Thirty-Eight
“Mom, if you say moist one more time, I swear to God—”
“I don’t understand why it bothers you all so much.”
Mom huffs, spreading butter over her dinner roll. “It’s just a word.”
“It’s a cursed word,”
Jeremy says, stabbing at his steak.
“Disgusting,”
Grace adds.
“A violation of the English language,” I say.
“Oh, please,”
Mom scoffs. “You’ll all be grateful for moist cake at the wedding tomorrow.”
Jeremy shudders. “There it is. Ruined. I can’t eat it now.”
I smile, glancing to my left, expecting Nathan to be sitting there, maybe even contributing to the chaos, but his seat is empty.
Right.
It’s scary how easily I got used to having him here all night.
He stepped out for a business call about ten minutes ago, which I barely registered at the time. Something about five minutes, sweetheart, a quick kiss to my temple, and then he was gone. But now, with the weight of too many curious eyes on me, I check my phone.
Nothing.
I tuck my phone into my clutch, forcing a casual smile before standing. “I’m just going to get some fresh air.”
The hotel terrace is quiet, lined with soft, glowing lanterns. A gentle breeze carries the scent of salt and citrus, mingling with the laughter and music drifting from inside. Beyond the terrace, a few stone steps lead down to the resort’s sprawling pool area. It’s pristine and empty under the glow of underwater lights.
And sitting in one of the lounge chairs, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, is Daniel.
I stop in my tracks, my stomach twisting.
He’s alone, sprawled out like he’s been there for a while. His tie is loose, the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone, and he looks…off. His shoulders are slouched, his brow furrowed, his jaw tight.
Maybe if I turn around now, if I move slowly enough, I can disappear before he even notices.
“You can come out of the shadows, Sienna.”
Shit.
I exhale through my nose before stepping forward, keeping my expression carefully neutral. “I was just looking for Nathan.”
He lets out a quiet huff of laughter. “Right.”
I fold my arms, my eyes flicking to the cigarette in his hand. “I thought you quit.”
He smirks, taking a long drag before exhaling toward the sky. “Yeah, well. Old habits.”
I hesitate, but against my better judgment, I lower myself onto the lounge chair beside his. “Didn’t take you for the brooding type.”
He glances at me for a split second, those familiar chocolate eyes sweeping me, and I wait.
I wait to feel it.
To feel anything.
Nothing comes.
“Maybe I’m just enjoying the peace,” he says.
I hum, looking toward the water. It’s calm, smooth as glass, reflecting the golden glow of the hotel lights.
A silence stretches between us—not quite comfortable but not suffocating either. It’s strange, sitting here with him again, with all the history, all the damage, all the years we spent circling each other.
Before I can let my mind wander too far, he speaks. “It looks like your new life suits you.”
I nod, smiling. “Yeah. I’m happy.”
He takes another slow drag of his cigarette, exhaling long and slow, watching the smoke curl into the night air.
I hear him let out a deflated breath, but I don’t look at him because I can already sense what’s coming.
“Do you ever think we made the wrong choice?”
Something in my stomach clenches. “We?”
His gaze flickers to mine, then back to the water. “Yeah. Me. I fucked up.”
I try my best to keep my hands steady as I slide my gaze over to him. “You seem happy with Lauren.”
There’s no humor to the laugh he lets out. “Yeah. We’re happy.”
It doesn’t sound like the whole truth, but it’s not my business so I don’t question him further.
He turns to face me fully, his knee brushing mine. The warmth of his skin seeps through the fabric of my dress, making me stiffen.
“She doesn’t know me like you did,”
he murmurs.
Seriously? Is this guy that delusional?
I bite the inside of my cheek until I can gather my thoughts. There’s so much more of the tip of my tongue, but tonight is not the place or time.
“These things take time. We were together for six years.”
I pause, then add, “But Daniel, we knew nothing about each other.”
His brows pull together. “You don’t mean that.”
