Chapter 6
Sara returned to the honeymoon villa with her phone in her hand and a lie already waiting on her tongue.
She hated how easily it came now. An hour ago, lying to Brayden would have made her stomach twist with guilt.
Now it felt practical, like applying lipstick over a split lip because people were about to take pictures.
Brayden was on the terrace when she entered, shirt half-buttoned, sunglasses hooked into the open collar, his phone held at arm’s length as he checked his own face in the camera.
The ocean behind him was violently blue, the kind of blue that looked fake until a person stood in front of it and became fake too.
“There you are,” he said, dropping the phone onto the table with just enough force to show irritation without fully committing to it. “I was about to send a search party.”
Sara set her small clutch on the console and kept her expression soft. “Sorry. I needed a minute. The brunch was more emotional than I expected.”
His face changed immediately, smoothing into handsome concern. “Baby.”
He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. Yesterday, she would have folded into him. Yesterday, the scent of his cologne would have made her feel chosen. Today, she thought about Villa 8. She let him hold her anyway.
His hand slid up her back. “You should have told me. I would’ve come.”
“You were busy.”
“Never too busy for my wife.” He kissed the top of her head.
Sara stared over his shoulder at the wedding dress still hanging from the wardrobe door.
Her mother had cried over that dress. Abbie had smuggled champagne into the bridal suite while Sara’s stylist pinned her veil.
Brayden had turned around at the altar and looked at her like she was the only woman in the world. Or maybe that had been performance too.
He pulled back and touched her chin. “You okay?”
No.
“Yes,” she said.
“Good.” His relief came too quickly. “Because I need my girl glowing for this shoot. The resort team gave us the private cove at five, and Camila from Lumin is going to be watching the raw clips.”
“Lumin?”
“The travel brand.” He looked at her like he had explained this before. Maybe he had. “They loved the wedding content. If the honeymoon series hits, they might expand the partnership. Think villa tour, couple Q and A, maybe a ‘how we knew’ reel.”
Sara studied his face while he talked. He looked excited. Not guilty. Not wrecked by what he’d done. His eyes were bright, his smile easy, his body loose with the pleasure of opportunity.
“How we knew,” she repeated.
“Yeah. People eat that up.” Brayden walked to the bed and lifted a garment bag. “I had the stylist steam the white silk set. The one with the wrap skirt. It reads bridal but still sexy.”
Sara looked at the bag. “You picked my outfit?”
“For the shoot.” He gave a laugh, already impatient. “Don’t make it weird. You looked amazing in it when you tried it on.”
“Brooklyn will be there?”
His hands paused on the zipper for half a second. “What?”
“The influencers. Are they coming to the cove?”
“Some of them. For behind-the-scenes stuff.” His smile returned, thinner now. “Brooklyn might stop by. She’s good with angles, actually.”
“I’m sure she is.”
Brayden’s eyes sharpened. “Sara.”
She turned toward the vanity and picked up her pearl earrings. “What?”
“I thought we were okay.”
“We are.”
“You’re doing that thing.”
“What thing?”
“Where you sound sweet but make me feel like I’m on trial.”
Sara met his eyes in the mirror. For one dangerous second, she wanted to say it all.
She wanted to ask him whether Brooklyn had kissed him before or after mocking her in that villa.
She wanted to know if he had thought of the vows while his mouth was on another woman’s.
She wanted to rip the groom’s hoodie off Brooklyn’s body and throw it into the ocean.
Instead, she put on the earrings. “I’m getting ready,” she said. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Brayden watched her for a moment, then came up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. The mirror framed them like a perfect newlywed portrait. New bride in pale silk. Handsome groom leaning close. Ocean light behind them.
His lips brushed her temple. “That’s my wife.”
Sara looked at his hand in the mirror. The wedding ring was back on his finger, gleaming where everyone could see it. Of course it was. Brayden knew which props belonged in public.
This time, the words didn’t burn. They clarified.
The private cove was decorated like a fantasy.
White umbrellas, pale linen cushions, a low table scattered with tropical flowers, champagne sweating in silver buckets, and a photographer crouched barefoot in the sand.
