Chapter 41 Connor
CONNOR
The ballroom is too bright as I walk back in, even in the dimness of the candles placed on every table, and the music punches through my chest like it’s mocking me. I don’t see her.
I shove through a knot of cousins, scanning every corner. Empty chair inside, just like Camila said.
My eyes sweep the tables again. The panic claws higher. She wasn’t outside on the terrace, either.
The hollow punch in my chest nearly knocks the air out of me. I move, fast, weaving through the crowd. Someone claps my shoulder, another cousin says my name, but it all slides past like static. I’m too aware of every second she’s gone.
“Connie!”
Nicole’s voice hooks me midstride. She’s leaning back in her chair, one heel kicked off, champagne glass raised like she’s already the star of some afterparty. Her smile is bright, careless, and her eyes glint sharply.
“I didn’t think you’d mind,” she says, and the words slice before I even understand them.
“Athena kept asking if she should come. How you were doing, wondering if the trip finally knocked some sense into you.” She takes a sip of her drink and places it on the table in front of her.
“You were looking so relaxed, I told her of course she should join, that it was a great opportunity to rekindle things with you. And of course, the trip wouldn’t be the same without her. ”
I stop dead. My pulse spikes hot in my temples. “You told her to come?”
Nicole shrugs, unconcerned, adjusting the strap of her dress. “She belongs here, Connie. You two were always the golden couple. People missed her. It just… made sense.”
Her voice is breezy, like she’s commenting on the weather and she hasn’t just detonated my entire night. Possibly my entire future.
Rage roars up fast, white and blinding. I step closer, my voice low but shaking with it. “Stay the hell out of my life, Nicole.”
Her smirk falters, just barely, but I don’t stay long enough to savor it.
I push forward toward the doors, only to find another wall in my path.
“Connor,” my father’s voice cuts, cool as a blade. His hand clamps around my arm, steering me toward a tall man in a sharp tux, the tie already loose and undone. “This is David Lasker. He’s Joe’s partner.”
Lasker extends a hand, teeth flashing. “Your father says you’re as sharp as they come. Hopefully, you are seriously considering our offer. We know you’d be a perfect fit for us.”
I don’t take his hand. My chest is still heaving, the need to run clawing at my ribs. “Hi, David, nice to meet you. I’m not interested.”
My father’s fingers tighten around my arm like a vise. His smile is fixed, brittle. “Connor. This is an excellent opportunity for you. Don’t be rude.”
Something in me cracks. The part of me that used to flinch, used to fold under that tone, finally snaps in half.
“I said no.” My voice is steady. “I don’t want the job. I don’t want your contacts. I don’t want any of it.”
A ripple of surprise flickers over David’s face. My father’s jaw tightens, his eyes promising the storm that will come later. I don’t care. Not anymore.
I wrench my arm free and shoulder past them both. The room feels smaller by the second, walls pressing in, every laugh like a nail in my skull.
The doors swing shut behind me with a heavy thud, muting the ballroom into a muffled hum.
The cold night air hits like a slap—sharp, clean, threaded with pine and lake water.
For a second I just stand there, bent over with my hands on my knees, dragging in lungfuls like I’ve been drowning all night and finally broke the surface.
The gravel path crunches under my shoes as I move fast, half-blind in the dark, every muscle wound tight.
The mountains tower above, jagged silhouettes against the scatter of stars, and the lake spreads silver and restless at their base.
It’s too beautiful for a night like this.
Too still, too vast, when all I can feel is panic clawing at my ribs.
My mind won’t stop replaying the last twenty minutes. Athena’s hand on my arm. My mother’s satisfied smile. Nicole’s smug little shrug when she admitted she invited her. My father trying to sell me like a stock. And through it all, the empty chair where Manuela should’ve been.
I change directions, heading for the house quickly, but when I get there, it’s completely dark and every single room is empty.
I keep scanning, desperate. The dock juts out into the water, but she’s not there, either. I curse under my breath, chest tightening. Then, farther up the path, I catch the faintest outline—someone sitting on the bench tucked into the clearing, shoulders hunched against the night.
Manuela.
Relief slams into me so hard my knees almost buckle.
I slow as I get closer, not wanting to spook her. She’s staring out at the water, hands clasped tight in her lap, hair catching the moonlight like it’s spun from something I’ll never deserve.
For a moment I just watch because I can’t seem to do anything else. Because she looks perfect, like she belongs here—like she was carved out of these mountains, rooted to this place in a way I’ll never understand but want more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
Then she shifts just slightly, like she feels me coming before she hears me.
“Manu, baby.” My voice cracks on her name, raw from too much silence and too much shouting.
Her head turns, slow. Her eyes find mine, wide and wet, and the sight nearly guts me.