I tilt my head, watching him. “Don’t I? I knew your favorite color. I knew your stories. But the things that mattered? The things I needed to know?”
I shake my head. “You were a stranger. We were strangers to each other.”
“That’s not fair, Sienna.”
There’s a bite in his tone I recognize, one that led to many arguments in the past, and I decide that I owe him nothing.
“I don’t want to do this,”
I say, standing.
But he doesn’t let it go.
Leaning forward to stop me, his voice is low when he says, “Do you really not think about it? About us?”
I exhale through my nose, forcing the words out. “I think about how you were fucking Lauren for six months before we ended things.”
My voice sharpens. “I think about how you slept with her in our bed.”
His face pales. “Sienna—”
“I think about how I let you make me feel less. How I let you make me question myself like I wasn’t enough.”
“That’s not—”
“Not what?”
I snap. “Not what happened? Because I was there, Daniel. I lived it.”
He exhales hard, dragging a hand through his hair before stomping out his cigarette with his shoe. “Sienna, I—”
“Lauren’s probably looking for you,”
I say, turning away. “We should go back inside.”
“And what? Watch you play house with Nathan?”
I stiffen.
He stands and steps closer.
Too close.
Like he has any goddamn right.
“Tell me, Sienna,”
he says, his breath warm against my skin, whiskey and cigarettes thick on his tongue. He’s drunk…or well on his way to being drunk. “Does he know exactly what spots make you scream?”
Rage ignites in my veins, quick and brutal until it hurts.
Before I can react, his hand moves, fingers brushing against my temple as he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.
My stomach twists.
“Because sometimes,”
he says, his voice lower now, laced with something dark and self-satisfied, “I like to close my eyes and pretend it’s you.”
This.
Sick.
Bastard.
For a second, the weight of it nearly floors me.
I was planning to marry this man?
This man who is nothing but a stranger now?
Oh, Sienna. At what point in that relationship did you hit your head?
The thought slams into me and snaps me out of whatever spell he thinks he’s weaving.
I yank my face away from his touch like it burns.
No more.
I spent too long doubting myself. Too long comparing myself to her.
Too long wondering why I wasn’t enough.
I let him make me feel small.
Let his betrayal chip away at my confidence until I was nothing but raw edges and unanswered questions.
I let myself believe that the only way to survive this weekend was to fake a relationship because, deep down, I was still afraid of what people would see if they looked too closely.
I am so much more than this.
More than him.
More than what he did to me.
I try. I really try to be the bigger person here. To just walk away. To not stoop to his level.
But this is years in the making.
I am done swallowing the anger.
“God,”
I say, shaking my head, “I thought it was me. I thought I was the problem. But now I see it so clearly.”
I flash him a pitying look, finally seeing him for who he really is. “You weren’t cheating on me because I wasn’t enough for you. You were cheating because you knew, deep down, you’d never be enough for me.”
His whole body locks up.
I see it. The way his throat bobs, the way his eyes flicker.
It’s the truth.
And it lands right where I want it.
Dead center.
Turning away, I take a few steps toward the path leading back to the hotel.
I should leave it at that.
I want to leave it at that.
My comment landed exactly where I wanted it to. Right in the hollow space where his ego used to live.
But my mother’s pettiness is woven into my DNA, buried deep and waiting for moments like this to rise to the surface, sharp-edged and merciless.
I stop and whip around. “Oh, and one more thing.”
Daniel’s brows draw together.
“I didn’t scream because I was so out of my mind with passion, Daniel. You always got insecure when I was quiet. So, I did it to stop the constant questions. The fragile ego stroking.”
His jaw flexes.
I sigh, the weight of every faked moan, every eye-roll-inducing Was it good for you? comes crashing down all at once.
“So, if you’re still closing your eyes and pretending it’s me? At least now you’ll know the difference.”
His face darkens, but I don’t wait for a reaction.
I turn to leave, but this time, his hand wraps around my wrist.
