"You were working."
"Still. I should have checked in."
"The phones were out."
"I should have found a way."
I turned to look at him. His profile was sharp in the candlelight, jaw set, eyes fixed on the flickering flames.
"You came back," I said. "That's what matters."
He was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was rough.
"This reminds me of that night. On the terrace."
My heart stuttered. "What night?"
"The site visit. Second night." He turned to meet my eyes. "You couldn't sleep, so you went out to the terrace. I found you there."
The memory crashed over me like a wave.
The terrace had been cold. Late September, past midnight, the kind of chill that settled into your bones if you stood still long enough. I'd been at the railing, looking out at the darkness, trying to breathe.
The venue walkthrough had been endless. Elizabeth's mother fussing over flower arrangements, debating between ivory and cream as if the fate of the world depended on it. My father discussing logistics with the hotel manager, all business, allstrategy. Elizabeth herself radiant and excited, talking about table settings and first dances while I nodded along like a puppet whose strings had gone slack.
I'd excused myself after dinner. Claimed a headache. Retreated to my room and stared at the ceiling for hours, unable to sleep.
At 2 AM, I'd given up and slipped out to the terrace.
The view was beautiful. Rolling hills beneath a canopy of stars, the distant gleam of the Hudson in the moonlight. The air smelled like autumn, change, and endings.
I stood at the railing, trying to imagine returning here in a month. Standing at an altar. Saying vows I didn't mean. Kissing a woman I didn't want.
Living a lie for the rest of my life.
Footsteps behind me.
"Can't sleep?"
I turned. There he was.
The man from the fountain. Security, judging by his uniform. Tall, broad-shouldered, his face a study of hard angles in the dim light. His eyes were gray. I remembered that specifically—gray like storm clouds, like the sky before rain.
The same gray eyes that had haunted my dreams since the fountain.
"I didn't think anyone would be here," I said.
"I'm always here. Night shift." He moved to stand beside me at the railing, leaving a respectful distance between us. Not too close, but close enough. "Checking the perimeter."
"Is the perimeter secure?"
"For now."
We stood in silence for a while. Two men looking at the same view, sharing the same darkness. It should have felt awkward. A stranger in the night. But something about his presence was steadying. Solid. Like a wall you could lean against.
"Do you ever feel like you're living someone else's life?"
The question slipped out before I could stop it. Inappropriately honest for a conversation with a stranger. The kind of thing I'd never said to anyone, not even Tristan.
