Chapter 11 The morning came too quickly. Warm light through the slated blinds, the quiet whoosh of the ocean beyond the glass. Somewhere in the villa, the sound of Zach's giggles rose and fell like music. For a moment, just one, with my head still buried in the pillows and the blankets still pulled around me, I let myself imagine this was mine. Not the room. Not the view. But the laugh, the life. I don't let people in. I don't do relationships. His words from last night pinged around in my head as if I were a pinball machine, and the illusion shattered in an instant. I pushed up from the king-size mattress that suddenly felt like far more space than I needed, the weight of the day smacking me square in the chest. It was Ryan's wedding day. Moving to the edge of the bed, I sat with my elbows on my knees, staring blankly at the wall like it might offer me any reason to not crawl back under the covers and scream into the mattress. My dress was already hanging on the bathroom door, emerald, silky, and enough to turn heads. My makeup bag sat open on the desk, curler, and hairdryer beside it. Everything was laid out and ready to go. As if preparation could make all of this any less ridiculous. I ran a hand through my hair, trying to breathe through the weight in my chest. It wasn't heartbreak, not anymore, but it was something adjacent. A pathetic echo of the pain of a relationship I was well and truly over breaking down, the memories almost black and white instead of screaming color. But it felt weird in a way I wasn't sure I'd be able to explain if Matt asked me how I was doing. Today, the friend I thought I'd known like the back of my hand was going to put the final nail in the coffin of our friendship. Today, the man I once thought I was going to marry, was going to marry someone else. And I was going to smile like it didn't gut me as I stood on the arm of the person he hated the most. I was here for revenge and a paycheck, and as my mind started to drift toward Matt, I had to tell myself that again. And then again as I brushed my teeth, twice more as I pulled on my pajamas and wandered out into the villa in search of desperately needed coffee. The scent of it hit me before I'd reached the kitchen, along with the sound of Matt's low voice and Zach's louder, higher one, both of them mid-debate over the best fruit to blend into a smoothie. Zach looked up from where he was perched on the counter, dinosaur pajamas on, with Matt crowding him protectively to make sure he didn't fall off. "Sienna! You like mangos?" "I do," I grinned. "Not as much as strawberries, though." Matt's sneaky grin as he looked down at his pouting son told me everything about what side I'd accidentally taken. He looked so relaxed like this - a soft gray T-shirt that could have been four hundred dollars or from the clearance rack at Walmart, checkered pajama bottoms, barefoot. He was somehow exactly the same and so intensely far from the man I'd watched last night with a scotch in hand and candlelight flickering in his eyes, vulnerability cracking open in front of me like it surprised even him. But he was still warm. Still loving with Zach. Still casual with me. His head turned, just a little, just enough to catch my gaze over his shoulder, and gave a small, unreadable smile. "There's coffee," he said softly, tipping his head toward the full pot on the counter. I nodded, thankful for the excuse to turn away, to do something with my hands. The silence that followed between me and him-Zach was still babbling away-wasn't uncomfortable. It was just heavy. We both remembered dinner last night, both remembered him leading me back to the car with his hand on the small of my back with no one to show me off to, both remembered the way he'd lingered at my door for a startling second before he'd swallowed and said goodnight. And it felt like neither of us knew what to do with that now that the sun was up. "Sienna?" Zach chirped, his feet dangling off the side of the counter, Matt still crowding him just in case. I set down the pot of coffee and turned to him. "Can we swim again today?" I forced a bigger smile than necessary. "We've got time. The... wedding doesn't start until five, and I won't need to start getting ready until one, maybe two at the latest." Zach grinned wide, triumphant, like that settled it. "But," I added, holding up a finger, "you'll have to ask your dad first. He's the boss." He twisted instantly, his little hands grabbing fistfuls of Matt's shirt as he leaned in and looked up at his father with the most absurdly adorable face I'd ever seen, his hazel eyes wide and wanting. God, he looks so much like Matt. "Pleeeeease?" he asked, dragging the word out like he knew it'd hit home. "I'll wear sunscreen, and I swear, I swear I won't even cannonball!" "That's exactly what you said yesterday," Matt deadpanned, blinking down at him. "You cannonballed twice." He pouted. "I didn't splash anyone, though." "You splashed me!" Matt laughed. I snorted as I lifted my