Chapter 16
MIA
My heart beats a hundred miles an hour, and my hand is clammy in Swayze’s as we stroll towards my doom—I mean dinner.
I can’t even blame nonexistent humidity or the sea breeze gently whirling around the path leading from our room to the pool.
I’m walking through one of the most beautiful places on earth, but my eyes barely even register the view.
Instead, I’m stuck in a weird time warp.
How was the airport chaos just hours ago?
Yesterday, now I guess?
Fuck knows, I don’t even know what time it is in the USA anymore. I’d have sworn we flew out here weeks ago. And while our little security jackhammer mishap was toe-curlingly mortifying—literally—for the first time in months, I’d managed to forget… okay, fine, avoid spiraling about tonight.
I’d happily sacrifice a hell of a lot more than my dignity if it meant never seeing that asshole again.
But, this is it.
The moment I’ve been dreading since Nick announced his engagement to Pete’s sister, Layla.
The inevitable showdown.
And I’m already barely holding my shit together.
As we get closer and I hear laughter from the pool, the rushing in my ears grows louder, competing to drown out their joy. I wish I could hide in this little bubble with Swayze a minute longer.
Every step closer makes my stomach knot tighter.
Oh my god. My heart is actually palpitating. I can’t breathe.
I’m not ready.
I can’t do this.
I can’t see him—Them.
Swayze must notice me sliding into a full-blown panic attack because he squeezes my hand, pulling me to a stop, just before we turn the corner.
Leaning his forehead to mine, he brings a warm hand up to cup my jaw. His thumb swipes over my bottom lip, one, two, three times, making my heart beat fast for entirely different reasons.
Don’t get caught up, Mia. Remember, it’s all an act.
“We’ve got this, ok. I’ve got you.” He presses a soft kiss to my forehead and releases my jaw, his hand taking mine again. “Ready?”
No.
His icy blue-gray eyes—Siberian Husky eyes—study me. Butterflies flutter low in my belly, and I’m not entirely sure if they’re due to nerves or Swayze.
It’s probably nerves, right?
“Ready.” I nod, squeezing his hand.
Despite everything, I really am grateful he’s here with me, no matter how strained it’s been between us this last year. I know Swayze’s a good guy and facing this with him is almost like I have a partner in crime, even though he has no idea what he’s serving time for.
Should I have warned him?
“I’m right here, Girlfriend.” He winks, squeezing my hand back, an easy grin spreading across his stubbled jaw. Without giving me a chance to respond, he tightens his grip and walks us toward the rest of the group, our families, and my ex.
“Miiiiia! Swayze!” My mom's cheerful shout draws all eyes to us as we round the corner.
I don’t have to try very hard to spot the one pair of eyes I hoped to avoid in my peripheral vision. They’re drilling into me, freezing my very core, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
He stands toward the back of the group, but I keep my gaze fixed on my mom, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing I’ve noticed him at all.
Nick comes striding over, pulling me into a bear hug before high-fiving Swayze and doing the same to him. “You look beautiful, sis.”
“Thank you, Nicky.” I smile up at my twin.
He’s probably my favorite man on the planet.
Nick’s always been honorable. Growing up, he was the kid who’d always stand up to bullies twice his size to stop them hurting someone else. He’d never treat a woman the way Pete treated me. Layla is his queen—he worships the ground she walks on.
If he knew half the things that went on, I know he’d sooner have thrown Pete off the plane then allow him on this island with us.
But I don’t want that for him.
I don’t want his loyalty torn between his twin and his soon-to-be wife.
It’s not fair to him. To them.
Layla can’t help it if her brother’s a dick. They’re definitely not cut from the same cloth, thank fuck.
Besides, it's my problem to deal with, once and for all.
Not theirs.
“He’s right, you do look beautiful. Always.” Swayze leans down and murmurs into my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine.
I tried to make an effort tonight, without looking too overdone. The khaki, floor-length spaghetti strap dress with a split that runs to mid-thigh was the perfect not-so-subtle fuck you to the prick who wanted me to dress like—and I quote—“the polished, ladylike wives in the country club.”
The only button-downs I owned were the ones he bought for me, and I absolutely can’t be trusted with cashmere—just ask how many of his sweaters I ruined.
Sorry not sorry.
Besides, I’m firmly team “if you’ve got ‘em, flaunt ‘em.”
And my messy bun is the proverbial cherry on top because Pete never liked it.
He threw my hair ties out multiple times, constantly telling me I should wear my wild waves straightened and down.
