Page 134 of Steel Beauty

I make a half-hearted attempt to focus on the stage, to let the story pull me in, but my attention keeps drifting back to her. She’s all I see, all I feel, a gravity I can’t resist.

And then it hits me so sharply it nearly steals my breath.

I love her so much it aches.

The realization is a storm, equal parts exhilarating and terrifying. She’s become entwined with every part of me, as vital as the air I breathe, and the enormity of it is both overwhelming and undeniable.

As the final notes fade and the applause swells, the curtains close on a performance that’s been nothing short of stunning. My eyes drift back to Magnolia and her expression—soft, awestruck—clutches at something deep inside me.

I’ll miss this.

I’ll miss her.

We stay in our seats as the crowd begins to thin, reluctant to shatter the fragile spell the evening has cast. When we finally get up and make our way through the grand foyer, the buzz of people talking around us feels distant, inconsequential. It’s just the two of us, moving through a world that, for now, belongs only to us.

The crisp night air greets us as we step outside, Sydney sparkling like a postcard come to life. The lights reflect off the water, a kaleidoscope of color and motion, but my attention doesn’t focus on the view. Without hesitation, I reach for her hand, and our fingers lace together naturally as if they were always meant to.

The sounds of the city fade into a distant hum as we walk side by side. The cool breeze brushes against us, but the warmth of her presence is all I notice. Every step feels delicate, the moment too precious to disturb, and all I can think about is how to make it last.

I steal a glance at her, catching a hint of something in her expression—a hesitation, a shadow of a thought she doesn’t mention. But when our eyes meet, she offers me a soft smile, a quiet shield that hides whatever is churning beneath the surface. “It’s a beautiful night.”

I give her hand a gentle squeeze, the warmth of her fingers steadying me even as I wish I could unravel the secrets she keeps locked away. “Sydney’s pulling out all the stops for you.”

Her gaze drifts back to the water, the shimmering lights mirrored on its surface.

“It’s still early. Want to hit the Rabbit Hole? For old times’ sake?”

Her lips twitch, a small smirk breaking through her pensive mood. “That sounds fun… but I wouldn’t mind calling it a night.” As the words leave her mouth, she trails her fingers along my arm, her touch light but deliberate, sending a clear signal.

My pulse quickens and every nerve in my body sharpens, attuned to her—her touch, her tone, the unspoken promise in her eyes. It’s not just desire; it’s the connection between us, magnetic and undeniable.

I nod, keeping her hand firmly in mine as we turn back. It’s a silence that speaks volumes, filled with the things neither of us seems ready to put into words.

I give her hand a squeeze. “Stay at my place tonight?”

She looks up, her eyes warming with a playful gleam that momentarily eases the tension between us. “I’d like to see you try and stop me.”

Back at the house, we slip into the rhythm that’s become second nature. She kicks off her shoes with a soft sigh, and I pour us each a glass of wine. We settle on the couch, the quiet of the room wrapping around us.

Magnolia’s fingers trail absently along the stem of her glass, her gaze distant, lost in thoughts she hasn’t shared. I wait, giving her the space she seems to need.

“Hey.” I reach out and cover her hand with mine. “What’s on your mind?”

Her eyes lift to meet mine, a storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface. “There’s something I need to tell you. I didn’t want to ruin our night, but you need to know.”

My chest tightens. “It’s okay. You can tell me anything. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together.”

She takes a deep breath, the words seeming to cost her as they leave her lips. “Celeste came to Soul Sync again today. It was during lunch, and I stayed back, so I was alone in the office.”

The protectiveness surges instantly, my hand tightening around hers. “What did she do?”

“She accused me of crossing lines with a client. She even threw around phrases likesleeping with a clientandbeing unprofessional. It was as if she knew everything.”

My jaw clenches, the anger simmering beneath the surface. “She just walked in during work hours and started making accusations?”

Magnolia nods, her gaze lifting to meet mine, worry in her eyes. “She knew things.”

A surge of protectiveness rises within me, unshakable. “What kind of things?”

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