mug to my lips, taking a blessed sip of coffee, I desperately needed, and Matt's mouth cracked wide into a grin as he wiggled his fingers against Zach's sides, tickling him. For a quick, fleeting second, Matt's gaze flicked to mine, and whatever was between us from last night seemed to pulse in that gaze before it was gone. "Fine," Matt said eventually, faux-exasperation written all over his face. "But you're taking a nap after. No exceptions." "Daaaaa-" "Nope," Matt smirked, putting a finger to Zach's lips to shush him. "You were up earlier than usual, and you want to exhaust yourself in the pool. That definitely warrants a nap." ---- I spent the morning in the pool with Zach, both of us calling it quits as the sun started to reach its highest point in the sky. But only one of us took a nap willingly. Matt woke me up around one-thirty in the afternoon with a quick knock on my door and an announcement that there were spare dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets on offer as well as pan-seared snapper, but my stomach had churned the moment I'd open my eyes and looked at that goddamn dress. The last dress. Emerald. I'd thought it was hilarious when I'd tried it on at Regale. I'd stepped out of the fitting room with it pinned in place and nearly laughed myself sick at how good it looked - tight in every right place, a slit up the side that bordered on illegal, and a neckline that plunged so deep it almost reached the bottom of my sternum. It had been a joke. A petty one, one with a visual punchline to Ryan's specific brand of pain. It was a dress that looked like it had been stitched by the devil himself, in the same jewel tone as the engagement ring I'd asked Ryan for. The one I'd never gotten. But now, hanging there against the bathroom door, it didn't feel clever anymore. It didn't feel like power. It felt more like a dare I wasn't sure I had the guts to follow through on, like I'd invited myself onto a stage I didn't want to be on anymore. But the bitter part of me, the sharp-edged and exhausted and angry version of me, whispered that I had to wear it. If I didn't, he won - if I let myself hide, if I made myself disappear tonight, then Ryan and Lauren got everything they wanted. A wedding without consequence. An affair wrapped up in gossamer and roses and far too much gold. Fuck him. Every piece was perfect by the time I'd finished. My hair, down and flowing tonight, pinned away from my face and flowing down my back. My makeup, done and removed and redone, flawless, sharp. My jewelry, bought on Matt's card, gold and perfectly complementary, with two sharp points hanging from my ears. My heels, difficult to walk in. I looked like I was dressed to kill. When I finally emerged from my room, Margot was waiting by the door in her royal blue midi dress, the fabric sleek and pressed and starched, her grey hair swooped back in a styled bun. Zach stood beside her with a stick of string cheese hanging out of his mouth, his back flopped dramatically against the door, looking absolutely adorable in his tiny black suit and emerald, green tie. Apparently, Matt was color coordinating me with his kid, now, too. "Look at you!" I grinned, crossing the space and squatting down beside him with about as much balance as a baby learning to walk. I adjusted his collar, tucking it back under his little jacket where it had popped out. Zach wrapped his hand around the string cheese and bit down. "I look like a grown-up," he grumbled. "Maybe, but you'll be the best-dressed one there," I chirped, tucking a stray curl back behind his ear. I looked up at Margot, her brows halfway up her forehead as she glanced down at me in my dress. "Are we all sitting together at the ceremony?" "You and Matt are," she said. "I'll be at the back with the little terror, here, in case he tries to make a scene. He's not quite old enough to trust him to sit through the vows." I huffed out a breath. "Wish I had that excuse." I stood on shaky legs, glancing back toward the living room, looking for Matt - but the rest of the villa was silent. "He had to go down there a little earlier," Margot said. "We're meeting him. Ryan called about something-or-other." My stomach turned. It shouldn't have bothered me, having to walk in without Matt by my side, but it did. The thought of being seen here without him felt like walking into a slaughterhouse as a fucking cow. "Okay," I swallowed, trying to cover the discomfort prickling the back of my neck. We walked in sync to the main building, other guests fluttering past in oranges, pinks, and creams that looked more in line with a sunset than a ridiculously overpriced wedding venue dripping in gold. Zach babbled on about triceratops and how their brains were roughly the size of limes as Margot and I held his hands on either side, occasionally swinging him with a rowdy giggle. But I paused when I heard it. The low hum of voices came from the terrace, just beyond the glass door and down near the beach - no. Not just voices, but