“We deserve it,” he murmurs into my hair.
My eyes slam shut, more tears leaking through. A debilitating wave of guilt crashes over me. Guilt for the time spent with Chase. For keeping that information from my boyfriend. For my shameful thoughts, the chain-smoking, the secretive texts.
Three nights ago, I was holding another man’s hand, all while Alex was creating this romantic getaway for us.
I’m horrible.
A cracked sob breaks free, and I squeeze him tighter. Try to bury the anguish before it kills the moment.
He pulls back, a small frown furling between his eyes. “What’s wrong? You look upset.”
I shake my head. “Just emotional. Happy.”
Swallowing, he nods, but there’s a wary glaze over his eyes. “What did you want to tell me?”
“Oh, um…” I tuck a tear-drenched strand of hair behind my ear. My thoughts go crooked, my heart on a teeter-totter. I have no idea how Alex is going to react to this. “Well, there’s this opportunity. It feels big. Important.”
“Okay.” The frown deepens. Alex scoots back, his gaze shifting to the scattered mess on all sides of me. “You’re working on music?”
“Yeah. Yes.” I clear my throat. “Tag was asked to fill in for a live band at his friend’s wedding. Declan. And his fiancée, Lillian.”
He blinks at me.
“They go way back. From high school. You probably met him once when—”
“The point, Annalise.”
“Right.” My voice hitches. “Anyway, he said yes, of course. And he asked me to join him. To sing. You know, cover songs. It’s in less than two weeks…”
His eyes narrow. “What else?”
“I’ll, um…need that Saturday night off work. If that’s okay. Kenna already said she’d cover my shift.”
“What else?”
There’s a ringing in my ears.
My chest nearly caves in, taking my air with it. It’s like he already knows there’s more. Something worse hiding in the things unsaid.
Closing my eyes, I wring my hands together and blurt it out. “Chase is performing too.”
Silence.
I can’t open my eyes, too terrified of what I’ll see.
The timing is terrible. Alex just presented me with a week-long vacation to Thailand, and I’m ambushing him with news of singing live music with a man he actively hates.
He witnessed our dynamic firsthand. Felt the tension. Saw the way Chase was looking at me, the way we sang together like we were the only two people in the room.
I inhale a shaky breath, bracing for the fallout.
My eyes flutter back open.
He doesn’t say anything at first. Just studies me, jaw tight, lips pressed into a rigid line. That eager, travel-high glow in his eyes dims, as if I’ve stolen something from him.
“Got it,” he says, nodding to himself.
My stomach twists. “Alex—”
