Chapter 20
TWENTY
LUCA
The sun is already low when Harry calls.
I’m sprawled on the oversized daybed by the infinity pool, one arm draped over Kai’s waist, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on the bare skin of his lower back.
He’s half-asleep against my chest, warm and heavy in the best way, breathing slow and even.
The ocean is a quiet rhythm beneath us. Everything feels golden and soft and mine.
Then my phone rings on the table.
Harry.
I sigh, but I don’t move right away. I press one more kiss to the top of Kai’s head before I reach over and answer.
“Yeah?”
Harry doesn’t waste time on pleasantries. “Sunset walk on the beach. Thirty minutes. Make it look romantic—hand-holding, close talking, maybe a kiss at the water’s edge if you can sell it. Paps are already positioned. Don’t fuck it up.”
I close my eyes. The irritation is instant, sharp. “We just got here.”
“And the numbers are good, but they can be better. Do the walk. That’s an order.”
He hangs up.
I drop the phone back on the table a little harder than necessary. Kai stirs against me, lifting his head.
“Harry?” he asks, voice still sleepy.
“Yeah.” I rub a hand over my face. “Wants us on the beach for sunset. Romantic walk. Hand-holding, the whole performance.”
Kai’s quiet for a second. Then he sighs and sits up, the sheet slipping down to his hips. “Of course he does.”
I hate the way his shoulders tense again.
I hate that this perfect, quiet day is being interrupted by Harry’s demands.
But I also can’t deny the small, selfish part of me that likes having an official excuse to touch Kai in public and let the world know he’s mine—to hold his hand, to pull him close, to kiss him under the sunset like it’s part of the job when really it’s the only part of the job I still enjoy.
I reach out and tug him back down, wrapping my arms around him tighter.
“We don’t have to make it feel fake,” I murmur against his temple. “We can just…walk and talk. And I’ll get to touch you. That part I like.”
Kai huffs a small laugh, but he relaxes into me again. “You’re impossible.”
“Only when it comes to you.”
We stay like that for a few more minutes—tangled, warm, and breathing together—before we finally drag ourselves up to get ready.
I pull on a loose white linen shirt and shorts. Kai wears a simple tank and shorts that sit low on his hips. He looks good. Too good. I can’t stop myself from stepping behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist again, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.
“Ready?” I ask.
He nods, but I feel the slight tension in his shoulders.
We walk out onto the beach just as the sky starts turning pink and orange. The sand is still warm under our feet. The paps are there; I spot two of them half-hidden behind palm trees and one farther down the shore with a long lens. I ignore them.
Instead, I reach for Kai’s hand.
Our fingers lace together naturally now.
I swing our joined hands lightly as we walk along the water’s edge.
Every few steps, I tug him closer, letting my shoulder brush his, letting my thumb stroke over his knuckles.
When the waves rush up and wet our ankles, I pull him sideways so the water doesn’t splash him too much.
He laughs—quiet and real—and the sound settles something warm and heavy in my chest.
I like this.
I like walking with him. I like the way he leans into me when the breeze picks up. I like the way his fingers tighten around mine.
I like him.
A lot.
More than I probably should this soon.
My phone vibrates in my pocket—once, twice, then a steady stream. I don’t have to look to know who it is.
Whitney. She’s the only one that sends rapid fire texts. A photo of Kai and me has probably hit the internet from today.
Over thirty messages now. I haven’t opened any of them since before our last show.
Every time the screen lights up with her name, my stomach twists.
I know I need to deal with it. I know I owe her a real conversation.
But right now, with Kai’s hand in mine and the sunset painting the sky behind us, I can’t bring myself to do it.
I shove the phone deeper into my pocket and ignore it.
Head in the sand. Like an ostrich. If I don’t look, maybe it’ll go away. Maybe the guilt will stay quiet for one more night.
Kai glances at me, eyebrow raised. “Everything okay?”
I squeeze his hand and pull him closer, wrapping my free arm around his waist as we walk.
“Yeah,” I say, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Everything’s perfect right here.”
He relaxes against me, head resting on my shoulder for a moment as we keep walking along the wet sand.
The paps click away in the distance. I don’t care. Let them take their pictures. Let them sell the fantasy. Because for the first time, the fantasy doesn’t feel fake.
It feels like the only real thing I’ve had in a long time.
And I’m not ready to let it go.
Not tonight.
