Page 17 of American Beauty

She sighs, eyes flickering over my face. “I hate this.”

“It’s the worst.”

I watch as she tucks her chin, curling deeper into the warmth of her bed, her breathing slowing like she’s drifting. But she fights it, blinking hard, refusing to let sleep steal these last few minutes from us.

“You’re exhausted. Go to sleep.”

“Not yet. I… I don’t want our call to be over yet.”

It hits me low and hard, this need to have her with me.

“Nothing’s over. This is temporary.”

Her eyelids flutter, a drowsy smile tugging at her lips. “Say it again.”

“This is only temporary. Soon, you’ll be here, and I’m never letting you leave again.”

Her sigh is so soft, I almost don’t hear it. “Mmm. I like that plan.”

I watch her a little longer, waiting for the moment her breath evens out, for the telltale shift of sleep pulling her under.

It’s only after that I whisper, “Goodnight, favorite.”

Her response is barely audible. “Goodnight, big guy.”

The screen goes dark, and the hollow, gnawing weight of missing her is still there, sitting heavy in my chest.

Soon isn’t soon enough.

Chapter 5

Alex Sebring

The sun hangshigh over the golf course, casting a golden sheen across the fairways. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of just-cut grass and the distant hum of cicadas. It’s a picture-perfect day—one that should be relaxing, easy.

But I’m not relaxed. Not even a little.

Magnolia has been gone for two weeks. Fourteen days of waking up alone, of reaching for her in the middle of the night only to find cool sheets. Of pretending like everything is fine when it sure as hell isn’t.

I grip the wheel of the golf cart, steering us toward the next hole. Alexander Sebring—my father and the man who taught me golf, rugby, yachting, and just about everything else worth knowing in life—sits beside me.

“Overthinking the next hole?” Amusement threads his voice. “Might need to eagle this one if you plan on catching up.”

I roll my shoulders, exhaling. “I’m still warming up, old man.”

He chuckles under his breath. “That’s what you said two holes ago.”

I don’t bother responding because he’s right. I’m off my game today, and we both understand the reason.

Before I can reach for my club, a voice—sweet, flirtatious—cuts through the quiet.

“Drink for you, Mr. Sebring?”

I glance up to find a cart girl standing beside us, a bright smile plastered across her face. She’s young, pretty, blond—the type I used to go for without a second thought. Another cart girl lingers beside her, two sets of eyes watching me like I’m the most interesting thing on the course.

She shifts her weight, batting her lashes. “Would you prefer I pick a beverage for you? Perhaps a cold beer?”

I offer a polite smile, already reaching into my pocket. “Don’t need anything right now, thanks.”

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