Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
Milo
Seated at a table with Ethan, I cradle a glass of scotch. A quiet smile plays on my lips as I watch the room. My gaze keeps drifting back to Sienna every few seconds, like a compass that only knows one direction.
She’s in the middle of the dance floor with Aria and their parents, the four of them moving in a loose circle. Laughter bubbles up from the group every few seconds, drawing fond glances and smiles from other guests.
Sienna looks radiant—alive in that bright, uncontainable way that always steals my breath. My chest tightens with something warm and deep just from looking at her.
Ethan nudges my shoulder. He’s leaning back in his chair, tux jacket off and tie loosened, wearing the contented smile of a man who just married the love of his life.
“You’re staring again,” he says, amused.
“Can you blame me?”
He chuckles. “Not even a little. But damn, Reyes… I’ve never seen you look at anyone that way.”
I take a slow sip of my scotch, letting the music and laughter swirl around us.
“She’s chaos and light and everything I didn’t know I needed,” I say at last, my voice low.
“She makes me laugh. She makes me think. And the way she looks at me sometimes… like I’m someone worth staying for…
it messes with my head in the best way.”
Ethan nods slowly, his expression softening. “That’s the real thing, Reyes. The kind that makes you want forever, even when it scares you. Aria did the same to me. One day I was just happy to be around her. The next, I couldn’t imagine my life without her.”
I let out a short breath, almost a laugh. “You know what’s funny? When you were telling me those stories about her, I genuinely thought she’d be too much for me…”
He grins. “And now?”
I glance back at the dance floor. Sienna spins Aria, and they're laughing so hard they nearly fall over. Her eyes meet mine across the pavilion, and she gives me an almost-shy smile that makes my heart stutter.
“Now I realize she’s not too much,” I say quietly. “She’s exactly right. It’s like we were made for each other. I don’t really know how else to explain it.”
I pause, the words feeling both heavy and true.
“When I told you last night that I think I’m falling in love with her, I lied.” I meet his eyes. “I am in love with her. I know it’s fast, but it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like I’ve been waiting for her my whole life and didn’t know it until now.”
Ethan’s grin softens into something deeper, almost proud. “Then tell her, Reyes. Life’s too short to wait for the perfect moment. Don’t let it eat at you. Tell her before it’s too late.”
Before I can respond, the DJ announces the first dance.
Ethan claps me on the back, then stands. “That’s my cue. Wish me luck.”
I watch as he walks toward Aria, takes her hand, and guides her to the center of the dance floor. The lights dim, a spotlight shines on them, and Paul Anka’s “Put Your Head On My Shoulder” begins to play.
Ethan pulls her close, one hand at her waist, the other holding hers.
They sway slowly, foreheads touching, completely lost in each other.
Aria’s dress sparkles with each turn. Ethan looks down at her as if she’s his whole world.
When the song swells, he dips her gently, and she laughs brightly before he brings her back up and kisses her softly.
Sienna slips back into the seat beside mine, her skin still flushed from the dance floor. Without a word, she reaches under the table and threads her fingers through mine. I give her hand a gentle squeeze, and in return, she answers with one of her own—tighter, more intentional.
We sit in comfortable silence, watching Ethan and Aria move together in the shifting light.
Their laughter occasionally drifts over the music, but we don’t speak.
Even after the song ends and the next few wash over us, we remain that way—hands linked beneath the table, in our own little pocket of stillness while the world celebrates around us.
Only when the next song begins to fade out do I finally push my chair back and stand. I turn toward her and offer my hand.
“Dance with me?”
Sienna raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “I thought you weren’t the dancing type?”
I chuckle. “I’m not, but I want an excuse to hold you close without everyone questioning why.”
Her smirk softens into something warmer as she places her hand in mine. I gently pull her to her feet and guide us both to the dance floor just as “Can I Have This Dance” starts to play.
I slide one hand to the small of her back and draw her in until there’s almost no space between us. My other hand holds hers, fingers laced. She rests her free hand on my shoulder, looking up at me with those honey-colored eyes that always make my knees weak.
She fits against me perfectly.
“You’re better at this than I remember,” she murmurs after a moment, her voice teasing but soft.
“I’ve been practicing in my head all night,” I admit, smiling down at her. “Watching you out there gave me motivation. Plus, I figured if I embarrassed myself, at least I’d get to hold you while doing it.”
She laughs, the sound vibrating against my chest. “Keep talking like that, and I might forget you’re usually allergic to dancing.”
“I’m allergic to a lot of things,” I say, letting my thumb trace slow circles along her lower back. “But not you. Never you.”
Her cheeks flush that pretty pink I love. She presses a little closer, her fingers tightening around mine. “You’re dangerously good at sweet-talking tonight.”
“Not sweet-talking,” I murmur, brushing my lips against her temple. “Just honest. You make me want to do things I never thought I’d do, like admit I’ve been thinking about kissing you again since the second we sat down to eat.”
She pulls back just enough to meet my gaze. “You’ve been thinking about kissing me?”
“Constantly,” I confess, my voice low. “But I’m trying to be a gentleman. At least until I can have you all to myself tonight. Maybe we could sneak away while no one is watching...”
She smiles until her dimples show. “A gentleman who wants to sneak away with me later? I love this version of you.”
“Good,” I whisper, resting my forehead against hers as we continue to sway. “Because this version is completely gone for you.”
Sienna bites her lower lip but doesn’t answer. We keep swaying through the rest of the song, the next one, and the one after that—our bodies pressed close, hearts beating in sync, the rest of the world fading into soft background noise.
Every once in a while, she looks up at me and smiles, and every time it hits me all over again how lucky I am to have met her.