She barely gets the words out when Jeremy goes still.
His head tilts, smile fading.
And then I see it too.
Asher Cross, in loose linen pants and sunglasses worth more than my apartment deposit, is strolling toward the pool bar.
And clinging to his arm like a decorative scarf?
Celeste Monroe.
Jeremy reacts first. “Don’t panic.”
Maya’s smile drops. “What?”
I don’t even have to follow his gaze. I already feel it.
Celeste’s gauzy dress floats behind her as though she summoned it from a perfume commercial. Her laugh is perfectly modulated. Her manicured hand rests on Asher’s arm like she paid extra for a good grip.
Maya goes silent.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
Jeremy mutters, “This island isn’t big enough for her ego and my rage.”
Maya stands. “I need air.”
“Maya—” I grab her hand, but she’s already moving, teeth clenched. “I’m not doing this.”
She bolts.
Jeremy is already waving me on. “Go. I’ll babysit Prince Privilege and his Instagram filter. No promises I won’t hex her, though.”
I mouth thank you and follow.
Maya’s pacing near the outdoor showers, arms folded tight.
Her jaw trembles. Her voice doesn’t. “It’s not even that he brought her. Or that he has to. It’s how smug he looked doing it.”
“You mattered,” I say. “She’s noise. You were the real thing.”
She finally looks at me. Her walls are cracked. It breaks my heart. But this time, I’m not letting her patch them up alone.
“Come with me,” I whisper. “To my cottage. For tonight. No drama. No pretending. Just… air.”
After a moment, she nods. And we walk back, shoulder to shoulder, both of us secretly loving that Jeremy is at the pool bar, dramatically miming a middle finger salute in Celeste’s direction with his cocktail straw.
The cottage smells like buttered popcorn, cheap champagne, and the faint chemical bite of a face mask that definitely wasn’t dermatologist-approved.
Maya’s stretched out on the bed with wet nails and a chilled wine glass balanced between her thighs. Jeremy is lounging on a floor pillow, robe open, one slipper missing, holding a joint like it’s a mic. I’m cross-legged on the floor, attempting to paint my toes but smudging three for every one I get right.
“You know what she did?” Maya huffs, waving her hand. “She called methirstyin the comments. Thirsty. Like I wasn’t the one whotaughtAsher how to unbutton my shirt with his teeth.”
Jeremy lets out a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a gasp. “Please hold while I recover from the image of Hollywood’s million dollar man going down on you like a gentleman.”
“Ugh, he was so good at that too,” Maya whines.
I snort. “Girl, you want more wine or a bat? I’ve got both.”
