When the call came through, he guessed it was Knox. At least he gave me privacy to answer.
He offered to grab some iced tea and pastries. But damn it, he came back with the tea and handed it to me. That’s when Knox heard him.
And part of me knows Chad chose that moment to do it so he could eavesdrop.
I waited until he returned to the counter before finishing the conversation.
He definitely saw me hang up, though. And if everyone else can tell I’m upset, a guy I’ve known my whole life will pick up on it instantly.
I press a hand to my forehead and try to steady my breathing, but the internal struggle twisting inside my chest feels alive.
I keep being thrown into situations where everything I do feels wrong, even when it’s the best bad choice.
When I saw Chad on the bridge, it freaked me out. He told me he was here for a photo shoot with his company and asked me to go to lunch.
At first, I turned him down. But when he insisted, I thought maybe it was a chance to talk. Mia had just told me I needed to clear the air with him. Granted, even she probably wouldn’t approve ofthis—lunch with an ex while I’m honeymooning. It’s so far-fetched, it makesmelook like the bad guy when I’m not.
Chad gets served ten minutes later and makes his way back with a tray of pastries. The smell of butter and sugar wafts around him when he reaches me and sets the tray on the table.
“Warm pastries for the lady,” he announces in that overly hearty voice, like we’re still the college couple grabbing food between lectures instead of two strangers pretending nothing’s wrong.
“Thank you.” I sit a little straighter.
“Everything okay?” He sounds a little too eager and looks a little too bright eyed.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?” His voice is gentle, and sympathy shines in his eyes, but it feels like he’s pushing on a wound just to see how deep it goes. “You look…upset.”
I give him a stiff smile, reach for a croissant, and scuff it down. “I’ll be fine.”
Before I got the call, he was telling me about this so-called project of his that brought him here. I do believe there is a project; it sounds like there is from what he’s told me. But I think he positioned himself so he could be in Italy.
“It sounded like you told your husband I was here.” He studies my face, searching to look beyond what I want to show him.
“I did. Was I supposed to keep that from him?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “But I’m sure he wasn’t overly fond to hear that.”
“Of course not. And it’s understandable.”
Chad smirks. “I don’t really care what he thinks. He’s working, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he’s working.”
“Who leaves their wife by herself to go to work while they’re on their honeymoon? You two have been married for what? Two days? That’s a red flag in my book, Isla.”
I can’t even tell him he’s wrong or try to justify the accusation. The only excuse that would work is that Knox needed the money, and we both know that’s far, far from the truth.
I straighten, wiping the frustration off my face as best as I can. “He’s a busy man,” I lie, because I refuse to unpack this mess with the last person on earth who should see me vulnerable right now.
“Busy, my ass. I read an article from last summer where he took some model to the Seychelles, and the reporter droned on and on about howyour husbandwas glued to her twenty-four/seven. According to your story, he would have just started dating you at the time. Now, you two are married, and he has to fucking work.” His eyes linger on me a second too long, assessing, curious, and suspicious.
I look away, pulling my hair over my shoulder, trying to find some version of control. But all I feel is foolish and exposed, like Knox managed to peel me open and expose my wounds.
“I said he’s a busy man.” I meet his eyes again. “And what happened months ago with some woman is nothing to do with him and me.” Isn’t it, though? What if that woman was the same one I saw Knox with at the wedding? What do I know? She could be. Knox wasgluedto her.
“Come on, Isla. This isn’t you. You have better sense than this,” he seethes. “And fuck, you haven’t even mentioned my gift.”
