“It’s nothing,” I assure her, turning back toward the pool. “He’s just a guy.”
She doesn’t believe me, but she lets it go. The conversation drifts on around us. Ava has already moved on, gossip spent, the group laughing about something else like my entire world didn’t just tilt on its axis.
Footsteps echo on the stone stairs. Someone whistles low.
Valerie appears first, stunning in a sunshine-yellow dress, skin vibrant with a sun-kissed glow. She looks to Scott, smiling, as though she enjoyed being with him tonight. Scott walks a step behind her, steady, composed, the ghost of a satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Seeing them together is like a punch that has landed right between my ribs. My breath catches so hard; the glass trembles in my hand.
Valerie peels off toward the group, instantly swallowed by the chorus of “How was it?” and “Tell us everything!” She sinks into a chair with effortless confidence.
“It was great,” she announces, voice honey sweet. “I enjoyed our time together.”
“And Scott?” someone teases.
She glances back at him, grinning like they share a secret. “Surprisingly…tolerable.”
Laughter ripples through the lounge. Scott gives a silent nod, eyes scanning the group—until they lock on mine.
My mind swarms with every awful question I’ve been avoiding all night.
Is he moving on?
Did he think of me the whole time?
Or did he forget I existed the second she came into view?
A sick wave rolls through my stomach, hot and sour. I told myself I was prepared. Told myself distance was best. But one look at him and that tether between us yanks tight around my heart.
I tear my gaze away.
Damon nudges my knee, voice low. “You good?”
“I’m fine.” My smile is plastic, but it doesn’t fool him. His brow lifts, knowing. He doesn’t push. Smart man.
Miranda sweeps in like she’s been waiting for blood in the water, clapping her hands with bright, predatory glee. “Group debrief! Highs, lows, awkward moments, romantic sparks—everything. Cameras are rolling!”
The collective groan could rattle the palm trees.
Of course she wants our psyches on display.
Valerie goes first, keeping her responses vague and surface-level. Food, view, ambiance. Warm but noncommittal. Nothing that would give the editors too much to work with.
Then Miranda’s gaze clicks onto me like a sniper scope. “Lyla, you’re someone who builds other people’s love stories for a living. Watching one potentially unfold tonight… What does that stir up for you?”
The question lands hard. If there weren’t twelve lenses pointed at my face, I’d rather answer with a slap across her Botoxed cheek. Instead, I straighten and smooth my expression into the same calm I use on hysterical brides.
“Honestly?” My voice comes out sugar-sweet and razor sharp. “I think it’s great. Some people need to explore every shiny new option before they figure out what they actually want.” I let my eyes flick to Scott for half a second. “Watching someone chase that? It’s the most familiar thing I’ve seen all week. But I learned a long time ago not to hold my breath waiting for the process to finish.”
A sliver of vicious pride flares in my chest.
That felt good.
Scott’s jaw tightens. He seems…alarmed. Like he just heard what I said, and his first instinct is to immediately know why. His eyes find mine, searching, frantic, like he’s trying to trace the damage back to its source. For a suspended second, he looks ready to stand up and drag me somewhere private.
I don’t give him the chance, tearing my gaze away before he can speak.
Whatever that look means, I’m not interested.