men; the top end of their anger cut off through the glass, leaving nothing but the bitter bass. I knew both of them. I slowed near the doors, mostly out of sight with the sun reflecting off the glass, rising up that little bit more on my tiptoes than my heels already had me, and spotted them as Margot and Zach kept on toward the ceremony space. Zach was far too busy babbling to even notice my absence. I didn't need to hear the words to know it was tense. It was there in the muffled sound of their voices, in the sharp gestures and stiff postures, in the way Matt stood with his arms crossed and his suit jacket pulled taut across his shoulder blades, and the way Ryan was pointing angrily in an arbitrary direction with his brows furrowed and his forehead vein bulging. This was hidden, separate from the guests, removed in a way that clearly sought privacy. And whatever the conversation was, it wasn't civil. I didn't get closer. There wasn't a part of me that wanted to chance being spotted by Ryan, so I shifted, leaning back against the wall opposite the glass door. I slipped my phone from my clutch and shot off a quick text to Matt. Me: I'm here. Waiting in the lobby. I stared at the doors, the twist of adrenaline curling in my stomach. Arguments between Ryan and Matt were something I'd heard a lot about from Ryan in particular, but from the way Matt had looked-even with his back to me, tense as a rock-I could tell it wasn't what Matt claimed were the standard I need money arguments. I counted the seconds. Then the minutes. Two, then three, then Matt filled the glass frame of the door before he wrenched it open, pausing the moment his eyes met mine over the threshold, his pristinely pressed black suit wrapped around him like a glove, his tie a perfect match for mine, his mostly-grey hair slicked back away from his sharp features. For a heartbeat, he just looked at me, eyes scanning me from head to heels as if he needed a second to take it in and recover. But he shook his head with a quiet curse under his breath and shut the door behind him. "God," he murmured. "You look..." His Adam's apple bobbed, words dying on his tongue. I breathed out a chuckle, my cheeks heating. "Should I take your speechlessness as a compliment?" He scrubbed a hand over his face, swallowing and resetting his jaw. "Yeah," he huffed. "You fucking should." That shouldn't have flustered me, but Christ, it did. The way he was looking at me, like he wanted to do more than devour me, set my pulse spiking until I could feel it pounding against the inside of my wrist. He crossed the space between us, calmer now, like whatever storm had been spinning outside had finally snapped shut and he was able to focus on this alone. His hand found the small of my back, warm through the fabric and boning of the dress, pulling me just an inch closer to him - enough that I could feel the heat rippling off of him, enough that I could smell the hint of whiskey on his breath. He'd already had a drink? "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear as a handful of guests passed behind him. I swallowed. No, I wanted to say, Ryan's getting married, and I still don't know what the hell that dinner was with you last night. But those weren't what made it out of my mouth. "Yeah," I breathed. His brows furrowed almost imperceptibly, his mouth thinning to a hard line, his eyes searching mine. My pulse pounded once, hard, before he leaned in, his breath fanning across my ear. "Think we both need to get a little better at lying if we're going to survive tonight," he murmured. Before I could even form a response, his free hand came up to cup my jaw, his other pulling me just a little closer, enough that my breasts brushed his jacket on an inhale. His lips pressed against my cheek, just gently, just enough to make my breath hitch. It's just the act. His hand lowered gently, his touch soft enough not to smudge my makeup, until he was cupping the curve of the side of my throat, his thumb gently brushing across my jawline. "Just say if you need a minute. Doesn't matter when, we'll just fuck off somewhere private so you can catch your breath. Okay?" I nodded. "Words, Sienna." Something curled low in my stomach at that. "Okay," I rasped. "Good." He pulled back, his gaze locking with mine, hazel eyes sharp and searing a hole straight through me. "Let's get this over with." I let him lead me toward the ceremony space, his hand heavy on the small of my back, my heels clicking with every step. I told myself I wasn't leaning into his touch, told myself this wasn't comfort, that I didn't need the attention he was paying to me or the way it made me feel. But I knew I was lying to myself. By the time the ceremony began, the sky was lit up in deep blues and oranges and pinks, the sun setting over the Yucatan peninsula behind us, the Caribbean lapping at the back steps of Ryan and Lauren's stupid stage for their vows. Matt and I sat on the right side of the seating area, a few rows back from the