“You love her,” I say quietly.
“More than anything.” She stops, looking down at the gravel path. “It’s just… complicated. Growing up, after my mom died, my dad remarried fast. His new wife—Ariana’s mom—she was different. Strict. Cold. I think she saw me as a reminder of everything my dad had before her.”
I stay quiet, letting her talk.
Sabrina’s voice softens. “Ariana got all the love I used to know. And she deserved it—God, she’s sweet—but part of me still hated that I was outside of it. I promised myself she’d never feel that kind of emptiness.”
That hits harder than I expect. There’s something raw in her honesty—no sugarcoating, no self-pity. Just truth.
“You did good by her,” I say. “She’s lucky to have you.”
Her eyes meet mine for a second, and I can see she believes me. That matters more than I thought it would.
She changes the subject a few minutes later, probably sensing the weight sitting between us. “Tell me about your parents.”
I sigh. “Strained, but fine. My father expects a lot. Always has. My mother… she’s gentler. Keeps him from driving me insane. We don’t always see eye to eye, but they’re good people. They raised me right.”
She smiles faintly. “I can tell.”
We keep walking, trading pieces of ourselves in the rhythm of the afternoon. It’s easy. Uncomplicated.
Eventually, she looks at me again. “The guys from the bar—your friends. You’ve known them a long time, haven’t you?”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling at the memory. “College. First day, actually. We were all shoved into this miserable icebreaker activity, and somehow we ended up getting kicked out of it together. Instant friendship through shared punishment.”
Sabrina laughs, the sound low and bright. “Of course you did.”
I nod. “Coleman’s the calm one. Dean’s the loud one. Harvey’s the smartass. Nathan’s the one who tries to keep us out oftrouble.”
“And you?”
“The one who pays the bail when we ignore Nathan.”
She snorts. “Sounds about right.”
We find a bench near the water, and I sit while she perches next to me, pulling her knees up slightly.
I tell her about Coleman’s twins—Paige and Payton—and how they have the whole group wrapped around their fingers. How they call me Uncle Lang sometimes when they want something. How Coleman pretends to hate it but secretly loves it.
“They’re like my nieces,” I say, smiling faintly. “Bright little monsters who can talk me into anything.”
Sabrina leans her chin on her knees, smiling softly. “You’re good with kids?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You are,” she says quietly, like she’s already decided it for me.
The sunlight catches in her hair again, and something in my chest tightens.
For the first time since we met, I’m not thinking about deals or legacy or what this marriage was supposed to be.
I’m just thinking about how right it feels sitting next to her.
Like maybe this was always where I was supposed to end up.
We keep walking through the garden long after we’ve run out of things to talk about. The air smells faintly of rain and magnolia, and sunlight flickers through the trees, hitting her hair like copper fire.
I can’t stop watching her.