Bad fucking move.
Without thinking, I yank my arm free and shove.
He stumbles back, misjudging his footing, and falls straight into the pool. There’s a sharp splash, water sloshing over the edges, and I barely manage to step back in time to avoid getting soaked.
“Oh,”
is all I manage to let out.
He resurfaces instantly, coughing and spluttering, and all I can do is stand here, wide eyes and mouth falling open. Water crashes over the edge of the pool as he hauls himself out, his expensive suit clinging to his body, dripping onto the stone tiles. He looks like a drowned rat, all anger and humiliation, his hair slicked back from his forehead.
I don’t stick around to watch him gather what’s left of his pride or the retort I know is going to be strong on his tongue. I turn toward the steps leading back to the terrace, needing space, needing air, needing to put as much distance between myself and him as possible.
I don’t make it far.
Heavy footfalls approach from the other direction.
Nathan.
He steps onto the pool deck, still in his black dress pants and crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled up, no jacket in sight. His eyes flick from me to Daniel—soaking, seething, fists clenching at his sides—and then snap back to me.
Nathan’s entire body stiffens.
“What the fuck is going on?”
His voice is steady, but I hear the razor-sharp edge beneath it.
I open my mouth, but Daniel beats me to it. “You should ask your girlfriend.”
“Shut your fucking mouth. I wasn’t asking you.”
Nathan’s jaw tics. His shoulders go tight. His hands curl into fists.
Oh, shit.
I don’t need to see his face to know what’s happening. I feel it—the same barely controlled storm I saw when we were standing in his mother’s kitchen.
He steps forward.
Daniel doesn’t move, his drenched clothes dripping onto the tile, his eyes locked onto Nathan’s with a knowing look. Like he wants this. Like he welcomes it.
Nathan is two steps away from making that mistake.
I move without thinking, stepping between them, pressing my hand flat against Nathan’s chest.
His heart is pounding.
“Sienna,”
he says, voice taut with restraint.
I shake my head. “No, stop.”
“Look at me,”
I tell him, my own heart beating maddening rhythms against my chest.
His gaze stays locked onto Daniel.
I press harder against his chest. “Nathan,”
I whisper. “Look at me.”
His eyes drop to mine.
I see it then. The rage, yes, but beneath that, something deeper. Something protective.
I swallow, my palm still resting against his sternum, feeling the wild thud of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips.
“Did he hurt you?”
he asks, his eyes sweeping over me, checking.
“I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me.”
His brows pull together. He’s not entirely convinced, so I offer him a softer smile, my fingers curling slightly against his shirt. “I promise.”
He’s still standing rigid, but his hands finally loosen at his sides.
Behind me, Daniel lets out a quiet scoff, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
Nathan’s eyes snap back up.
I feel his body go taut again, coiled and ready to strike.
I step up on my toes, brushing my hand lightly over his shoulder, drawing his attention back to me. “It’s not worth it,”
I murmur. “He’s not worth it.”
His throat bobs.
For a long moment, he just stares at me, like he’s debating whether or not to listen, until finally, he exhales, his head tilting just slightly, like he’s seeing me again.
My shoulders release some stress when I see the corner of his mouth curl ever so slightly.
“Yeah, looks like you can handle yourself just fine.”
I smile back, but it’s shaky.
“I just want to get out of here,”
I tell him, my voice quieter now.
I risk a quick look over my shoulder at Daniel, whose lips are parted slightly, something flickering in his expression. Maybe he expected a threat. Maybe he was bracing for Nathan to swing first, to give him an excuse to fight back.
But Nathan doesn’t give him what he wants.
He gives him nothing.
No threats. No parting words. Not even the satisfaction of a final glare.
Just cold, calculated indifference, the kind that makes it clear Daniel isn’t even worth a second of his time.
He turns back to me, slides his palm against mine, and laces our fingers together like a silent promise.
He guides me away from the pool, away from him, away from everything that just happened, and I let him.