18. Serena
Serena
The condo lights were on.
Damn.
That meant he was home.
I stayed parked in my own damn driveway like a visitor, like someone unsure if they were welcome. Which was ridiculous—this was my place. I bought it. Decorated it.
Now it’d been overrun by a man and his cat.
My husband .
I hated that word. Not because of what it meant, but because of how easily it fit him. Like the role had always been waiting for him to slip into it. Charming. Carefree. And entirely too comfortable in my space.
I needed a buffer. Which was why it was perfect when Reese called me.
“No offense, Reese, but why are you calling me?” I asked, tone bone-dry. “Don’t you have other people to talk to?”
For some reason, Reese talked to me constantly since he became family. I thought Erik and Gigi were better choices, but he picked me. Begrudgingly I allowed it and I ended up talking to him a lot.
The rain had started up again, soft and insistent against my windshield. It blurred the edges of the driveway, made everything feel muted and far away.
“No offense taken,” he said. “But you’re a problem-solver. And I have problems.”
“That’s not news,” I muttered. I already knew what—or who —his problem was. “If this is about Laurene, I can assure you she’s more than capable of handling herself.”
He gave a huff.
“I didn’t say it was about Laurene.”
“It’s always about Laurene.”
A beat passed.
“Fine. But listen, I’ve been researching, and I think she needs to?—”
“No.”
“What do you mean no?”
I leaned my head back against the seat. “I mean, I am not indulging whatever hyperfixation you’ve developed this week. Noelle and Gigi will encourage that shit, but not me. Laurene is six months pregnant, not a Fabergé egg. Leave her alone and let her grow your baby.”
The silence stretched. A gravel crunch told me he’d pulled up to their house.
“I already caught her sneaking Turtles in the laundry room last night,” he said, as if confessing a felony.
I didn’t even try to hide my disdain. “Let me get this straight. You are panicking because your wife—who is carrying your child—wanted something sweet?”
“When you say it like that, it sounds bad.”
“It is bad, Reese. It’s deranged.”
A flicker of something warm curled in my chest. I didn’t like how human he sounded. How familiar. How much like me . Because deep down, beneath all his neurotic panic, was someone terrified of doing it wrong. Of failing the people he loved.
I knew that feeling.
I was sitting in it.
Still parked. Still not ready to go inside and face Miles, who was probably barefoot and comfortable and sipping something expensive, like he hadn’t just been forced into a marriage with a woman who was already planning contingency exits.
“I just—” Reese’s voice faltered. “I want to make sure she’s okay. I want to get this right.”
“Want to control the uncontrollable?” I murmured. The pot calling the kettle black.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
“It’s not control,” he finally said. “It’s…ensuring I get the outcome I want.”
“Are you sure I’m the only one you can talk to?” I asked. “What about a therapist?” Please keep talking, Reese…
He didn’t answer again. I stared up at my condo, at the glowing window upstairs—my office. Our office now, because Miles lived in there.
“You could always talk to Laurene,” I added, quieter this time. “Have you tried that? Clearly your daddy issues are coming out to play.”
“Says the one whose family has mommy issues?”
A pause. Then, begrudgingly, “Touché.”
“Did you talk to Miles yet?” Reese asked me.
“Not since this morning, why?”
“Nothing,” he said, then immediately started talking about cribs again, cutting me off.
The call with Reese came to an end too soon. It was comical watching him turn into a mother hen and freaking out over this pregnancy more than Lu had. But I knew my niece was in great hands.
I couldn’t stay in the car forever, so eventually I dragged myself out, and through the front door. I hadn’t lived with anyone since I’d moved out my parents’, and this… It was still an adjustment.
“I’m home,” I said, and I paused. I’m announcing I’m home?
“In here, honey,” Miles said, and I headed to living room and called out to him.
“I had some meetings with the finance team. We’re good to go on the renovations if we stay under—” I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw Miles’s face.
A deep, angry purple bloomed across the skin around his right eye, mottled with sickly shades of green and yellow at the edges, as if the bruise had already begun its slow, grotesque transformation.
The swelling was significantly worse; his eyelid, puffed and drooping, was almost closed, and a thin red line marked where the skin had split beneath his brow.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Miles said.
But it looked bad . Raw. Painful. My chest tightened, and for a moment, I couldn’t decide if I was furious or worried or wanted to cry.
“Jesus, Miles,” I said, circling the couch, rushing up to him. “What the hell happened?”
“It’s fine,” he said, his tone firm but not unkind. “I’ve had worse things happen to me.”
“Worse than this?” I shot back, gesturing toward his battered face. “People beat the shit outta you often?”
He winced—not at the sarcasm, but from some unseen throb in his face—and I instantly regretted it. Not enough to take it back, but enough to make my chest squeeze tighter.
“Sit,” I ordered, already turning on my heel and storming into the kitchen.
I grabbed a baggie, threw some ice in it, and wrapped it in a towel. My hands were shaking a little, so I had to pause before returning. Miles sat on the couch all casual, like it was a normal Tuesday.
I knelt beside him and held the makeshift ice pack up. “Here.”
He tried to grab it, but I wouldn’t let him. I carefully pressed it against his puffy eye. You’re acting caring, Serena…
“So, are you going to tell me about the fight or what?”
“Nothing to tell. It’s handled.”
“Don’t lie to me, Miles. What. Happened? ”
Did Jenese get to him?
With the cold compress on his skin, his eyes fluttered closed, and a thick silence settled between us. Doughboy seemed to have gotten over his aversion to me because he strolled over to us, brushing against me. I stiffened, looking down at him with a perplexed expression.
“I don’t like cats,” I said absently.
Miles cracked his good eye open. “What?”