front, because, of course, Ryan didn't want us anywhere close to him, despite Matt being his closest living family member. The chairs around me were filled with either people I'd met who knew exactly who I was to Ryan and couldn't stop glancing at me, or people I'd never met that he'd invited for the status of it all. Matt took my hand in his the moment we all stood for the bride, a soft squeeze settling my nerves, and I watched in numb silence as Lauren walked down the aisle alone in a stupidly, perfect, strapless dress that I was almost positive was the same one she'd pointed out to me in a magazine six months ago, a giggle crossing her lips as she'd said, "You should wear that one when he finally plucks up the nerve to ask you." I squeezed Matt's hand back. He tucked it in against his stomach, his other hand wrapping around our joined ones, just for added support. When the vows began, I didn't hear a word, hardly noticed her veil floating in the wind or the way she grinned at him like he'd hung the moon. All I could think about was how close I'd come to being her, how much I'd wanted that. And whether sitting here now, clutching Matt's hand in mine like I wanted to meld mine into it, made me any different. ---- The reception was a cream-and-gold, over-the-top spectacle. Long farmhouse tables under chandeliers hanging from the trees like they'd grown right out of them, waiters in all white floating between guests with champagne flutes and hors d'oeuvres with literal edible gold, a string quartet mangling a pop song in the name of 'elegance.' And Lauren was still shooting daggers at me with her stare from the head table. I didn't flinch - not even when she whispered something into Ryan's ear that made his jaw clench, not when one of her bridesmaids turned to glare at me like I'd committed war crimes by showing up in a dress that fit me like a glove. "Let them look," Matt had said simply the first time I'd noticed it when I sat down, his attention half caught between me and Zach's complaint about the lack of chicken nuggets. He was right. I could let them look, let them see me as I was. Here, not broken. Better off. And more importantly, for the first time in two months, no longer feeling like the one who lost. I sipped my champagne, let the annoying string music wind around me, and smiled the next time Lauren's eyes met mine like I wasn't imagining destroying their wedding cake before they could even get to it. The moment the string quartet packed up, the speeches finished, and the DJ got set up, Zach tugged on my hand. "Are we allowed to dance yet?" he asked, eyes wide and grin fierce like he already knew the answer but just wanted to be told yes. I glanced at the open-air dance floor. It was empty for now, waiting for someone to break the ice. "Who says we need permission?" I said, grinning back at him. Zach's face lit up in an instant. I met Matt's gaze as he spoke to Margot, pulling him from the conversation for half a second as he followed Zach's pleading eyes toward the dance floor and chuckled. "I would love nothing more than for you to make a scene with my son," he said simply, his lips twitching up at the corner. That was all the encouragement we needed. Zach and I marched together onto the floor, hand in hand, my eyes glued to nothing but him. It was easier when I thought about it less as a bold thing I was doing to get under Ryan and Lauren's skin and more as something I wanted to do for Zach, and the moment his gaze met mine, I spun him once right as the music started. And the music was perfect. The tempo picked right up, something jazzy and old-school, and Zach let loose like he was born for both the dance floor and annoying the bride and groom. People started watching - not necessarily in a bad way. But he got attention, and I could feel the tension leaking out of me as he giggled and laughed and pulled me out of my uptight bubble that had formed from sheer stress alone. A few of the guests clapped in time with the music as I tried to keep up with him. One of the groomsmen laughed and shouted encouragement at Zach from the sidelines. Someone made a whoop sound when I dropped into a silly, low move, and Zach mirrored me with a fall-and-roll that looked more like he was under fire from snipers than dancing, but it was adorable. Matt watched from his seat at a table back from the floor, one arm draped across the back of his chair and his mouth curled in a smile he didn't even try to hide. It was there again - the softness in his eyes he'd had last night, the look of almost-vulnerability he'd had when he'd said, "You were chaos in a yellow sundress." I had to force myself to look away. Eventually, Zach stumbled back to the table, breathless and flushed, flopping against Matt's chest when he pulled him into his lap like a tired puppy. He zonked out completely not long after, head tucked up against the lapel of Matt's suit jacket, his fingers wrapped loosely around Matt's tie. Watching them like that - Matt's hand resting