Too late. He was hurting me now, but I didn’t say that. I lifted my chin and forced my expression into something that I hoped resembled acceptance instead of devastation.
“Right. That makes sense.”
“Harlow…”
“No, really.” I stepped back, putting distance between us. “You’re right. It would be complicated and messy. And we’ve got enough of that going around.”
He reached for me, and I moved back again. If he touched me right now, I would break, and I would never be able to put myself back together.
“I should go check on… something.” I gestured toward the house. “Wedding stuff. Kaia probably needs help with… things.”
“Harlow.”
“Good talk.” I backed away. “Really cleared the air. Very productive.”
“Har…”
“See you at the rehearsal dinner.”
I turned and walked toward the house, even though I wanted to run.
So many years of waiting. Hoping. Imagining how it would feel to have Owen look at me the way I looked at him.
And now I knew that would never happen.
CHAPTER 9
OWEN
Standing on the terrace,I watched as the sun rose from behind the endless ocean. It was so peaceful, and yet my mind was wreaking havoc on me. I hated how Cam and I left things. I needed… We needed closure so we could move on.
For some reason, I felt like I needed to fix this first thing in the morning. Like the sooner I fixed it, the sooner things could get back to normal, though I wasn’t completely sure they’d ever be normal again.
I walked through my room and up the stairs, stopping in front of Cam’s bedroom door, suddenly regretting coming, but I needed to fix this. I reached for the handle and lifted my hand, tapping once before shoving the door open with more force than I intended.
And there she was.
“Cam…” Her name died on my tongue.
Camryn sat up in bed, eyes wide, but it wasn’t her face that stopped me cold. It was Trystan in her bed with his hand still between her thighs.
My breath locked in my throat. The scene burning into my brain: her flushed skin, his smug face, the rumpled sheets that told a story I didn’t want to read.
I had no right to be angry. None. But I was. I was furious, and I didn’t even understand why. The rage bubbled up from somewhere deep and irrational, mixing with shame and hurt until I couldn’t tell them apart anymore.
A bitter laugh tore from my throat. “Un-fucking-believeable.” I shook my head and spun away. My feet carried me down the hallway on autopilot, but I could hear her scrambling behind me.
“Owen.”
I didn’t stop, just kept moving as my brain tried to scream over the rage that I had no right to be angry. I cheated on her. But in my irrational rage, finding her in bed with Trystan proved that she was using me the entire relationship.
“Let him go,” Trystan shouted from the bedroom.
“Owen, stop.”
I whipped around, and there she was, barefoot, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt. The anger surged again, irrational and consuming.
“What, Cam?” My voice cracked like a whip, sharper than I meant. “What?”
