Page 126 of American Beauty

Alex huffs a soft laugh. “No promises.”

His mother blows him a kiss. “I love you, Aleki.”

“Love you too, Tina.”

Alexander nods, firm but warm. “Love you, son.”

“Love you too, Dad.”

Malie’s gaze returns to mine one more time. “We love you too, Magnolia.”

For a moment, I freeze. The words catch me off guard—not because they’re untrue, but because I’m not used to hearing them. Not from anyone’s parents. Not even my own. The warmth spreads anyway. Quiet and steady. Like belonging.

“I love you both,” I say. And I mean it.

The call ends as the nurse pushes through the door, a smile in place. “It’s that time, Mr. Sebring.”

She unlocks the bed and adjusts the rails, then glances at me with a wink. “Next time you see this guy, he’ll be a little less busted up.”

Alex’s hand finds mine again, his palm sweaty. I lean in and press a kiss to his forehead, lips lingering just a second longer than they should.

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

His eyes meet mine. “I love you, favorite.”

My heart clenches. “I love you too, big guy.”

He nods, silent now, but something flickers in his eyes—something that says everything he isn’t ready to put into words.

And then they wheel him away—his fingers slipping from mine like a tether loosening.

The door shuts behind him, and in a snap, it’s quiet.

The waiting room smells of disinfectant and tension. I pick a chair by the window—not for the view, but away from others. Maybe I can get some work done.

Design software loads, blank templates blinking at me. But the only thing I can think about is the man who is lying unconscious on an operating table somewhere in this building.

I check the time. He’s only been gone fifty-two minutes. Seems like hours.

I tuck my phone facedown beside me and try to focus again, but the lines on the screen blur. My stomach knots with every passing second. I chew on my thumbnail, something I haven’t done in years.

Then my email notification dings.

Tyson McRae—bold, unread—sitting there like it belongs in my life.

I don’t open it right away. I just stare. Because I’ve been more than clear about my feelings. About my boundaries. About the fact that I want nothing more to do with him.

So what does he want now?

I open it. Not because I want to. But because I don’t trust him not to try something shady—legal threats, emotional manipulation, a guilt trip disguised as sincerity. I’ve figured out how he works. He’s shown me who he is.

Our contract is airtight, something I made damn sure of it before I ever signed my name beside his. I had to protect myself—my business, my future—in the event of a fallout. I may have been naïve about him and his motive, but I was never naïve when it came to protecting myself and my business.

Protecting myself––that’s one thing I’m very good at.

The email is long. Too long. Desperate in the way only guilt can be.

Subject: Please Read This

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