Page 2 of Vegas with my Ex’s Best Friends

The room keeps moving—Liam still talking, Ethan still at the window looking down at the city forty floors below—but between Andrew and me, everything stops.

My stomach does another unwelcome dive.

Andrew Hayes. Connor's business partner. Staying here. In this penthouse. For weeks.

I never asked for names. Connor never gave them. I made sure he never knew the details—never introduced Connor to Andrew, never said more than “some guy from college” before I shut the whole mess down and moved to Portland. Connor knew I'd been hurt. He didn't know by who.

Liam has gone quiet. Ethan has turned from the window. Andrew's hand flexes at his side like he's stopping himself from reaching out. His mouth opens —

I turn on my heel and walk straight to my bedroom.

Not running. That distinction matters. I walk—controlled, measured—like I suddenly remembered something important I need to grab. Nothing to see here. Everything is completely fine.

The door closes behind me. I lock it.

I stand with my back against the wood, heart hammering, and try to find my lungs again.

Okay. So. Andrew Hayes is one of Connor's partners. He just walked in looking like that after seven years, after everything, and I didn't say a single word. Not even a polite “hi.” I just turned and retreated like a champion of emotional regulation.

This is fine.

Three men. One penthouse. Ten weeks.

No way this ends clean.

I press the heels of my hands against my eyes.

I had four perfect days—silence, room service, that ridiculous pool, the luxury of not thinking about anything that hurt. A good, practical plan. Then the universe dropped Andrew through the door like a punchline I didn't see coming.

His voice comes through the wood, quiet.

“Riley.”

I go completely still. Back against the locked door, my own heartbeat suddenly too loud for the room.

Seven years, and my body still knows that voice. He spent one stupid night with someone else then vanished. Proof I didn't need people who leave. I’d already learned that lesson at sixteen. Andrew just confirmed it.

I don't answer.

But I don't move either.

Chapter two

Chapter Two—Andrew

Ishouldn't have come down the hall this fast.

The words were out of my mouth before I thought better of it.

“Riley.”

The silence behind the door lands like a verdict.

I rest my hand against the doorframe, forehead hovering inches from the wood, trying to remember every version of this moment I rehearsed. None of them started like this. With her locking herself away before I even got the chance to explain.

Maybe she shifts on the other side. Maybe she's standing right there, same as me. Both of us breathing on opposite sides of the door.Liam and Ethan don’t follow me—they recognize they just walked into someone else's history. Smart men. They know better than to step into someone else's war.

I had speeches prepared. That's the part that stings the most. Months of running through every possible version: the apology first, the explanation first, the one where I let her speak and take whatever she gave me.