Two resort staff members stood nearby with trays of untouched fruit and sparkling water.
Brayden’s influencer friends gathered at the edge of the setup, filming little pieces of paradise as if paradise had asked to be branded.
Brooklyn stood with them in a lemon-yellow dress that clung to her body like the sunlight wanted to keep her. She was no longer wearing Brayden’s hoodie. She had used it to mark territory and then discarded it before anyone could call it evidence.
“Mrs. Ellis,” Brooklyn said, smile bright enough to cut glass. “You look precious.”
Abbie, who had appeared ten minutes earlier in a coral dress and murderously oversized sunglasses, made a soft choking sound behind Sara.
Sara smiled back. “Thank you. You look comfortable.”
Brooklyn’s eyes glinted. “I always am.”
Brayden slid an arm around Sara’s waist. “Okay, everyone, we’re keeping this intimate. Romantic. Natural. Think first day of forever.”
Sara almost laughed. The photographer positioned them near the water. Brayden cupped her face. Sara leaned into him. The camera clicked. He kissed her cheek. The camera clicked again. His hand settled at the small of her back, familiar and possessive.
“Beautiful,” the photographer called. “Sara, give me soft. Brayden, look at her like you can’t believe she’s yours.”
Brayden did. Sara wondered how many women had believed that look.
Brooklyn drifted behind the photographer, pretending to review something on her phone. Every time Sara’s gaze moved to her, Brooklyn’s smile deepened.
Brayden murmured, “Stay with me, baby.”
Sara looked up at him. “I’m right here.”
“I know, but your energy is a little off.”
“My energy?”
He laughed under his breath, keeping his face tender for the camera. “Don’t start. We need this.”
There it was. The need that mattered. Not the marriage. Not the wound. Not the wife whose heart he’d broken before breakfast. The shot. The sponsor. The story.
Sara lifted her hand to his chest, exactly where Brooklyn’s hand had been in the welcome party photo.
Brayden smiled, pleased with the pose. He was asking Sara to perform intimacy for a camera after giving something uglier and more honest to Brooklyn in private.
The thought made the silk against Sara’s skin feel too thin.
“Perfect,” the photographer said. “Hold that.”
Sara held it. Behind Brayden, one of the videographers shifted, catching a wider angle of the beach. Brooklyn moved closer to the prop table. Brayden’s eyes cut to her for one flicker of a second.
Sara saw it. The camera saw it too. She kept smiling.
At the end of the shoot, Sara turned to the photographer. “Could you send me all the raw footage?”
Brayden glanced at her. “Raw?”
“For memories,” Sara said sweetly. “I want everything. The pretty shots, the silly ones, all of it.”
The photographer brightened. “Of course, Mrs. Ellis. I can AirDrop the quick selects now and send the full folder tonight.”
“That would be perfect.”
Brayden’s smile tightened. “Baby, the edited ones will be better.”
“I know.” Sara touched his arm. “But it’s our honeymoon. I don’t want to miss anything.”
Brooklyn’s mouth flattened.
Abbie, standing just behind the photographer, lowered her sunglasses and winked.
An hour later, Sara sat on the edge of the bathtub in the honeymoon villa while Abbie scrubbed through the footage frame by frame.
Brayden was downstairs at the resort bar, supposedly taking a sponsor call.
Sara had told him she wanted a bath before dinner, and he had looked relieved not to have to entertain her.
Abbie paused the video. “There.”
Sara leaned closer.
The footage showed Brayden stepping away between takes, half-hidden by the flower arch. Brooklyn stood beside him, phone in one hand, champagne flute in the other. At first it looked like nothing.
Then Brayden’s hand opened.
A key card flashed against his palm. Brooklyn took it with two fingers and slid it under her phone case. The clip was only three seconds long. It was enough.
Sara pressed her fingertips to her lips, to hold back the anger, the grief, all the emotions that threatened to spill out.
Abbie saved the clip into the folder labeled BURN HIM NICE AND SLOW.
Sara looked at her.
“What?” Abbie said. “Too subtle?”
Sara smiled and meant it.