Thirty-Three
Sienna
If there’s one thing I can admit, it’s that Jeremy and Grace nailed the wedding venue. The second I step out of Nathan’s car, the salty ocean breeze hits me, warm sunshine floods my skin, and everything looks like a commercial for living your best life: brilliant white sand stretching for miles, turquoise waves rolling onto shore, palm trees swaying.
I heave a sigh, letting my tense shoulders drop an inch because, for all the reasons I might dread this wedding, I can’t deny that Jeremy and Grace deserve the wedding of their dreams. They’ve spent the past year planning it meticulously, and it’s stunning. A perfect stage for them.
Hopefully, I can survive the weekend without all the cracks in my own life showing.
My gaze flicks to the group waiting near the resort’s entrance, and my stomach sinks.
Of course he’s here. Daniel, along with Lauren, and our old group of friends. The ones who used to be mine as much as his, until I left for New York. I can’t blame them for not keeping in touch. People drift when you pick up and move across the country. Still, I wonder if they ever heard the full story or if they just concluded I was the villain.
Nathan finishes hauling our bags from the trunk, and I catch myself reaching for him, like a nervous reflex. My mind flicks to the scorching kiss outside my house last night.
God, Sienna, get it together.
But my palm’s already brushing his forearm, and this time, it’s not an act. I need an anchor, and I’ve chosen him.
His eyes dart down to my hand, then to my face, but he doesn’t comment, just a small nod of acknowledgment. Together, we head up the walkway, the ocean breeze tangling my hair.
“Sienna!”
My father booms, getting to his feet from a nearby cluster of chairs. He’s decked out in a bright Hawaiian shirt that’s got pineapples on it because, of course it does. My mother stands behind him in a cover-up and wide-brimmed sun hat. Next to them, Jeremy and Grace are sitting on a low wall, sporting swim gear and casual grins.
Nathan steps closer, wordlessly taking my elbow as we approach. There’s a hush among the friends, some old faces I recognize from home, from shared memories I can’t decide if I miss or resent.
“Hey, Sis,”
Jeremy greets, bounding over and brushing his knuckles to mine. “Ready for the weekend of your life?”
I let out a tight laugh, ignoring the flicker of tension in Daniel’s eyes. “Can’t wait,”
I say, keeping my tone breezy.
That’s me. I’m breezy.
Yep, still going to die with the breezy attitude.
Grace beams at me, standing up to give me a quick hug. She smells like coconuts and sunscreen. “I’m so glad you’re finally here,”
she says softly in my ear. “We missed you. I hardly got to see you since you’ve been back.”
“Yeah,”
I manage, pulling away and forcing a small smile. I don’t dare look Daniel’s way, but I can feel him, the weight of his stare.
I wonder if in all our years together, he actually learned something about me. If he can see my tells. If he knows this is fake and I’m a liar.
Focus, Sienna, he’s not important.
My father gestures to the beach path. “We were just about to head down for some volleyball before the rehearsal dinner. Want to join us?”
Volleyball? My gut clenches. “Oh, I— I’m not really dressed for it,” I start.
“I have extra stuff if you need something,”
Grace chimes in. “Come on, Sienna. I want to spend time with you before everything gets crazy. You’re leaving again so soon, and this might be my only chance to hang out with my future sister-in-law without wedding madness.”
Before I can muster an excuse, Nathan interjects, “We’d love to join you after we check in.”
I whip around to stare at him. “We…would?”
He lifts a brow, ignoring the glare I’m shooting him. “We’ll drop our bags and get changed.”
Grace claps her hands, delighted. “Perfect! We’re on the north side of the beach, behind that big tiki bar. You can’t miss it.”
The group starts to wander off, Daniel leading them with a lingering, half-curious, half-sour glance at me and Nathan.
What the hell is his problem?
My father calls back something about “hurry or we’ll start without you,”
and they’re gone.
The knot in my stomach tightens, but at least the confrontation is postponed.
I know I’m going to have to speak to Daniel sooner or later, but I’m choosing later.
Nathan slings the last bag over his shoulder. “Volleyball,”
he says, casting me a sidelong glance. “You okay?”
I huff, rubbing my temples. “Not in the slightest.”
“It’s a beach day. We’re playing the happy couple, remember?”
I grit my teeth. “Right. That. I’m still holding you responsible if I get pegged in the face with a volleyball.”
“That’s what I’m here for,”
he says, stepping forward to guide me inside. “Face-protection duty. Now do me a favor?”
“What?”
“Smile. It won’t kill you.”
I force my lips upward, my cheeks sore.
“Ah, there she is, but maybe less. You’ll scare the children.”
Instead of responding with something coherent, I curse under my breath as we head inside.
