25. Champagne Problems （And Other First World Disasters）
25
CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS (AND OTHER FIRST WORLD DISASTERS)
CONNOR
The thing about betrayal is that it comes in waves.
First wave: Shock. Standing in an obscenely beautiful nightclub, watching myself walk away, trying to process words like "marriage" and "legal" and "lying."
Second wave: Denial. Surely there's an explanation. Surely she wouldn't...
Third wave: The memory of her face when Will said “legally binding.”
She knew.
She knew the whole time.
"Connor?" Callum appears beside me, all deadly grace and careful calculation. "Perhaps you two should take this talk somewhere more private?"
I barely hear him over the roaring in my ears. The air is thick—too thick—like I’m breathing in smoke, like the ground beneath me isn’t real.
Ariana doesn’t anything. Doesn’t answer my question. Doesn’t move.
So I do .
I start walking, pushing through the velvet ropes, past the line of waiting socialites, past everything I thought I understood about trust.
About her.
"Connor, wait!"
Ariana’s voice cuts through the night air, but I don’t stop.
Not until I’m outside, not until the music fades into a distant throb, not until the Mediterranean breeze cools the burn under my skin.
"Please." Her heels click against the stone path as she catches up, breathless. "Let me explain."
I turn, and fuck, she looks beautiful. Even now. Even like this. Wild dark hair. Mascara smudged from tears I refuse to believe are for me. The sequined dress that started this whole mess.
“Connor, please.” Her voice is soft, desperate.
I should want an explanation. I should demand one. But what’s the point? The damage is done.
“You knew,” I say quietly, my voice steadier than I feel. “You knew the whole time.”
She flinches, and something in me cracks. I trusted her. That was the mistake.
“I was going to tell you,” she whispers. “I swear.”
I shake my head. “But you didn’t.”
She exhales sharply, her arms wrapping around herself like she’s trying to hold herself together. “I was scared,” she admits. “Scared of what it would do to your IPO, to your reputation. To us.”
I let out a breath that feels like it's been lodged in my chest for days. “You didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t argue. Because we both know that’s exactly what this is.
I trusted her.
She takes a step closer, her fingers trembling at her sides like she wants to reach for me but doesn’t know if she should. “I didn’t want to lose you.”
Something cold settles in my chest. “You already did.”
Ariana’s breath hitches, and I hate that it still affects me, that even now, with my heart in pieces, I want to reach for her.
She’s silent for a long moment, then she shakes her head, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. “You think I was manipulating you. That this was all just PR strategy.”
“Wasn’t it?” I ask, and she flinches again, like I’ve struck her. But I don’t take it back.
She swallows hard. “Connor, I’ve spent my whole life fixing things. Holding everything together. My mother—” Her voice catches, and she looks away for a moment before forcing herself to meet my gaze again. “I used to sit with her for hours, trying to remind her of who I was. Trying to be strong enough for both of us. And my dad—he needed me to be strong. No one else was going to step up, so I did.”
I don’t say anything, because for the first time, I realize how deep her wounds go.
How much she’s spent her life bracing for the next disaster.
“You say I didn’t trust you,” she whispers, voice raw. “Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I don’t know how. Maybe I’ve spent so long making sure everyone else is okay that I don’t know how to let someone else carry the weight.”
Her eyes shine, but she doesn’t cry. Of course she doesn’t. Ariana Bristol doesn’t fall apart. She’s the one who fixes things. The one who holds everyone else together, even when she’s breaking inside.
I drag a hand down my face. “Ariana?—”
“I love you,” she says softly, like she’s saying it for the first time. Like she’s just realizing it herself. “And I know I messed up. But everything else? The way I look at you? The way I feel when I’m with you?” She shakes her head, a small, broken laugh escaping. “That was real. ”
I close my eyes for half a second, letting myself feel it. The ache of wanting her. The pull of something that should be unshakable but isn’t.
But I can’t.
Because love isn’t just about feeling something. It’s about trust. It’s about knowing the person beside you won’t pull the rug out from under you when you least expect it.
And she did.
“I can’t do this,” I say, voice barely above a whisper.
Her breath shudders. “Connor.”
I shake my head. “You made a choice, Ariana. You chose control over honesty. Over me.”
Her hands curl into fists at her sides, her chin trembling. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“But you did.” I exhale slowly, my chest tight. “And the worst part? I didn’t even see it coming.”
She closes her eyes for a long moment, like she’s trying to hold herself together. When she opens them, they shine under the streetlights, and for the first time since I met her, Ariana Bristol looks small.
Defenseless.
But I can’t be the one to protect her. Not anymore.
So I do the only thing I can.
I walk away, calling a car.
And this time, she doesn’t follow.
My phone buzzes when I slide into the back of the waiting car.
ARIANA: I’m sorry
ARIANA: Not for loving you
ARIANA: But for making you afraid to love me back
I stare at the message, my thumb hovering over the screen.
Then I delete it.