“Well, surprise,” Nate murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to my temple like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You’d be surprised to know the whole story.”
His voice is teasing, but there’s something beneath the surface—something he’s not saying yet. My heart does that stupid skip thing again.
“Melbourne did a miracle for sure,” Sebastian chuckles, sipping his drink like he’s watching a movie unfold.
Nate rolls his eyes with a groan, like he’s been waiting to get something off his chest for a while. “Don’t blame Melbourne, even though we met on the plane on my way back home.”
Blame?
That word hooks in my chest. Wait—what?
“She’s not…” Sebastian starts, then stops himself with a shake of his head.
Who’s not? My eyes flick from Sebastian to Nate. Something twists in my gut.
“Christ, no,” Nate finally says, exasperated. “When I got there, her husband greeted me like I was a bottle of champagne at a swinger party. Asked me to join them in a poly thing.”
Sebastian bursts into laughter, practically choking on air. “Interesting. And let me guess… you chickened out?”
“Faster than a rabbit spotting a wolf,” Nate deadpans, but even he chuckles at the memory.
I stare at him, trying to hold onto my expression, but I’m already slipping.
To find out a lie. Nate’s words on the plane crush into my brain.
Oh, God. He was dating someone. That’s why he went to Melbourne.
The conversation feels like it’s spiraling out of my reach—until Nate turns to Sebastian and says something that slams the brakes on my thoughts.
“Do you remember Izzy?”
Sebastian looks at me like someone just lit a firework between us. “No way.”
“She’s the girl from all those years ago,” Nate says softly, turning toward me with that smile—that slow, intimate one that makes the world quiet. He lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles gently, reverently. “Call it fate.”
My heart stutters.
He… talked about me?
Me?
All those years ago, he remembered me. Mentioned me.
I’m on the verge of tears and laughter all at once. My chest is tight with something I can’t name—hope, maybe. Or disbelief. Or both.
“Why am I expecting a but?” he murmurs, unable to keep the tremor out of my voice.
Nate sighs—long, frustrated, and deep, like he’s tired of fighting shadows that won’t leave him alone.
I squeeze his hand before I even realize I’m doing it. Just… something to let him know I’m here. Still here. Still listening.
“I get it now,” he mutters, voice thick. “The fucking tradition that haunts you.”
Sebastian’s eyebrows shoot up. He sits straighter, expression sobering. “Oh man… she’s your chosen wife?”
My breath catches.
Nate shrugs like it’s obvious. “Not that I’m complaining.” He wraps his arm around me and tugs me into his side, like he needs me close. “Maybe it’s not a curse after all.”