There’s a wide, airy lobby with polished floors, palm fronds, and a whiff of citrus in the air. We pass a group of guests in swim trunks, balancing trays of cocktails, reminding me that normal people come here to relax.
I want to be like them. I want to be carefree, sipping margaritas, not dealing with the horror about to unfold at check-in because the second I step up to the desk and hand over my reservation details, something horrifying dawns on me.
Something I absolutely should have planned for.
The room.
The one I booked months ago, before I even considered needing a plus-one.
A room with exactly one bed.
Not two.
Not a pull-out sofa.
One.
Single.
Bed.
A cold wave of panic slices through me. My entire body lurches into a full-blown, this-is-a-disaster-code-red meltdown, but I’m determined not to let it show on my face.
“Ma’am?”
The desk clerk—an alarming ray of sunshine with a slicked-back ponytail—smiles up at me, waiting for me to confirm the reservation. I blink at her, mouth opening, then snapping shut like a fish on land.
I am not dramatic.
I am a problem solver.
So, I lean over the desk and drop my voice to what I hope is a discreet whisper.
“Hi. So, funny story.”
I force a grin so wide my cheeks hurt. “Turns out I need two beds. Like…uh…do you have another room with two beds? Or maybe a second room?”
She tilts her head, still smiling with a level of enthusiasm I find deeply suspicious. “Let me check.”
I exhale, relief flooding me.
Thank God.
That’s what nice resorts do, right? They fix your oversights and save you from abject humiliation in front of your fake boyfriend?
She clacks away at the keyboard, eyes flicking across her screen. Slowly, her grin dims, replaced by the apologetic expression of someone about to ruin my day.
“I’m so sorry,”
she says, “but we’re fully booked for the wedding this weekend.”
Fully. Booked.
For this wedding. The wedding I’m physically here to attend. A wedding that requires me to not share a bed with a man who makes my entire body sizzle.
My stomach plummets, but I stay calm. Logical. “All right, how about an upgrade?”
Her smile rekindles. “We do have one of our honeymoon suites available, but that also only has one bed because…well…it’s the honeymoon suite. Although it does have a couch.”
A couch.
I might be able to salvage my dignity and keep us at a safe distance. A couch is good. “Oh, perfect.”
I perk up. “I’ll take that, then.”
She brightens. “It’s two thousand dollars a night.”
I choke on air. “Excuse me?”
She nods. “It’s one of our premium honeymoon suites.”
I close my eyes and inhale, counting backward from ten so I don’t keel over. Meanwhile, Nathan stands beside me, infuriatingly silent.
I spin to him, lowering my voice to a whisper. “One bed. One bed. You don’t understand, we’re not—”
He arches a brow, that faint amusement dancing in his eyes. “We’re not what?”
The desk clerk’s gaze flicks between us like she’s witnessing a lovers’ quarrel. Probably imagining I want more space while he’s all starry-eyed for quality time.
I want to explain: No, ma’am, this is a business deal, not a romantic getaway, but before I can, Nathan slides out his credit card with the same nonchalance as someone buying a coffee.
“We’ll take the suite,”
he says, handing over the card.
“We what?”
I screech under my breath, but it’s too late.
“Of course,”
she coos, quickly running the card.
I gape at him. “You just paid four grand for two nights. For a bed and a couch.”
He pockets his card as if he just purchased a pack of gum. “You’re welcome.”
My eye twitches. “You could’ve at least asked me before selling a kidney. We could’ve tried… I don’t know, bribing the neighbors to room-swap or something.”
Nathan turns to me, eyes gleaming. “You coming, sweetheart?”
he asks, loud enough for the clerk to catch. “Or do you plan on fighting me in front of our audience?”
My entire body bristles. “One bed, Calloway. One.”
His lips twitch. “Good thing I sleep like a rock then.”
Oh, for the love of everything holy. I snatch my small bag from the bellhop’s cart, ignoring the pitying grin on the clerk’s face, and march toward the elevators, determined to pretend that this is fine.
This is totally fine.
A honeymoon suite. With one bed. And a couch. On top of everything else that’s complicated about this weekend, it’s not like sharing close quarters with a man who single-handedly ignites my entire body is going to end badly, right?
I blow out a shaky breath, jabbing the elevator button harder than necessary. Yeah. It’s going to be great.
In the reflection of the elevator doors, I see Nathan step up behind me, expression faintly smug. I glare at his silhouette. If he dares to make any more jokes, I might commit homicide.
When the doors slide open, I shoot him a daggered look. He raises a brow, pressing a hand to the small of my back to guide me in. I stiffen at the flood of heat that always follows his touch. My mind leaps to the memory of that kiss, the brush of his mouth, the press of his body.
No, Sienna, do not dwell. Behave yourself.
As the doors close, I cross my arms, determined not to meet his gaze, but I can practically feel him smirking.
Lord have mercy on my restraint.