Page 74 of If the Ring Fits

“Um, Nina and Hunter want to meet up for breakfast, so I’m going to head down,” I explain.

“Okay, sounds good,” he replies easily. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Great. See you in a bit!” I wince at the overly bright tone. Could I be more awkward? Shaking my head, I regretfully slip his shirt off and throw on a sundress and sandals, determined to pull myself together. But as I leave the room, I throw one last glance at the bathroom door, wishing I was on the other side of it.

In the breakfast hall, I pile my plate high with fluffy pancakes drizzled in maple syrup and fresh berries. Perhaps I’m not eating my feelings but I’m definitely eating my lust. I spot Nina and Hunter at a table near the windows, overlooking the beach, and slide into the beachside chic chair—half wood, half rope—across from them with a carefree, “Hey.”

I barely have a chance to dig in before they pounce.

“How were things in the honeymoon suite last night?” Nina asks too casually.

“Not a honeymoon suite,” I deflect. “You’re about two months early.”

“Oh, come on. That kiss last night? You and Adrian set the sky on fire!”

Hunter nods emphatically. “Seriously, the fireworks had nothing on you two.”

I squirm under their inquisitive stares, stuffing a forkful of pancake into my mouth to buy time. How can I explain the complexity of our evolving relationship when I barely understand it myself?

I shrug. “It was just for show. You know, keeping up appearances and all that.”

Nina arches a disbelieving brow. “Riiiight. Because platonic fake-daters always kiss like they’re reenacting the kiss-in-the-rain scene fromThe Notebook.”

Hunter leans forward. “Are you sure the farce isn’t running away from you?”

“Look, guys, I appreciate the concern, but I’ve got this under control,” I assure them, even as my stomach twists—must be the metric ton of sugar I’m ingesting. “Nothing to worry about.”

No matter my projected confidence, a traitorous voice whispers that I’ve already fallen deeper into this new life than Iever intended. Desperate to change the subject, I turn my attention to Hunter, noting the uncharacteristically blue circles under her eyes.

“Hey, you okay, Hunt? You seem a bit off today.”

Hunter picks at her eggs, avoiding eye contact. “I’m fine, just tired. I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately.”

Nina snorts. “Please. We all know it’s because Dylan brought his new girlfriend last night. Probably has her over at your place often, too.”

Hunter’s head snaps up, eyes wide with shock. “How did you?—”

“Oh, come on, babe. It’s obvious you’re into my brother,” Nina says gently. “But he’s clearly too blind to see what’s right in front of him.”

I nod in commiseration, secretly relieved that at least I don’t have to witness Adrian with someone else—our monogamy clause a sudden, overwhelming relief. The thought of him bringing home another woman, of having to plaster on a smile while theycanoodlejust a drywall away… I shudder inwardly. Poor Hunter. I can only imagine how gut-wrenching that must be.

“Honestly, I give it two months tops,” Nina declares, stabbing a sausage with unnecessary force. “Little Miss Perfect is not right for him. Even Tristan said so.”

Hunter smiles weakly, but I can tell she’s cheered by Nina’s prediction. I’m about to add something encouraging when a shadow appears over the table. I recognize his scent before I even lift my gaze to look at Adrian. He asks us if we mind if he takes a seat, and of course, we reply not at all. He sits next to me, so close and yet so distant, making my brain short-circuit for the rest of breakfast, so much that I have to struggle to keep up with the conversation. The entire time, I’m hyperaware ofhis presence beside me—every movement, every breath throwing me off. It’s a losing battle to stay focused, and by the time we say goodbye and head back to New York, I feel mentally drained.

As Adrian navigates the sleek Ferrari down the Long Island Expressway, only the purr of the engine fills the taut silence. After saying goodbye to his mom—Sam is driving Claire back to her home—we left early to beat the weekend traffic. Now, with nothing but open road ahead and a thousand unspoken words hanging in the air, I find myself second-guessing everything.

I steal a glance at his chiseled profile, the way his strong hands grip the steering wheel with quiet confidence. The same hands that held me so tenderly last night. He stares straight ahead, lost in thought.

I force my gaze back to the blur of passing scenery, mulling over the unexpected intimacy of the weekend. It should feel awkward. I barely know this man—we only met a month ago. And yet, being with him also feels oddly familiar. Comfortable. Right.

Adrian adjusts his grip on the wheel, but keeps quiet. My gut is full of tangled wires short-circuiting as I silently will him to speak, to say something, anything to break this deadlock. But he remains silent, eyes fixed ahead. The car vents hum, cool air washing over my bare legs. I shift uneasily, too unnerved to sit still.

Being with Adrian is a well of contradictions—thrilling and steadying, foreign and familiar, maddening and mesmerizing. When we’re close, I’m constantly on edge, every nerve endingelectrified and attuned to him. Yet there’s also this inexplicable comfort, like coming home to a place where I never knew I belonged. It doesn’t make logical sense. Then again, nothing about this bizarre situation does.

I chance another peek at him and find his eyes on me. Heat rises in my cheeks as he arches an eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk on his carved-from-a-dream face—and I’m talking the kind of sexy fantasy that would require a cold shower and a confessional. Busted. I glance away, pulse racing. That’s where I keep my gaze for the rest of the journey—firmly ahead.

It’s a relief and a disappointment when we pull into the underground garage of Adrian’s building. I exhale slowly, bracing myself for his inevitable retreat, the wall of avoidance that always seems to slam down between us when there isn’t a public engagement forcing us together.

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