Page 59 of Covetous

Isabella gives me a once-over, her hazel eyes sparkling with admiration. “You look good, girl.” Her expression then turns serious, concern etched across her features. “But you also look miserable. Have you lost weight? Is it stress, or are you on some new diet?”

I force a laugh, but it comes out short and unconvincing. “Wow. You really don’t hold back, do you?” The truth is, I’ve lost seventeen pounds from stress, but everyone assumes I’ve been dieting for my upcoming wedding.

Leaning in closer, Isabella softens her voice. “You know who else has been looking miserable? My brother.” Her words catch me off guard, and a flicker of hope mixed with apprehension makes my heart thud in my chest.

“Wh-what do you mean?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“He’s been moping for weeks now. Ever since Cape Cod,” she responds.

Taking a deep breath, I attempt to rationalize the situation. “I mean, he and Esme broke up, so it’s probably that.” While Liv is off chasing her dreams at USC, Esme and I are stuck in our suffocating house, dancing around each other like strangers. Between juggling my classes and planning my wedding, I haven’t seen much of her. And when we do cross paths, there’s an awkward tension between us, as if we’ve run out of words to say to each other. We opt for the path of least resistance—avoiding each other, even though we share the same roof.

The corner of Isabella’s mouth twitches in a slight smirk. “Yeah…no. This isn’t about her.” She leans in closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “This is about you. He told me everything.”

Everything? My eyes widen, and I feel my cheeks flush. “He told you we hooked up?”

Isabella’s mouth drops open and she gasps, her hand flying to her chest. “You did?”

I palm my forehead, realizing my mistake. “Fuck. You said everything.”

“I meant how he feels about you. But you had sex?” Her voice rises on the word sex, and I glance around nervously, hoping no one overheard her, especially her parents.

“It was a one-time thing,” I trail off, then shake my head. “Ian and I were on a break.”

Isabella’s gaze drops down to my engagement ring—the cool metal weighing my finger down—and raises an eyebrow. “Are you still on a break?”

Shifting my weight from one foot to the other, I shrink under the burden of her question. “Yes.”

She cocks her head, studying me intently. “But you’re still getting married?”

Taking a deep breath, I steel myself for what I’m about to say. “I’m going to call it off.”

Isabella’s eyes grow wide, her mouth forming a perfect O. “You are?”

I nod, my gaze drifting off into the distance as I reflect on the state of my relationship with Ian. Things haven’t been good between us, especially since our disastrous cake tasting two weeks ago. When Ian went in for a kiss after wiping some icing from my lip, I instinctively pulled back, not wanting to send mixed signals while we were on a break.

My reaction embarrassed him, particularly since the baker noticed. He sulked for the rest of our appointment, keeping his thoughts to himself until we were outside in the parking lot. When I gently reminded him that we were on a break, he blew up, yelling at me for embarrassing him. In a fit of anger, he left me standing in the parking lot without a ride home, speeding away with his tires screeching on the asphalt. We haven’t talked since.

Isabella’s smile widens, and she reaches out to squeeze my arm. “Just so you know, I’m totally okay with you and my brother being together.”

Confused, I furrow my brows and tilt my head. “That’s…news.” Thinking back to all the things she said about him at our sleepover, I ask, “You are?”

She nods enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear. “I don’t know what you did to him…well, maybe I do now.” She laughs, and I roll my eyes, my cheeks heating up again. “But seriously. This is real for him.” She quickly adds, “Don’t tell him I told you that.”

“I won’t,” I promise, trying to process this new information.

Before I can dislodge the lump in my throat and come up with anything else to say, Isabella drags me along toward her parents. “Come say hi to my mom and dad.”

Eleanor gives me a warm hug, the kind of motherly embrace that fills me with comfort for a moment. She’s always been kind to me, ever since high school. I’d never met the senator before, as he traveled to DC a lot for work. He shakes my hand, his camera-ready smile polished to perfection. “Judge George Wyatt’s granddaughter,” he says. “It’s a pleasure. He was a great man.”

“Yes, he was,” I agree, memories of fishing with Grandpa flashing through my mind. I can’t help but wonder how the senator knows that I’m Judge George Wyatt’s granddaughter. Wyatt is a common last name, and while my resemblance to my dad—and his resemblance to his dad—might be the reason the senator made the connection, it still seems like a bit of a stretch. Perhaps Isabella told him, or maybe he ran a background check on me due to my friendship with his daughter. I’ve heard that he’s been known to overstep boundaries and keep close tabs on those in his children’s lives. I don’t know how to feel about that.

“Victor’s here.” Eleanor’s voice is full of delight, her eyes sparkling. A jolt runs through me, and my heart races like crazy. Even before I see him, I can feel his presence, that familiar tingle running down my spine. His crisp, clean yet intoxicating scent wraps around me, making me heady.

“Hello, Skylar.”

Turning to face him, I force a calm smile on my lips as his glacier-blue eyes lock on mine. He’s so goddamn beautiful—unfairly so. The tattoos peeking out from beneath the collar of his shirt only add to his ruggedly appealing look. His starved gaze reveals how unraveled he is, just like me.

“How have you been?” I ask, my cheeks burning under his intense stare.

---