I take another step, then another, until I’m standing in front of her. I don’t reach for her—not yet. My hands are fists at my sides, shaking with everything I want to say and don’t know how.
“I looked everywhere,” I rasp. “Please don’t run from me.”
The lake laps gently at the shore, a sound so calm it feels cruel. She doesn’t speak right away, and the silence is a blade at my throat. But I don’t move. I won’t.
Finally, after what feels like hours, she turns her body in my direction.
I’m standing at the edge of the clearing, breathless, jacket half off and hair probably a mess since I’ve been running around trying to find her.
I’m sure she can see my panic because her eyes widen for a second and her hands twitch at her lap, almost like she’s ready to jump off her seat and come to me.
Her eyes lock on mine, and she blinks a few times.
“Don’t shut down,” I gasp, the words echoing too loud against the stillness. “I love you.”
Her head snaps up. The disbelief in her eyes cuts deeper than anything my father ever said to me.
“You don’t have to say it back, and I don’t care who hears it,” I push, louder now, the words tearing free before fear can choke them down. “I don’t care what my parents want, or my friends, or the whole fucking world. I’m done living their life. I want mine. And it’s you.”
For a beat, all I can hear is the water lapping against the dock below, steady where I’m not. My chest is heaving, but I’ve never felt clearer.
She shakes her head, voice cracking. “You don’t mean that. This is just… vacation magic. It’ll disappear the second we land in New York.”
The ache twists hard in my ribs, but I don’t look away. “I’m in love with you,” I say, and my own voice nearly knocks me over with the force of it. I don’t soften it, don’t give her an out. “And if this is ever going to work, you have to start trusting me.”
She tries to back away, panic flaring in her eyes, but I close the distance, steady and deliberate.
“Trust the words I say. Trust the ways I show you. Because I have spent my entire life listening to people tell me what I should be. What I should want. Who I should love.” My throat tightens around the word, but I force it out anyway. “And I’m done with it.”
The lake throws silver light across her face, and it guts me how much she doesn’t believe she deserves this. There are two swans making their way out of the water and onto the rocky shore, waddling like their shift on the lake is over and it’s their turn to sleep.
“I won’t let it happen here,” I tell her, sharp now, steel behind the words.
“Not with you. I won’t let anyone—including you—turn this into a script I’m forced to follow.
This is mine.” I press a fist against my chest. “And if you can’t believe in that yet, then at least believe that I will never stop proving it to you. ”
Her breath stutters, her hands trembling between us.
She looks like she wants to bolt. I lift a hand, slow, careful, afraid she’ll disappear if I move too fast. My thumb grazes her cheek, damp and soft.
“I’ve never been more sure of anything. But you…
I’ve never breathed easier than when I’m with you. Don’t take that from me.”
She whispers my name like it hurts her.
“I don’t want perfect,” I cut in, fierce because I need her to hear me.
“I don’t want polished and scripted. I want you.
The way you make me laugh without trying.
The way you see through me when no one else even looks.
The way you make me feel like I’m not drowning anymore.
Please.” My forehead rests against hers, sweat and lake air between us. “Please don’t walk away.”
Her tears fall fast now, streaking down her cheeks. “I can’t go back in there, Connor. Not after what just happened. Not with them looking at me like I don’t exist, like I’m nothing compared to her. I can’t survive that.”
“Baby,” I say, the pain making my voice unsteady. I cup her face, forcing her to see me even as her gaze skitters away. “You’ve got to cut yourself some slack. You think you’re invisible, but you’re not. You’ve carved out space in this group whether you realize it or not.”
Her brow furrows, wet lashes trembling.
“You don’t see Amelia hanging on to every word you’ve said?
Or the way Elle talks you up to anyone who listens?
They notice you, Manu. Every single one of them.
Maybe you don’t believe it, but I’ve watched it happen all week.
” My chest tightens. “And I notice you. Ever since that night on the rooftop. Always.”
She presses her lips together, like she’s trying not to believe me.
“I know it feels easier to tell yourself you don’t belong,” I continue, softer now, thumb tracing her cheekbone. “But you’re here. You’re part of this. Just as much as Hannah or Amelia or anyone else. And even if you can’t see it yet, I do. I always will.”
“But Nicole—”
“Baby, Nicole’ s just bitter because she’s hoping to get engaged, but even Banks knows not to propose during someone’s wedding trip. He’s probably going to do it tomorrow.”
The corner of her mouth twitches despite herself.
Finally, her shoulders sag, the fight bleeding out of her, replaced by something more fragile—hope, maybe.
“I’ll go with you wherever you need to be,” I whisper.
The words hang between us, heavy and certain, until finally she lets out a shaky breath and leans into my touch like she’s been holding herself back for too long.