“And they don’t like me. But Doughboy’s been nice to me lately. It’s weird.”
A smile ghosted across his lips. “You’re weird.”
I breathed out slowly, still holding the ice on his bruise. Still acting like I didn’t freak when I saw him hurt. I’m such a fucking softie.
“Miles—”
“Erik.”
I stared at Miles, unblinking, my brain trying to process the collision of disbelief and fury rising in my chest.
“Erik?” I repeated, my voice low.
Miles laughed, then winced. “He doesn’t look too pretty either. I wore his ass out too.”
I grabbed his hand to get the ice, then I was up and ready to go find Erik. Now.
Wait, why are you defending him?
“Whoa, wait, wait, wait. Don’t, Serena. It’s fine.” Miles grabbed my arm, bringing me back to the couch.
I glared at him, but Miles shook his head. “Don’t be mad at your brother for what we got going on.”
“He hit you, and I want to know why. ” I shook my head. This was bullshit. “Did you forget we’re married? We’re a team. We have obligations. I can’t have my husband walking around beat up!”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “But this isn’t about you.”
“Should I just shut my mouth like a good little wife?”
Miles stared at me with a small hint of a smile. “You? A good little wife?”
I forced him to take the ice pack and proceeded to stand again.
“Whoa, wrong joke. It wasn’t funny, I’m sorry. Just sit.”
I shook my head. “And Erik is not the type to just snap . Which means this wasn’t random. Which means you did something or he did something or both of you did something that I’m in the dark about.”
All we knew was Erik and Miles fell out, soon after, the whistleblower came out about his father and the two never spoke until now.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, his voice low and commanding, his face so close I could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.
The shock of his assertiveness froze me, but it was the heat—the undeniable pull between us—that had me forgetting how to breathe. My heart pounded as I stared up at him, his jaw tight, his lips inches from mine.
“Let’s celebrate.”
I lifted a brow. “Celebrate what?”
“I got a deal on supplies for the renovation. You said the finances are in order. We’re gonna fix the company and get the protestors off the front lawn.”
I sucked my teeth, looking back at the bruise on his face.
“Miles,” I started, softer now. “He’s my brother.”
“I know,” he said. “And he’s doing what he thinks is right. That’s who Erik is.”
His hand slid to my hip, grounding me. “He thinks I’m going to ruin you. Because of what happened with my family.”
My breath caught.
“Your brother’s just being protective.”
I made a face. “Erik has never really cared about me. I know he cares about Laurene and Gigi, but he’s never shown me love like them.”
This time Miles’s expression twisted. “That’s not true.”
“Believe me, it is.”
“No,” he said. “Erik loves you. Whether you see it or not, I know some of the shit he’s gone through with your mother. He’s protected all of y’all from a lot of bullshit.”
I was surprised to see anger on his face.
“It may look like he has it together, but he don’t. Trust me. He may be a horrible fucking friend, but he loves you all.”
“But you’re my family now. Can’t I protect you?”
What are you doing, Serena? Shut up.
“Serena,” he murmured, his voice softer now, but no less firm. “Promise me you’ll stay out of this.”
“He beat you up and now you’re defending him? What sense does that make?” I asked.
“Perfect sense. Now promise me.”
I gave a slow, reluctant nod.
“Come here,” he said gently as he went back to sit down on the couch.
I blinked. “What?”
“Just—come here, Serena.”
My eyes narrowed, wary. “Why?”
He didn’t answer right away. He sat, legs wide, elbows resting on his knees. The lamp by the window caught the edge of his jaw.
“Come here and stop asking questions.”
I sucked my teeth, and did as he said, but the moment I sat, he snatched me till I was sitting in between his legs, and I gasped.
“Miles!”
His fingers found the clasp of my necklace like they’d done a hundred times before, and before I could stop him, it was gone—just a cool absence on my skin where gold had been.
He set it gently on the coffee table, then moved to the earrings. “You’ve been wearing these all day. Bet your ears are sore.”
“They’re fine,” I muttered, my voice too soft.
“They’re red,” he said. And just like that, the second earring came off.
I hated how easily he handled me. Not rough. Not demanding. But with that annoying kind of care that made me want to cry and scream and melt all at once. He knew too much— still knew too much about me.
He leaned in, his breath warm against the curve of my neck. “Relax.”
My body stayed taut, stiff as concrete.
“This isn’t a good idea,” I whispered.
“I know,” he murmured, pressing his palms against my arms. “But you need to breathe.”
I closed my eyes.
His hands slid up, fingers grazing my shoulders, then paused at the base of my neck. He found the first pin in my updo without asking. Slid it out. Then another. Then another.
I swallowed hard. “Miles…why are you doing this?”
He didn’t answer right away.
The pins clinked softly on the table beside us as he removed them one by one, until my curls began to fall loose around my face, wild and uncontained.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s not right,” I said.
“I know.”
My heart squeezed, traitorous and loud. He shifted behind me, drawing me deeper into him, his legs bracketing mine, his chest firm against my back.
Then his fingertips moved to my scalp.
I didn’t expect the tenderness—the slow, circular motion, the exact pressure he knew I liked. My eyes fluttered shut before I could stop them.
Damn him.
I used to lie in his lap just like this. Sunday mornings. After board meetings. On days when I hated the world and he refused to let me carry it alone.
Back when it was easy.
“If anything, I should be doing this for you,” I told him.
“Shh,” he said.
Now it was all secrets and deals and pretending we didn’t remember what this used to feel like.
I told myself not to lean into it.
But slowly, stupidly, I did.
My body softened. My spine curved into his chest. And when his lips brushed the top of my head, I didn’t flinch.
I just breathed.