God, I hate lying to her. It was the one rule we always had—no bullshit.
Then again, theunspokenrule was don’t break each other’s hearts. And she blew that one to pieces.
Her green eyes glow, all water and fire, beautiful and raw. But then, just like that, her face hardens. “I’m gonna pretend you’re not lying to me, Gargoyle.” And with that, she slips out of my grip and disappears from my room.
The rest of the day is a goddamn performance.
I walk along the beach with Jack, pretending to be one of those approachable, easygoing guys who live simple lives and smile for cameras.
Yeah, no.
I’m not approachable. There’s nothing simple about me—just layers and walls and tightly wound control. And humility? That left the building years ago.
Emma keeps her distance. Always two steps behind.
By the time we’re shooting what theyswearis the final shot of the day, I find her sitting on a lounge chair, staring out at the water, completely zoned out.
I’d trade my entire bank account to know what the hell she’s thinking right now. Just five seconds. That’s all I’d need.
“We done?” I ask Sam, not taking my eyes off her.
“Yeah. For today, at least. Tomorrow, we shoot the office scenes.”
“Perfect.” My voice is flat, but my heart’s a riot. The love of my life is drowning in sadness right in front of me, and I’m supposed to just go back to business as usual? “Sam, can you get everyone out of the house?”
Sam looks at me like heknows. Maybe he does. Maybe this is what regret looks like to outsiders.
“Of course, Mr. Walker.” He squeezes my shoulder gently. “Good luck.”
Thanks. I could use it. But instead of saying that, I just nod.
One by one, they all leave.
Everyone except Jack—still lying across her legs like a loyal little guardian.
I walk barefoot through the sand. For the final shot, I threw on a pair of white linen pants rolled up to my ankles and a light blue shirt, the top three buttons undone.
“I’ve never seen you wear white,” she says, eyes still fixed on Jack, her hand resting on his back.
“You know I’ve always felt safer in black.”
I sit down beside her, letting my gaze rest on the endless turquoise stretch of ocean in front of us. The seagulls shriek like the pounding in my chest.
“It’s not the black that makes you feel safe,” she says quietly. “It’s that you can hide in the shadows.”
Damn. She’s right.
“And you…” I murmur, “You always shone too damn bright. Is that why you ran from me?”
Her hand goes still on Jack’s back, and for the first time, she looks at me.
When our eyes lock, I don’t see anything. No emotion. No flicker. No trace of the girl who once knew every inch of my heart.
“I didn’t run from you, Luca,” she says softly, firmly. “Don’t get it twisted.”
I turn toward her fully, take both her hands in mine. Jack lets out a whine at the sudden lack of attention. “Then tell me. Please. Tell me what I did that made you leave.”
I sound pathetic. Desperate. Fractured. And God, I hate it. But that’s what I am. That’s who I am with her—no armor, no pretense, just pain wrapped in skin.