I almost cut it all off to spite him when we broke up. Luckily rationality prevailed and I didn’t, because I love my long hair, and fuck if I’m letting him ruin that for me too.
I’ll wear it however I damn well please.
Swayze seems to have no such issues, planting soft kisses on my bare neck when he pulls me in front of him, wrapping his big arms around my waist.
Layla appears beside us, enveloping us in a joint hug, sandwiching me in the middle, given Swayze’s new position as my oversized backpack.
“Thank you both so much for coming out here, We’re so excited to have you with us.
Nicky was telling me about this little development.
” She wiggles a finger between the two of us.
“I wish I’d bet on it. He couldn’t believe that I wasn’t surprised, but I always remember thinking there was a little spark there.
I could see it in how this big guy looked at you, Mia.
It was enough to make my heart race.” She laughs, bouncing on the spot excitedly.
Wait. What?
I’ve not seen her since Pete and I broke up, and the only time—well, times—anything happened with Swayze, we were totally alone. There’s no way she could’ve known.
I smile tightly, swallowing my automatic denial.
Everything in me wants to ask all the things. Figure out what she thinks she saw when we've only ever been friends around her. But obviously that would sound suspicious considering his current boyfriend status.
I can’t very well deny a spark, can I?
Swayze tightens his arms around my waist, nuzzling the top of my head with his lips.
“Busted. I was half in love with her from the day she moved next door when we were kids.”
Layla grins at my brother, silently mouthing the word see. They talk a little more before disappearing to mingle with the rest of the family, but I couldn’t tell you what was said. Not with Swayze’s words playing on a loop in my mind instead. They sound so honest.
What would that have been like if it were true?
If he’d been the one to pick me all those years ago instead of Pete?
Would we be standing here just the same—only, he’d really be mine, and I his?
Would I be different now?
Maybe I wouldn’t feel so emotionally dead inside if he’d loved me. Could he have loved me?
God, what am I doing?
None of this is true. We’re manufacturing a lie—one that was my stupid, dangerous idea.
I definitely shouldn’t be thinking like this, just because Swayze knows how to play a great boyfriend. It’s terrifying how easily I could let myself believe it.
He chuckles, drawing me out of my ridiculous fantasy land, and the sound makes me shiver in his arms.
“You cold, Angel?”
He drops his lips to my neck again, and oh god, he needs to rein that in.
Those butterflies are back again. It shouldn’t be like this—this real. Every brush of his lips sends a pulse straight through me.
Shifting, I try to ignore the throb building low in my belly because the absolute last thing I need is a wet patch appearing on my dress—and not from the pool water, if you catch my drift.
Not my smartest move avoiding underwear tonight, but this dress and panty lines are not a vibe.
I’m swimming in great ideas lately.
With sharks.
“Umm, no, I’m all good.” I lean back against his chest and tilt my head to smile up at him. He grins before planting a soft kiss on my nose.
A nose kiss? God, as far as fake boyfriends go, Deputy Heartthrob's killing it. Who knew a perpetual playboy could rock the boyfriend role so well?
“Let me know if you do get cold, I’ll give you my shirt,” he murmurs, and dammit, that comment’s an automatic swoon.
We should not be swooning, Mia.
Ughhh, maybe I’m still loopy from the flight? Or maybe the soft denim shirt stretching across his muscles like a second skin needs to come with a damn warning label because it’s really working for him.
And as if Mr. Muscle wasn’t enough, the sleeves are rolled up to his forearms, leaving veiny tanned skin on display.
Did I mention I have a thing for veiny forearms? And I don’t think he’s wearing anything underneath.
Maybe I should pretend to be cold so he gets those abs out again.
One ticket to the gun show, please.
Sue me. I’m only human.
He’s paired his I’m too sexy shirt with white shorts and navy Converse, looking both vacation chic and casual.
And hot as fuck—rivaling his usual flight jacket, jeans, and boots combo.
“Enjoying my sloppy seconds, I see.” The nasally voice washes over me like a cold shower, chasing away the buzz I was riding, leaving me numb.
Totally empty.
I knew it was only a matter of time before he slithered my way. Of course he’d appear the second we’re left alone, ready to destroy my night. What was I thinking dropping my guard? I know better. Getting swept away in fantasy land can’t happen here. It’s not safe.
The rat always comes back. He won’t ever be content until he draws blood.
Swayze’s arms tighten, pulling me in closer, a low growl rumbling from his chest.
Every muscle behind me tenses, the formerly warm, cuddly Swayze now coiled like a snake ready to strike. Before I can even open my mouth to respond, he bites back.