear us.
"Everything." I turn to look at him, taking in the sharp line of his jaw, the way his hair falls across his forehead despite his obvious attempt to tame it.
He's wearing a button-down shirt I've never seen before, navy blue that makes his eyes look darker, more intense. "You clean up nice, O'Connor."
"You trying to get me in trouble, Miller?" His voice has dropped even lower, rough around the edges, and the sound of it does dangerous things to my pulse.
I meet his gaze, emboldened by the champagne I've been sipping and the way his thumb is now tracing absent patterns against my thigh. "Maybe," I whisper back, unable to keep the smile from tugging at my lips.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and I watch his throat work as he swallows. The air between us crackles with the kind of tension that makes my toes curl in my heels. Three more hours. Then I can drag him back to his barn and finish what we started in the library.
A fork taps against crystal, and the room quiets. My sister's fiancé stands, grinning like he won the lottery. "I just want to thank everyone for being here tonight," he starts, launching into what I'm sure will be a heartfelt speech about love and commitment and finding your soulmate.
I tune him out, focusing instead on Caius's hand on my leg, the solid warmth of him beside me. Real. This is real now. Not fake, not pretend, not some elaborate scheme to make my ex jealous.
Speaking of which.
Kyle sits three seats down, looking tan and smug in a designer suit that probably cost more than my monthly rent.
He caught my eye earlier when we arrived, gave me this condescending smile like he was amused by my little rebellion.
I'd flipped him off behind Caius's back, felt a savage satisfaction when his smile faltered.
The speech ends. Applause ripples around the table. The violinist launches into something jazzy and upbeat.
Then Kyle stands, pushing his chair back with a deliberate scrape of wood against polished marble that cuts through the ambient chatter and music.
My stomach drops so fast and so hard it feels like I've been shoved off a cliff, that sickening free-fall sensation when you know the ground is rushing up to meet you and there's nothing you can do to stop it.
"If I could just add something," he says, his voice carrying that smooth, European-tinged accent he definitely didn't have when we were dating.
Six months in Italy and suddenly he sounds like he's auditioning for a Bond film.
"I think it's important we're all honest with each other, especially at events like this. Celebrating love, commitment, truth."
Caius's hand goes completely still on my thigh, his fingers frozen mid-caress.
I can feel the tension radiating through his palm, the warmth of his skin suddenly feeling more like a brand than a comfort.
The muscle in his jaw jumps—once, twice—and I know he's clenching his teeth so hard it probably hurts.
"Kyle," my sister says sharply from her end of the table, her champagne flute suspended halfway to her lips.
Her voice carries that tight, brittle quality I recognize from family dinners gone wrong, from arguments about wedding seating charts and guest lists.
It's her warning tone, the one that says 'you're crossing a line and you need to stop right now. ' "Sit down. Please."
He ignores her, his eyes finding mine across the table. "I couldn't help but overhear something interesting the other day. At the coffee shop, actually. Two people having a very revealing conversation about their arrangement."
No.
No no no no no.
"What are you talking about?" Ryan asks, but he's looking at me now, confusion creasing his forehead.
Kyle's smile widens. "Your sister and your best friend made a deal. A fake relationship to make me jealous, and to get Caius's mother off his back. Isn't that right, Hallie?"
The table goes silent. Even the violinist seems to sense the shift, her bow stuttering to a stop mid-phrase.
I can't breathe. Can't think. My brain short-circuits, frantically trying to figure out how he knows, when he could have overheard, whether there's any way to salvage this.
"Is that true?" Ryan's voice cuts through the ringing in my ears.
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Beside me, Caius has gone completely still, every muscle tensed like he's bracing for impact.
"It started as that," I whisper. "But it's not fake anymore. We?—"
"You’ve been pretending?" Ryan's chair scrapes back as he stands, his face flushing red. "You’ve been pretending to date my best friend? And he’s been pretending to date you?"
"No!" The word bursts out of me, desperate and too loud. "I didn't… we just... we made an agreement. But then things changed, and now it's real, and?—"
"How long?" Ryan cuts me off, but he's staring at Caius now, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "How long have you been lying to me?"
Caius finally speaks, his voice flat and emotionless in a way that makes my heart lurch. "Since before the engagement party."
"Jesus Christ." Ryan drags a hand through his hair, emits a bitter laugh that sounds nothing like his usual easy humor. "I can't believe you. I can't believe either of you, but especially you." He jabs a finger at Caius. "You broke the code, man. The one rule. My sister is off limits."
"Ryan, please just listen to me for a second—" I start, reaching out toward my brother even though he's too far away to touch, my hand suspended uselessly in the spot between us.
But he doesn't even look at me. His eyes are locked on Caius, and when he speaks again, his voice has gone deadly quiet in that particular way that means he's moved past anger into something colder and more dangerous.
"Did you sleep with her?"
The question hangs in the air like a grenade with the pin pulled. I watch Caius's jaw work, see the muscle jump beneath his skin as he clenches his teeth.
"Answer the fucking question," Ryan demands, his voice sharp and cutting through the tense silence like a blade.
Caius doesn't hesitate, doesn't try to soften the blow or find some careful way to phrase it. He just meets my brother's eyes and says it, clear and direct and utterly damning:
"Yes."
The word is barely audible, but it might as well be a gunshot for the way it makes everyone flinch. My sister gasps. My mother covers her mouth. Kyle looks positively gleeful.
"It wasn't like that," I say quickly, standing so fast my chair nearly topples backward. "We didn't... it's not what you think. We're together now. For real. We love each other."
But Ryan isn't listening to me. He's staring at Caius with something close to betrayal written across his face, and I watch thirteen years of friendship crumble in real time.
"You used her," Ryan says, his voice low and dangerous. "You knew she was vulnerable after Kyle, knew she was hurting, and you took advantage of that to what? Get your mom off your back? Have some fun?"
"That's not what happened," Caius says, but there's no heat in it, no fight. He sounds resigned, defeated in a way that makes panic claw up my throat.
"Then what the hell did happen?" Ryan demands, his voice rising with each word.
Caius's jaw tightens, and when he speaks, his tone is flat, clinical even—like he's reciting the terms of some business transaction rather than describing what we shared together. "I helped her out with a problem she was having. We both got something out of the arrangement. That's all."
Wait.
What?
The words hit me like a physical blow, stealing the breath from my lungs.
I stare at the side of his face, trying to find some sign that he doesn't mean it, that this is just some misguided attempt to protect me or take the blame himself.
But his expression remains carefully neutral, almost indifferent, and that scares me more than anything else that's happened tonight.
I turn to stare at him, trying to make sense of what he just said. Why is he making it sound like it was just business? Like we didn't spend the last week and a half falling in love with each other?
"Caius," I whisper, grabbing his arm.
He doesn't look at me. His eyes stay fixed on Ryan, his expression carefully blank. "It was supposed to end after the wedding. That was always the plan."