protectively on his son's back, his eyes flicking to me every so often between gentle kisses on top of Zach's head or sipping his champagne - forced something open in my chest. Not a wound. Something far more stupid than that. It was a want. "Thought he took a nap earlier," I chuckled lightly, tapping the side of Matt's shoe with my own. He rolled his eyes, but there wasn't any real irritation behind them. "So did I." Margot took him a few minutes later, lifting Zach with practiced ease and managing not to wake him fully. Matt murmured a quiet thank you to her, promising we'd come back to the villa soon. But then it was just us. Well, us and two hundred odd people that either hated us or didn't know we existed. I didn't let myself overthink it and stood up beside him, offering him my hand. "Your turn." He looked up at me, a single eyebrow raised, a little spot of damp where Zach's head had rested against his chest. "Mine?" I bit back my grin. "You're supposed to be my charming boyfriend, right? It's in the job description." "I don't love dancing," he said simply, but the corner of his mouth was already lifting. "Neither do I." I reached down, taking his hand, and he didn't fight me in the slightest. "Come on. Let's ruin this wedding with at least a little joy." He laughed, not fully but it was there, and let me pull him up and out of his seat, toward the dance floor. "This feels like a trap," he smirked. "Only if you dance badly," I grinned back at him, crossing onto the mostly-empty dance floor and squeezing his hand. "So maybe fake that, too." His free hand landed at my waist, strong and steady, pulling me in until I was flush against him. I curled my fingers behind his neck, letting them drift just barely into his hair, my pulse pounding a little too hard at the intimacy of it - but then he met my gaze as he started to move us, guiding me like this was easy, like we'd done this a hundred times. "I'll have you know," he murmured, dipping his head slightly toward my ear so only I could hear, "I'm a decent dancer. I just avoid doing it." "Oh, so this isn't your first time?" I teased, but it clearly wasn't. He was far too confident with his steps for this to be the first time he'd moved to music with a crowd of people around. "I never would have guessed." He laughed, faking offense as he pulled back enough to meet my gaze. "I've been to enough corporate galas to fake some moves, thank you very much," he said, rolling his eyes. "I usually avoid weddings, though. Too much optimism in the air." I shook my head, barely holding in the giggle working up my throat. "Right. Got to have the ulterior motive of revenge." He shrugged. "And obligation." I tightened my grip on the back of his neck, watching the way his breath hitched a little. "You're being a very good brother," I said, the words feeling too weighty for how casually they slipped out. "Even if it is because of obligation." He hummed his response, his gaze scanning the room once before landing back on me. "Don't look," he said softly, his thumb brushing my waist where he held it as he moved us slightly across the dance floor, "but they're staring." I stared up at him, not daring to look away. "Good," I said. "Let them simmer in their anger." He huffed a chuckle. "You don't want to give them a break on their wedding day?" I grinned, then, wild, and bright and a little manic, and dropped his hand to wrap my arms around his neck. He didn't question it - just pulled me in tighter, his hand splaying out across my back, eyes glued on me as I beamed up at him unashamedly and far too sweetly for the words behind my teeth. "I'd rather give them food poisoning." He snorted, his forehead dropping against mine. "You are chaos," he said, but there wasn't a hint of bite to it. The music shifted into something slower, something far more romantic, and neither of us moved to leave. His free hand wrapped around me, resting right between my shoulder blades, not bothering to lift his head from mine. It was too easy, being this close to him. "Thank you," he said, his voice going a little raspier as he lowered it. "I should have said that earlier." I blinked up at him, his face slightly too close to focus on. "For what?" "For dancing with Zach," he said gently. "And for being so good with him yesterday and this morning. He hasn't really loosened up like that with anyone but Margot. You didn't have to put so much effort in." My throat tightened. "He's a great kid," I murmured. "You don't have to thank me. I liked it, like him." Matt lifted his head enough to look down at me properly, his gaze weighty, flicking across my face like he was trying to memorize it. His thumb moved again, just gently, tracing a line across the back of my ribs. "Still," he said. "Thank you." I swallowed down the part of me that was screaming that there was something here, forced it to understand that this conversation wouldn't mean jack shit if we were two meters apart and not wrapped up in each other's arms because of a