Page 60 of Shattered Promise

Eloise leans forward, slow and dangerous. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m just saying,kettle,” Margot replies, tone sugary and insincere, “that you’re being a little hypocritical, is all.” She exhales, slouching back in her chair like she’s already exhausted by this conversation.

Eloise points a finger at her sister. “It’s not the same and you know it. Seven Pines is into a ton of shady shit, Margot. You don’t want to get tripped up in that.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Eloise grins suddenly, the change in expression so abrupt it’s almost disorienting. She leans back like the whole thing never happened. “Okay. Fine. Letting it go now.”

Margot’s eyes narrow. “No, no, don’t do that. Whatever you’re thinking, knock it off.”

“What?” Eloise says, all faux innocence. “I’m not thinking anything. I’mdefinitelynot thinking about how Beau will figure out who you’re slinking off to in the middle of the night with a single phone call.”

Cora cough-laughs into her hand. Francesca pretends to clear her throat but her eyes are sparkling with barely contained laughter.

Margot groans, flicking the edge of a cracker at her sister. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m the best actually,” Eloise deadpans.

“Whatever,” Margot grumbles. She looks at me with a crooked, conspiratorial little wince. “Abby’s awfully quiet.”

I open my mouth, but I don’t get the chance.

“She’s always quiet when it comes to this stuff,” Cora adds, her voice light, like she’s trying to make me sound interesting instead of lonely. “Abby doesn’t date. She’s already married to her job.”

The room chuckles, and so do I. But it’s the kind of laugh you practice. One that sounds real enough, if you don’t look too closely.

“Guilty,” I murmur, taking another sip of my drink. I let the moment pass, the spotlight shift away from me.

Cora and Francesca dive into a debate about whether the love interest in the book was redeemable or just hot, and Margot mutters something under her breath that makes Eloise snort.

I sit back and watch them—all of them. These women who orbit each other with such effortless intimacy. Who know the inside jokes, the family drama, the history wrapped around every offhand comment.

And I realize I don’t know if I’ve ever had that.

Not really.

Not in a way that stuck.

I feel it all in a sudden rush—the porch at Mason’s place, the sound of Theo’s giggle against my leg, the way Mason looks at me like he wants to memorize every part of me but is afraid to ask permission.

I came here to take a breath. Just a couple weeks, a reset, a pause before life picked back up again.

But somewhere between the silence and the softness, the undoing started.

What if I stayed?

The thought isn’t loud. It doesn’t crash in.

It just . . . settles.

Like it’s been waiting. Quietly, patiently.

For me to finally hear it.

23

MASON

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