Page 13 of American Beauty

He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “There’s nothing to work on. What happened in Australia wasn’t a relationship. We were having a little fun, making the most of an unpleasant situation.”

This guy’s a discount fuckboy with delusions of grandeur. Bad combination. “Elijah––”

He lifts a brow. “What is it, Mags?”

There’s probably no way to say this that’ll actually get through his thick skull, but I have to try. “You need to talk to Sophie about that. Because I don’t believe she sees it the same way you do. I think her perspective is quite different.”

Before he can respond, movement in the doorway catches my eye.

Sophie.

She stands frozen for half a second, then turns sharply, disappearing down the hall before either of us can say a word.

Shit.

“Go talk to her.”

For a moment, he sits there, jaw tight, running a hand over his face. Finally, he pushes to his feet and leaves.

I watch him go, a knot forming in my stomach. This is going to be a mess. But it’s not mine to clean up.

Chapter 4

Alex Sebring

The phone sits heavyin my hand, taunting me with its silence. Tension coils in my chest, my leg bouncing like I’ve got energy to burn. It’s been less than a week since she left—still too long without seeing her, without touching her, without breathing her in.

Time zones and schedules have turned our communication into a game of patience, and I fucking hate it. Magnolia should be here, in my bed, curled up against me where she belongs. But all I have is this damn screen and the ache of missing her.

I stare at my phone like I can make it ring by sheer force of will.

My worry is unnecessary. She’s going to call—she always does when she says she will—but that doesn’t stop the restless energy thrumming under my skin. My leg bounces, fingers drumming against my thigh as I glance at the screen again. Still nothing.

As the edges of my patience fray, my screen lights up. Magnolia Steel––FaceTime. Incoming. Join.

My pulse kicks up as I swipe to answer. And then she’s there—bright-eyed, smiling, looking more beautiful than ever.

“Hey, favorite.”

“Hey, big guy.”

My favorite. My girl. My American beauty.

She’s still in her work clothes, perched on her couch, one leg tucked under her, hair spilling over one shoulder. The soft lighting casts a golden glow on her skin, making her look like she belongs in a painting you can’t stop staring at.

“Still missing me?”

She rolls her eyes but grins. “Not even a little. I’m over the whole thing.”

I smirk. “You’re a terrible liar.”

She pretends to think about it. “It’s possible I miss you a little.”

There’s something different about her tonight. Her energy is lighter, her smile lingering. I know her too well not to notice. “All right, what’s got you all chirpy?”

Her smile widens, and there’s something in her eyes—excitement, anticipation. It’s infectious, the kind of expression that makes happiness rush through me.

“I have the best news ever.” She fights a smile by biting her bottom lip. “Okay…maybethe best news ever.”

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