3. Lily
Lily
T he gentle movements of the waves against the shore feel like a direct contrast to the storm brewing in my chest, stopping me from taking a full breath. I scan the beach in front of me, watching all the people, my nerves feeling raw at their happiness.
Palm fronds above my head rustle in the warm breeze, and a strand of hair blows across my face. I shove it away impatiently, listening as Sasha mutters every kind of curse word she can think of.
“What kind of asshole calls any woman sweetheart, when she isn’t his wife or partner?” she hisses. “A moron, that’s who. And he was talking to Silvia? You’re sure?”
I dig my toes into the gritty sand, blinking back the water in my eyes. “It was definitely her.” There’s a loud silence, broken only by her rage-filled breathing. I can picture her, dark hair tied back and hazel eyes flashing, her nose flaring like a bull who’s about to charge.
The image makes my mouth twitch, as if my lips want to smile but can’t.
“Maybe—” she sucks in a whistling breath, something thumping in the background. “Maybe you misunderstood.” The words come out gritted, like she’s got her teeth clenched.
I look up at the sky, searching for clarity where there is none.
“I keep hearing him say you need to trust me,” I say instead.
“Like she’s in on a secret that I’m not.
He shouldn't have secrets with another woman, Sash. Friend or not.” I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately willing the tears back.
“He shouldn’t be talking to another woman when we’re three days into our honeymoon.
My husband shouldn’t be calling anyone else sweetheart, like she… like she means something to him.”
“I know, Lily.” Her voice is soft, full of hurt. “Declan is…” she falters, but then pushes on. “He loves you. Anyone can see that.” She forces strength into her voice, as if she can convince us both that this is okay. “Do you really think he’s that good of an actor? To fool you and everyone else?”
“He didn’t sound like the man I married,” I admit painfully. “He sounded… different. Colder. He said he was going to end it. What else could he have been talking about but me, right? About us?”
“You can’t guess about this, Lily. You need to know for sure, especially if you’re thinking of doing something drastic.”
I know she’s trying to talk me down, to keep me calm and get me to move logically, but…
“He was making plans with her, Sasha! Plans where he gets back from our honeymoon and goes straight to her. It sounded like…” It feels like I’m swallowing glass, and I force the next words out.
“It sounded like they were…” I can’t bring myself to finish the sentence, but I don’t need to when Sasha inhales sharply.
“You think he’s cheating on you?” Her voice is a whip of sound through the phone, so loud there’s a slight crackle. “With Silvia?”
“What else could he have meant by all that?” I demand, but then fall silent, waiting for a couple walking to pass by, their hands tucked around each other’s waists. “She’s always hated me, and maybe now we know why.”
There’s a taut silence. “We need more information before we go assuming anything.” It’s a reluctant admission, and I don’t disagree with it.
But I don’t agree, either.
Instead, I ask, “But what do I do right now?” I hate the lost note to my voice, knowing she’ll hear it and understand. We’ve been friends since middle school and, apart from my father, no one knows me better than her.
She sighs softly. “You can confront him now, ask him what’s what, but if you’re wrong about what you heard…”
“So what? I just wait for him to actually go to her?”
She makes a soft noncommittal sound, like she doesn’t like that plan, either. “I guess. And then you demand some answers.”
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper, hugging my knees to my chest and resting my chin on them.
“You get your shit in order, Lily, and fake it ‘til you make it. Put his acting to shame, and pretend nothing is amiss until you get home.”
“And then?”
“You find out the truth. And if it’s what you suspect, you get the fuck away from Declan Masters.”
I sniffle quietly, my emotions finally overwhelming me. My left hand lies limply in my lap, the diamonds on the silver bands gleaming at me, mocking me.
“I thought he was my forever,” I whisper, clenching my hand into a fist and looking away. “I thought—” My voice cracks and I clamp my lips shut, unwilling to give in to the swell of emotion, knowing if I do, I won’t be able to lock it back down.
“I know,” she says soothingly. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get you through this.”
My phone buzzes in my hand and I pull it away from my ear, finding a new message from my husband.
Declan: Hey baby, where are you? Our reservation’s in an hour.
Putting the phone back to my ear, I murmur, “I have to go. He’s looking for me.”
Sasha firms up her voice, telling me, “You have this, Lil.”
“It doesn’t feel like it, Sash. I feel like a crumpled, broken doll.”
