Page 57 of Bride on the Dotted Line

“It’s like he’s …” Sienna takes a deep breath. “He’s thoughtful in ways that sneak up on me. This morning, he went to the market and bought lobster because I said I was craving it. And he’s always making me laugh, even though I’m anxious about everything right now.”

Marcella’s voice crackles through the phone.

“Yeah. It’s been wearing on me—I hate the idea of Dad getting hurt again. But when we’re texting, it feels like Nick listens. Actually listens, Mom. He’s not anything like people say he is. He isn’t even the snobby, entitled guyIthought he’d be. I was wrong, too.”

A heartbeat of silence follows. I shiver, the space between my ribs heating like I waded into a warm bath. This isn’t teasing or flirtation. She means it. But … she’s mistaken. I’ve never been the man who isa good listener, thoughtful, funny. To my past girlfriends, I’ve always beenhot, confident, rich.

Andhot, confident, richwas good enough for me.

Marcella says something, and when Sienna responds, that little rasp in her voice is back. It’s intensified with an emotion I can’t pinpoint.

“That’s what scares me,” she says. Across the hallway, a fragrant breeze lifts the curtains and sets them back down again. “I’ve never used that word before, not with any of my other boyfriends, but with Nick, I want to.”

My body goes rigid. Sienna’s mother speaks, sentence inflected up like a question. I stare down at the food I made and am surprised to find I don’t want it anymore. For the first time in years, there’s something other than hunger churning in my blood; my chest burns with a feeling that’s entirely new, paradoxical, incomprehensible.

I’m light as air.

I’m heavy as fucking lead.

“I think I do,” Sienna whispers finally. “I think I do, Mom.”

I don’t hear the rest of the conversation because my ears start ringing. My skin electrifies. The world seems to tilt—am I genuinely going to fall down right now?

No. Breathe.

I inhale a short breath, exhale a long one, and wait until my heart stops galloping.

That word.

There’s no telling what they’re actually talking about—I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. If I do, I’m going to do something reckless, something with serious legal consequences, like sweeping Sienna into my arms and never letting her go. Like telling her every feeling that’s been sitting at the back of my mind, waiting to be spoken.

Instead, I straighten my spine—just act normal, Nick, for God’s sake—and somehow manage to walk around the corner into the living room.

“Got to go, Mom. I’ll talk to you later,” Sienna says hurriedly into her phone, shifting on the couch. Her laptop is perched open on her knees, showing another blank e-mail. “Love you too.” She taps the red button on her phone screen and gives me a tiny smile. “Uh—hey.”

“Hey.”

I wordlessly set her lobster salad in front of her, not trusting myself to speak. She peers over the top of her laptop at the bowl. The corner of her mouth lifts—this gorgeous, terrifying, unbelievable woman—and my heart swirls in my chest like a tornado. Her hair is loose over her shoulders, a cascade of black, soft-as-silk beach waves.

“It looks amazing,” she says, closing her laptop and pushing it to the side. Her gaze lands on me, then deliberately floats away. It feels as casual as a house fire. “Are these flowers? Can I eat them?”

“They’re edible,” I tell her.

“Cool.” She uses her fork to dig into the food. All I can think isshe has feelings for me.Sienna’s eyes close as she chews, the pinch between her brows softening, that subtle rapture I’m getting to know so well.

“Oh my God, that is sogood,” she says.

She has feelings for me.

We eat in silence, watching palm trees sway outside the window. I nibble on a piece of avocado, my brain unraveling. I thought I knew what she wanted, after the gala. I thought she wanted to circle back. My mouth on her neck, her moans in my ear, my hand under her dress.

But that word. That word she wants to say but hasn’t.

It’s almost laughable, what two minutes of an overheard conversation can do. My thoughts—the thoughts that I’ve been avoiding, the thoughts that have snuck into my heart over the last month, thoughts of protecting Sienna, providing for Sienna, calling Sienna mine—are suddenlythereandloudand clamoring for attention.

And of course, I know what they mean.

I shouldn’t say it out loud, though, because it doesn’t matter what I want.

---