part we were playing. "You're a lot softer than you pretend to be," I said, smirking just a little, trying to lighten it enough so I could get a grip on myself. "Yeah, well, don't spread it around," he chuckled. "I have a reputation to uphold." Apparently, my body didn't want to listen to the words I was hammering into my brain, because I went up on tiptoes out of instinct, bringing my face just a little bit closer, my body swaying an inch when he tried to move us another step. "I'll keep your secret," I grinned, dragging my teeth over my lower lip. "For a price." He huffed a breath, leaning down to meet me just short of halfway, his gaze shifting between my eyes and my lips. "What, a hundred grand doesn't cover secrets?" he murmured, his hand coming up to cup the back of my neck, his grip firmer than I expected, his thumb pushing up against my jaw just enough to tilt my head back a little more. My cheeks heated immediately, my throat working desperately on words that wouldn't seem to come. "Name your ridiculous price, then, Sienna," he said. "Or are you too scared to, since I called you out for it last time?" Kiss me. Are you asking me because you want me to or because you want him to see it happen again? I wanted to answer him, wanted to shoot something at him that was smart and deflecting and entirely unserious so he would stop looking at me like that, but I couldn't. I was locked in place, my mouth not working, my brain skidding to a halt, my cheeks so warm they burned. He leaned a little closer, his breath ghosting across my lips, and before I could do something reckless like close the distance or push away, his mouth brushed mine in the barest kiss anyone had ever given me, my brain short-circuiting and turning into TV static. And then he pulled away again. No. No⁠- "Too easy," he rasped, his lips pulling up at the corners. "You're too easy to rattle, sweetheart." I stared up at him, trying to process, trying to figure out what the hell he was doing, but he wasn't moving, wasn't coming back, wasn't leaning down to kiss me again. The thoughts hit me all at once - we were leaving tomorrow. The charade would be over. Unless we were saying goodbye to them in the morning, which I highly doubted, right here on the dance floor before going back to our villa would be the last time Matt's hands would be on me like this, the last time Matt would be this close. And he wasn't even kissing me properly. My heart pounded against my ribs. I should have been okay with that. I should have been relieved that this was almost over. But, fuck, I wasn't. I didn't want to feel anything at all, but with his hands on my back and my neck and the lights of those stupid chandeliers hanging softly above us, I felt like the only people in the room were the two of us. Not Ryan, not Lauren, not anyone who'd ever made me feel like I wasn't enough, not the guests I didn't care about or the resort staff. Just Matt. Just me. And the horrifying realization that this, whatever it was, felt too real and dangerously, stupidly, heartbreakingly easy. Every part of me screamed to grab him by the tie and pull him back to me, but I couldn't. My pride wouldn't allow for it. Shit. Shit. ---- We left before I'd even had the chance to consider running my fingers through the uncut cake. Matt made the call, leaning in while the DJ switched to something upbeat and exciting, his breath hot against my ear. "If we want this whole new and obsessed with each other thing to come across right, we should slip out a little early. Sell it." I didn't hesitate. I needed air that wasn't tainted with the scent of his cologne desperately. "God, please," I mumbled, forcing words to come out, but they felt hollow. "If I have to see Ryan feed Lauren a piece of cake, I might commit an actual felony." We slipped away through a side path winding past the edge of the reception space, laughter and clinking glasses getting quieter behind us as we walked. The sky was thick and black above us, the stars obscured by all the lights, the air still sickly with salt and flowers and the occasional waft of perfume when the wind blew. Matt walked beside me, one hand tucked in the pocket of his slacks, the other brushing against mine more often than not. "You've been a very convincing fake boyfriend," I said, hating the words as they slipped out. He glanced over, his lips twitching up at the corner. "I do like to commit to a role." I huffed out a breath. "You deserve an Oscar." He chuckled lightly, tilting his head back and forth like he was thinking. "Do you think I should thank my fake girlfriend in my acceptance speech? Or is that too sentimental?" I bumped him lightly with my shoulder. "Definitely too sentimental. Got to keep it cool, Strathmore, since you're so worried about your reputation." "Right, right," he grinned. "Emotionally stunted. Got it." I chuckled but hated the way the air between us was settling, hated the way things were softer, the act dropping. By the time we reached the villa, the windows