“Well, you do and you aren’t.” She sounds huffy now, and I can’t help the smile. “And as soon as you get back, I’ll tape you back together?—”
“I thought I wasn’t a broken doll,” I interrupt, but she ignores me.
“And we’ll drink tequila until our faces are numb and we’re puking our guts out.”
My phone vibrates again with another message from Declan, telling me he’s getting worried, so I reluctantly end the call with Sasha, standing and brushing the sand off my legs.
Knowing I’ll never feel the same about Hawaii again.
I give the beach one last wistful look, and then I head back to the resort, gearing up to face my husband.
I’m glad we decided to try a new restaurant for dinner tonight, but the atmosphere of this one is more intimate.
Too intimate. The overhead lighting is muted, casting shadows into the corners, and candles flicker from the center of each table.
It’s quiet enough that the murmurs of the other patrons seem far away, giving us the semblance of solitude, but I’m struggling to look Declan in the eye.
Each bite tastes like ash in my mouth, making it hard to swallow.
Declan finishes his mouthful. “Is something wrong with your food?” He eyes my full plate of pasta with a frown.
“No.” I sip delicately at my Chardonnay. The crisp, chilled liquid slides down my throat almost too easily. “Just got too much sun today, I think.”
He finishes eating and lays his cutlery down, still watching me curiously.
“Should’ve stayed and napped with me.” With a soft chuckle, he reaches across the table, clasping my hand in his.
I forcibly lower my shoulders, using every ounce of my self-control to stop myself from snatching my hand from his grip.
“We can have an early night,” he says suggestively, thumb brushing over my knuckles.
My eyes drop to the movement as he smooths it over my wedding rings, just like he did the night before.
My chest goes tight, my breath catching in my throat, and I want to yank my hand away, to rip the rings off and throw them at him.
“What do you say?” he continues, oblivious. “We can get dessert to go, snuggle up in bed and put a movie on.” I look up, his chocolate eyes heating as they lock with mine.
Before today, that would’ve been all it took—one molten look, a stroke of his skin against mine, the way he rubs his thumb over his full lower lip, and he knows it.
He’s made an art form of studying my body and my reactions to him, learning exactly what to do to make me breathless, panties damp and lust flaring sharp and hot in my chest.
Now, I just feel like ice is sliding through my veins, my hand lying limply in his as his conversation with Silvia echoes in my ears. I lower my lashes, desperate to hide from his watching eyes.
“Sorry, Dec,” I murmur. “I think I’d rather just sleep. I’ve got this horrible headache.”
Through my lashes, I see his brows dip down, his desire morphing into concern. “You’re not getting sick, are you?” He leans closer, his hand lifting from mine as if he’s about to touch my forehead. I casually shift back, pretending like I didn’t see, and swap my wine for a glass of water.
“No,” I say quietly. “Just too much sun, like I said. And everything’s catching up with me, I think.” I smile wanly. “It’s been a rough few weeks.”
He sinks back into his seat, his frown easing slightly. “You definitely put your all into planning the wedding. It was an amazing day.”
I hum a small noise of agreement, eyes roving around the restaurant, desperately looking for a place to focus that isn’t him.
“Everyone said they had an amazing time.” A devilish imp lifts its head, pushing me to add, “Even Silvia looked like she had fun.” I look back at him, flashing a small, unassuming smile.
He shrugs, his jaw going tight. “I didn’t notice.” The words feel false, but I’m not sure if it’s because I’m reading too much into it. I’ve never been worried about his friendship with Silvia. Not until now.
I’m not typically an insecure person, and I think it’s entirely possible for men and women to have platonic friendships.
Even when Silvia was shooting subtle digs at me, making acidic comments designed to slice straight at my self-esteem, I hadn’t thought there was anything between them.
Declan has always treated her like everyone else.
Now, I’m looking back at our entire relationship through a new lens, wondering when the betrayal started, or if we had ever been real. I think of all the times he worked late, of every canceled date and trip away, every excuse he’d ever given me.
Had he actually been with her?
Did he think about her while he was with me?
Did he fuck me imagining Silvia’s face?
The wine sits uncomfortably in my empty stomach, and it cramps, my mouth filling with saliva. I must have grimaced, because Declan’s up and striding around the table. He gently clasps my elbow and pulls me up.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you out of here.”
Floundering for an excuse to pull away from him and coming up blank, I let him lead me out of the restaurant and back to the resort, wondering how the hell one day— one conversation —can ruin everything.