Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 73462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
But now?
Now I’m not thinking about leverage. Or power. Or safety.
I’m thinking about how Sebastian’s breath hitched when he came inside me. How he touched me like I wasn’t a contestant in this competition or a distraction, but something real.
Something his.
This was supposed to be calculated. Controlled.
Instead, I’m tangled up in a gorgeous rock star with intense heat and the kind of quiet that only happens when someone sees all the parts of you that you never meant to show.
And for the first time since I got to this island, I’m scared.
Because love wasn’t part of the plan.
We’ve drifted to the other side of the pool, and Sebastian is still holding onto me, but his eyes are closed.
“Round two?” I say.
“Mmm…” he moans. “Sounds great…Emily.”
EPISODE 227
YOU’VE LOST THAT LOVIN’ FEELIN’
Sienna
The ocean doesn’t soothe me.
That’s supposed to be the cliché, right? That the sound of the waves and the smell of salt in the air washes everything clean. That walking barefoot in the sand is grounding. That the horizon reminds you how small your problems really are.
Not today.
The tide churns like my insides, and every step I take feels like I’m dragging my broken heart behind me. I don’t even know how far I’ve walked.
Just me. Just the image of Brett with Jake burned into the back of my eyes. Jake’s hand tangled in Brett’s shirt. That kiss. So desperate. So real. The kind you don’t fake.
The kind of kiss that says this isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last.
I press a hand to my stomach as I walk, trying to breathe through the tightness in my chest. I didn’t even know I was hoping for anything until that hope got ripped out by the root. Stupid. So stupid.
I meant nothing to him. Or maybe I was just a placeholder. A temporary fix for something that was never really mine to begin with.
Ahead, a burst of laughter cuts through the wind. I almost turn back, but it’s too late. They’ve already seen me.
Ariel waves. She looks like a beach goddess, barefoot and radiant. Standing next to her is her mother, Cheryl, and Jazz, her best friend from Alabama.
And then there’s Evangeline. Composed, as always. Though she’s looking a little green around the gills.
A small wedding arch is set up, the only sign of what’s to come. It's simple but elegant—light wood anchored in the sand, draped with soft ivory fabric that ripples with the breeze. A few fresh blooms are tucked into the corners—white roses, maybe, or something softer, more coastal. It stands alone against the backdrop of the sea.
“Hey!” Ariel jogs toward me. “Sienna, wait up!”
I try to smile. I really do. But I’m not sure it lands.
“I’ve been looking for you and Emily,” she says, brushing her hair out of her face. Then she scrutinizes me further. “Are you okay?”
I hesitate.
No.
I’m not.
But this is her moment. She doesn’t need my baggage dragging behind it like a cloud.
The people near the wedding arch are smiling and laughing. All except Evangeline. I like her, but I’m not sure she knows how to laugh.
Ariel is glowing in that way only people who are truly, deeply loved seem to glow. It’s painful to look at.
I’m sure I look like a sewer rat next to her. No one deeply loves me.
Back to being the fucking wallflower.
“Sienna?”
Right. She asked if I was okay.
Not even slightly.
“I’m fine,” I say, forcing a smile. “Just needed to walk it off.”
Ariel studies me. She doesn’t push, but the look in her eyes says she doesn’t buy it either.
“Come back with me,” she urges gently. “We’re finishing the final details at the site. Everything’s almost ready.”
I glance past her at the women as a few staffers join them. I’m a bridesmaid, after all. I should be part of this.
“Come on,” Ariel says again. “Please?”
I nod, mostly because I don’t have the energy to say no.
“Don’t forget the floral arc needs to be re-anchored,” Evangeline is saying to the staffers. “The wind’s going to rip it apart by tomorrow morning if it’s left like this.”
Jazz peers over her sunglasses at me. “You doesn’t look like someone who gives a damn about flowers right now.”
Everyone goes still.
I try to swallow, but my throat’s too tight.
Ariel shoots Jazz a warning look, but I lift a hand. “It’s fine.”
Jazz shrugs. “Hey, I’m just saying what we’re all thinking. You’ve got heartbreak written all over you.”
“You don’t even know me,” I murmur.
She pulls off her sunglasses, revealing eyes sharp enough to cut glass. “You’re right. But I know that look. I’ve worn it.”
I look away, pretending to study the arch again, though the breeze has kicked up and the fabric’s started to twist on one side.
“Well,” Cheryl says, brushing off her linen shorts, “the arch looks solid and the weather’s lookin’ good. I’d say we’re sittin’ pretty.”