Then his voice drops, eyes flicking to the window, the bright sweep of the ocean beyond it. “But you’re right. We need to stay focused. This ends when the wedding does. You head back to Boston.”
“It’ll be a clean break. No complications.” He exhales. “That’s safer.”
The words land like a door slamming shut.
But he’s right. Four days. That's all we have left.
And then what? He goes back to New York, to his penthouse and whatever he needs to do.I don’t even know what.
I go back to Boston, to my office above a laundromat that smells like dryer sheets.
We'll be strangers again.
Except we won't.
Because strangers don't know what the other sounds like when they come.
"Clean break," I echo, forcing brightness into my voice. "No complications. Safer."
We sit there for a moment, hands linked.
I hold the smile in place, like this is all exactly under control.
His eyes search mine like he's looking for cracks in the armor. I don't let him find any.
"Sounds good," I add, even though nothing about this sounds good at all.
My phone buzzes, shattering the moment—and I’ve never been so relieved for a distraction.
Barbie:Don’t forget brunch in 30. Hearing some rumors… need to catch up.
I show West the screen.
“Speaking of complications,” I mutter.
His phone buzzes next. He glances at it, and his posture goes rigid.
“What?” I ask.
“My mother.” He shows me the screen.
Mom:Darling, I’ve arranged for you to meet Vivienne Grant at 2 p.m. Pool bar. She’s on the board of three museums and absolutely adores hockey. She’s also expressed interest in our firm. This could be perfect. Don’t be late.
Another candidate. Another woman his mother has pre-selected, vetted, and scheduled like a business meeting. And this one seems to come with career expectations.
“Our firm?” I ask carefully.
“My family’s law practice.” His voice is flat. “Prescott Law Group. My mother’s been pushing me to join.”
“And you don’t want to.”
“I haven’t decided anything. But it seems my mother and Vivienne are already aligned.” He sets his phone down with controlled precision.
“Fantastic.” His jaw tightens.
The bitterness in his voice makes my chest ache.
“Want me to handle this one?” I offer.
