Chapter 7 Sharon
SHARON
"So, this is why none of the wedding is going according to plan!" Ben shouts, accusing me of crap, and I can feel Cassian tense beside me, his whole body going rigid. “It’s because you're too busy getting it on with my brothers!"
Ben's pointing at me, his face flushed purple with rage, and I'm scrambling to pull my sweater up over my shoulder because suddenly being half-naked in front of my ex feels like the worst possible thing that could happen in this moment.
Cassian stands in one fluid motion, and I watch him move between me and Ben like a shield. His shoulders are back, his chest expanded, and there's something dangerous in the way he's holding himself.
"You need to calm the fuck down and apologize to Sharon," Cassian says, his voice dropping into something that sounds like controlled fury. "Don't talk to her like that. It's not her fault that your wedding is going to be a disaster.”
Ben's jaw clenches. He takes another step forward, and Cassian doesn't move, doesn't flinch, just stands there like he's made of concrete and won't be budged.
Why do we keep getting caught?
I don’t have an active sex life, and all of a sudden, I keep getting busy with one of the Burnside brothers, and someone always catches us. It’s like I have a satellite radar saying, I’m getting busy here, so come and find me.
What’s up with that?
Ben has aged. I never noticed it before, then again since I’ve been in town, this is the first time I’ve seen him.
It’s as if he’s lived a hard life, and as if I’ve seen him twenty years ago, and not just five.
His dark hair, the hair I remember him taking so much pride in, is mostly grey now.
Not distinguished grey. Tired grey. The kind that comes from stress and sleeplessness and things catching up with you.
Wrinkles spider-web across his face, deep grooves carved around his mouth like he's been scowling for years.
His skin has a greyish tint to it, almost translucent, like he's not sleeping, not eating right, not taking care of himself in any way that matters.
But that's not what makes me stare.
There's something around his left eye. A tattoo. A thick black line forming a perfect patch around his eye socket, like an old-fashioned pirate's eye patch permanently inked into his skin. It's the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen, and I can't look away from it.
"What the fuck is that?" The words escape before I can catch them, before I can remember that I'm supposed to be professional, supposed to be handling this like an adult.
Ben touches his left eye defensively, like he's suddenly self-conscious about the massive black tattoo covering half his face.
"Did you tattoo an eye patch on your face?" I ask.
So, it is a tattoo. An actual tattoo of an eye patch on his face. Ben, who used to spend forty-five minutes every morning on his skincare routine, who wouldn't wear a shirt unless it was designer, has tattooed an eye patch onto his face like some kind of comic book villain.
Ben points to his left eye defensively.
"The other one," Cassian says, and I can hear the barely concealed amusement in his voice. "She's talking about the tattoo, genius."
I bite the inside of my cheek. My shoulders start shaking, and I have to press my hand over my mouth because I'm either going to laugh or cry and I'm not entirely sure which.
"It's a statement," Ben says defensively, crossing his arms over his chest.
"It's a disaster," Cassian says flatly. He moves slightly closer to me, and his hand finds the small of my back. The touch is grounding, real, and I lean into it without thinking. "And you still owe Sharon an apology."
Before Ben can respond, the door opens again. Penelope walks in wearing a designer dress that probably costs more than my rent.
I have to actually bite through my cheek to keep from reacting.
Because tattooed around her right eye, the opposite eye from Ben's left eye tattoo, is an identical black patch.
Matching. They're wearing matching eye patch tattoos like they're one incomplete person that only works when they're together. Like if they stood facing each other, their tattoos would mirror perfectly. Left eye. Right eye. Two halves of one terrible decision.
Cassian's hand tightens slightly on my back. His voice is flat when he speaks.
"Let me guess. Penelope's follower count stalled around fifty and she needed something big. Something viral. So she convinced you to get matching face tattoos for content."
"That's not what happened," Ben snaps.
"Really?" Cassian's tone doesn't change. "Because last I checked, she's been stuck doing sponsored posts for protein powder while other influencers hit a million. She needed engagement. You needed to prove you're edgy and not just another trust fund kid. Match made in algorithm heaven."