Not yet.
The sky has gone deep indigo by the time we make it back to the villa. The sunset walk is done—hands held, shoulders brushing, a soft kiss at the water’s edge for the cameras. The paps got their shots. Harry will be happy. The fans will scream.
But the second the villa door closes behind us, the performance ends.
Kai lets out a long breath and rolls his shoulders, the tension from being “on” slowly melting away. He turns to me with a small, tired smile.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he says. “Wash the sand off.”
I nod, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his temple. “Take your time. I’ll be out here.”
He disappears into the bedroom, and a moment later I hear the shower turn on—the distant rush of water.
I stand alone on the deck for a minute, listening to the ocean, letting the warm night air brush over my skin. My phone feels heavy in my pocket. I’ve been ignoring it all day, but the unread notifications have been burning a hole in my mind.
I pull it out.
Thirty-seven new messages from Whitney.
All from the last few hours.
I open the thread and scroll.
The texts start angry, then spiral.
seriously? the bahamas with him?? you really did it. you’re an asshole
you told me it was fake
i gave you space
now you’re on a romantic fucking trip with him??
are you kidding me right now
i saw the pictures from the villa deck. you looked happy. you looked at him the way you used to look at me
was any of it real with us??
or was i just practice until you could have him
answer me, you coward
i loved you
i still fucking love you, and you’re throwing it away for him
he doesn’t even like you. he’s using you for the band. he will do anything to stay on top
you’re going to regret this
call me. NOW.
The last few are just strings of angry emojis and repeated demands.
I stare at the screen until the letters blur.
We’re not together anymore. We haven’t been for a few weeks.
But the history is there—years of on-and-off, of knowing each other since high school, of thinking maybe we could make it work someday.
I remember the good days: sneaking out to the roof of her parents’ house, laughing until we couldn’t breathe, her head on my chest while we watched the stars.
Those memories hurt now. Because they’re real. And because I know I have to end it cleanly. Kai is in the shower. The water is still running. I have a few minutes.
I hit call before I can talk myself out of it.
She picks up on the second ring.
“Luca.” Her voice is tight, already shaking with anger and hurt. “Finally.”
I close my eyes. “Hey, Whit.”
“Don’t ‘hey’ me. You’re in the Bahamas with him. On a romantic trip. After you told me we needed a break. After you said it was all fake.”
“It was fake,” I say quietly. “At the beginning. But things changed.”
A bitter laugh crackles through the phone. “Things changed. That’s rich. You mean you finally got what you really wanted. Him.”
I rub my forehead. “We’re not together anymore, Whitney. We haven’t been for weeks. You know that. I cared about you—I still care—but it’s over. For real. Even if Kai wasn’t in the picture, it would still be over.”
Silence. Then her voice cracks.
“You used to look at me like that. Like I was the only person in the room. Now you look at him that way. And I’m just…what? The ex you keep stringing along?”
“You’re not being strung along,” I say gently. “I should’ve been clearer sooner. I’m sorry for that. But we’re done. I need you to hear that. I’m not coming back. Not even if things with Kai fall apart.”
She’s crying now. I can hear it in the way her breath hitches.
“You’re an asshole,” she whispers. “You’re going to regret this. He’s going to break your heart because it’s not real for him, and you’re going to come crawling back, and I won’t be there.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But I have to try. I’m sorry, Whitney. I really am.”
She hangs up without another word.
The line goes dead.
I stand there for a long moment, staring at the dark ocean, the phone heavy in my hand.
The guilt is thick in my chest—not because I cheated (we were already over), but because I let it drag on too long. Because I hurt her. Because I wasn’t brave enough to end it cleanly months ago.
I exhale a rough breath and set the phone face-down on the railing. Then I push the sliding door fully open and step inside.
Kai is standing just outside the bathroom doorway, towel slung low around his hips, hair still damp and dripping onto his shoulders. Water droplets trace slow paths down his chest. He must have come out right at the end—close enough to hear Whitney’s last bitter words.
His eyes are guarded. Hesitant. But underneath that, there’s something else—a flash of jealousy that tightens his jaw and makes his fingers curl at his sides.
I walk toward him unrushed. “Hey.”
He doesn’t move. “You were talking to Whitney.”
It’s not a question.
“Yeah.” I stop a few feet away. “I needed to make it clear we’re done. For real. Even if you and I weren’t…whatever we are.”