were dark, the porch lanterns the only light still flickering as we talked idly about work. He walked up the steps ahead of me, holding the door open while I peeled off my heels before stepping inside, half out of not wanting to wake Zach with the clicking and half from just how badly my feet were killing me. Beautiful shoes, but my God, they were torturous. "...so, then she tells me that she can't finish her vocabulary test because Mercury is in retrograde and it's making her feel too 'emotionally volatile' to spell," I continued, dropping my heels by the door as I shut it behind me. "I was impressed she even knew what volatile meant." Matt chuckled quietly beside me before ushering me toward the hall. "That might be the most creative way I've heard of a kid trying to get out of schoolwork." He followed as I walked, my bare feet almost silent against the floor, my dress strap falling off one shoulder. "I gave her extra credit," I snorted, pushing open the door to my room and stepping through. "She got a B in the end." I turned back toward him, half expecting him to respond, but he'd stopped at the doorway. I caught the last flicker of amusement in his expression before it faded into something quieter, something still, and oh, shit, I hated that. I hated that more than I hated anything else this evening. "You can come in," I said, my voice far breathier than I'd intended. He didn't move. "Sienna," he said carefully. "Oh my God." I rolled my eyes and set my clutch down on the dresser. "It's not an invitation to sleep with me, Matt." His mouth twitched. Thank God. He hadn't shut off completely. "You sure?" I stared at him for a long second, my hand wrapping around my wrist out of nerves. "Fuck," I muttered. He arched a single brow at me. "Look," I said, taking a step back. "We were mid-conversation, and I don't feel like whispering about retrograde-vocabulary-trauma in the hallway while praying it doesn't wake your kid. That's-that's all." He held my gaze for a second, and then another. Idiot, my brain screamed. Desperate. Matt let out a breath I hadn't realized he was holding and crossed the threshold, shutting the door behind him. "Do you honestly want to keep talking about your students?" he asked, leaning against the door frame to the en-suite. I dragged my teeth over my lip, turning from him as I unfastened my earring and opened up my jewelry bag. "No," I said. "But there is something I wanted to ask you." "Go ahead." I popped out the other earring and dropped it into the with the first before starting to turn the chain of my necklace to reach the clasp. "I saw you and Ryan earlier," I said softly. "Before I texted you. I didn't hear anything, but it looked... heated." I paused, waiting to see if he offered up any information without me directly asking. He didn't. "Can I ask what you were arguing about?" He let out a rough breath, but he didn't answer. I slipped the chain from around my neck and dropped it in the bag. "Matt?" I asked, turning⁠- I startled slightly, my breath catching. He was far closer than he'd been a second ago. Too close. Close enough to smell his cologne, close enough that I had to tilt my head up a bit to look him in the eyes. "Christ," I muttered. "Warn a girl next time." His gaze dropped to my mouth, hovering, before lifting dangerously slowly back to my eyes. "Matt," I said again, but my voice was too strained, too obvious. I couldn't move, didn't know how to anymore - just stood there, my heart slamming against my ribs like a caged animal. His hand came up slowly, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen from the pins back from my face. His fingers lingered against my cheek, light and careful, but warm, so fucking warm⁠- "You." That was it. One word, but it landed like a blow to the head. My breathing stuttered. "Me?" Matt said nothing, but he took a step toward me, closing the distance further, my heart pounding erratically. "Like, me me?" I asked, blinking at him in confusion, my brain stalling as I tried to make sense of both it and how close he was, how he was looking at me. "Okay, but, what do you-what about me? Like, was he mad that I was here? Or mad that you're, no-were with me? Or...or-fuck, Matt-what do you mean⁠-" He kissed me. He kissed me, and I lost my goddamn mind. Again. This wasn't like the ones before, the ones in front of Ryan, the ones where he'd been showing me off. This wasn't like the ones on the plane, stupid and reckless and lost in the fantasy of I'll never see you again. This had no audience, no witnesses, no script. This had consequences. His mouth was hot and firm and impossibly sure, his tongue prying my lips open with his hands on the curve of my jaw, anchoring me, pulling me in like gravity. "Fuck," I breathed against him, and he took the opportunity to deepen it more, like he'd been waiting for the chance. It wasn't careful. It wasn't polite. And as he walked me backward, my knees hitting the edge of the mattress, I realized it felt horrifyingly real.