"Fuck off, Cassian." Ben's face flushes red. "You don't know anything about us."
"I know exactly what this is. Couple goals posts. Permanent commitment reels. Whatever gets clicks these days."
"I did it for love!" Ben's voice cracks. "I did it because I love her and wanted to show the world that we're forever. That we're committed. That I'm not afraid to make a permanent choice for her."
Cassian doesn't respond. Just looks at him with that same flat expression.
The silence stretches.
"You don't get it," Ben says quietly. "None of you do. This wasn't about followers or engagement or going viral. It was about us."
But even as he says it, I can see the doubt creeping into his eyes.
She takes in the scene with cold calculation. Me with my sweater still half falling off my shoulder. Cassian standing partially in front of me like he's protecting me from something. Ben looking like he's about to have an aneurysm.
"What's going on?" Penelope asks. Her voice is sharp, cutting. She steps further into the room, and I notice that she's positioned herself between Ben and the door, blocking the exit.
"Nothing," Ben says quickly, but there's something in his voice that suggests he's lying. "I was just leaving."
Cassian's grip on my back tightens slightly.
"Before you go, I think you should apologize to Sharon for screaming at her," he says, his voice steady and level in a way that makes it clear he's not asking.
"She's been working her ass off on your wedding, and the fact that nobody's showing up isn't her fault. It's because nobody likes you."
It's brutal. It's the kind of thing that should probably not be said out loud, but there's a truth in it that hangs in the air like smoke.
I'm watching all of this unfold, and I'm trying to figure out when exactly my life became this surreal. When I started wanting to kiss my ex's brother instead of wanting to run far away from this situation as possible.
"I don't appreciate your tone," Ben says stiffly, his jaw clenching so hard I can see the muscle working under his skin.
"I don't care," Cassian replies. His hand slides up my back, between my shoulder blades, and the touch sends heat through me even in the midst of this chaos.
I'm standing here in Cassian's living room, wearing a sweater that keeps trying to fall off my shoulder, with my ex screaming at me about a wedding that nobody wants to attend, and his fiancée standing in the doorway wearing an matching eye patch tattoo like they're some kind of deranged set.
"I'm bored," I announce, surprising even myself with the words.
Everyone stops. Ben's mouth freezes mid-sentence. Penelope's eyes narrow. Cassian's hand stills on my back, but I feel him smile against the top of my head.
"You're bored?" Ben repeats, like he doesn't understand the English words coming out of my mouth.
"Yes," I confirm. I straighten my sweater and smooth down my hair with shaking hands, trying to inject some confidence into my voice.
"By all of this. By the wedding. By your matching tattoos, which are absolutely terrible, by the way.
By the fact that you're here screaming about something that has nothing to do with you. I'm bored."
Penelope's expression hardens like stone. She takes a step into the room, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor. "Are you quitting?"
"No," I say, because I'm terrified and I still need my job, but also because I'm done being the only adult in this situation.
"But I'm done letting this be my problem.
You're not coming to your own wedding, nobody else is either, and I'm just here to coordinate logistics.
So, congratulations on the matching face art.
It really completes the whole 'villain couple' aesthetic you've got going on. "
Cassian's shoulders shake slightly, and I know he's holding back laughter.
Ben's face goes from red to purple, and for a moment I think he's actually going to have a stroke. His hands clench into fists at his sides, and he takes a step forward. Cassian moves too, shifting his weight, angling his body so that Ben would have to go through him to get to me.
"I think you should leave," Cassian says. His voice is calm, which somehow makes it more threatening than if he was yelling.
For a moment, I think Ben's going to push it.
I can see the anger vibrating through him, the desire to say something cutting, something that will make all of this hurt.
Then he glances at Penelope, and something unspoken passes between them.
A negotiation. A calculation. Ben's shoulders drop slightly, and he turns toward the door.
"Come on," Penelope says to him, not as a suggestion but as a command. She's already walking back toward the hallway, her expensive heels echoing.
Ben follows, and neither of them looks back.
The door closes behind them with a soft click, and suddenly the room feels smaller. Quieter. Like the air has been holding its breath and is finally exhaling.