Page 35 of Accidental Mile High Daddy
I don’t let people in. I don’t do relationships.
His words from last night pinged around in my head as if I were a pinball machine, and the illusion shattered in an instant.
I pushed up from the king-size mattress that suddenly felt like far more space than I needed, the weight of the day smacking me square in the chest.
It was Ryan’s wedding day.
Moving to the edge of the bed, I sat with my elbows on my knees, staring blankly at the wall like it might offer meanyreason to not crawl back under the covers and scream into the mattress. My dress was already hanging on the bathroom door, emerald, silky, and enough to turn heads. My makeup bag satopen on the desk, curler, and hairdryer beside it. Everything was laid out and ready to go.
As if preparation could make all of this any less ridiculous.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to breathe through the weight in my chest. It wasn’t heartbreak, not anymore, but it was somethingadjacent. A pathetic echo of the pain of a relationship I was well and truly over breaking down, the memories almost black and white instead of screaming color. But it feltweirdin a way I wasn’t sure I’d be able to explain if Matt asked me how I was doing.
Today, the friend I thought I’d known like the back of my hand was going to put the final nail in the coffin of our friendship.
Today, the man I once thought I was going to marry, was going to marry someone else.
And I was going to smile like it didn’t gut me as I stood on the arm of the person he hated the most.
I was here for revenge and a paycheck, and as my mind started to drift toward Matt, I had to tell myself that again. And then again as I brushed my teeth, twice more as I pulled on my pajamas and wandered out into the villa in search of desperately needed coffee.
The scent of it hit me before I’d reached the kitchen, along with the sound of Matt’s low voice and Zach’s louder, higher one, both of them mid-debate over the best fruit to blend into a smoothie.
Zach looked up from where he was perched on the counter, dinosaur pajamas on, with Matt crowding him protectively to make sure he didn’t fall off. “Sienna! You like mangos?”
“I do,” I grinned. “Not as much as strawberries, though.”
Matt’s sneaky grin as he looked down at his pouting son told meeverythingabout what side I’d accidentally taken.
He looked sorelaxedlike this — a soft gray T-shirt that could have been four hundred dollars or from the clearance rack at Walmart, checkered pajama bottoms, barefoot. He was somehow exactly the same and so intensely far from the man I’d watched last night with a scotch in hand and candlelight flickering in his eyes, vulnerability cracking open in front of me like it surprised even him.
But he was still warm. Still loving with Zach. Still casual with me.
His head turned, just a little, just enough to catch my gaze over his shoulder, and gave a small, unreadable smile. “There’s coffee,” he said softly, tipping his head toward the full pot on the counter.
I nodded, thankful for the excuse to turn away, to do something with my hands.
The silence that followed between me and him—Zach was still babbling away—wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just heavy. We both remembered dinner last night, both remembered him leading me back to the car with his hand on the small of my back with no one to show me off to, both remembered the way he’d lingered at my door for a startling second before he’d swallowed and saidgoodnight.
And it felt like neither of us knew what to do with that now that the sun was up.
“Sienna?” Zach chirped, his feet dangling off the side of the counter, Matt still crowding himjust in case. I set down the pot of coffee and turned to him. “Can we swim again today?”
I forced a bigger smile than necessary. “We’ve got time. The…weddingdoesn’t start until five, and I won’t need to start getting ready until one, maybe two at the latest.”
Zach grinned wide, triumphant, like that settled it.
“But,” I added, holding up a finger, “you’ll have to ask your dad first. He’s the boss.”
He twisted instantly, his little hands grabbing fistfuls of Matt’s shirt as he leaned in and looked up at his father with the most absurdly adorable face I’d ever seen, his hazel eyes wide and wanting.God, he looks so much like Matt.“Pleeeeease?” he asked, dragging the word out like he knew it’d hit home. “I’ll wear sunscreen, and I swear, IswearI won’t even cannonball!”
“That’s exactly what you said yesterday,” Matt deadpanned, blinking down at him. “You cannonballedtwice.”
He pouted. “I didn’t splash anyone, though.”
“You splashed me!” Matt laughed.
I snorted as I lifted my mug to my lips, taking a blessed sip of coffee, I desperately needed, and Matt’s mouth cracked wide into a grin as he wiggled his fingers against Zach’s sides, tickling him. For a quick, fleeting second, Matt’s gaze flicked to mine, and whatever was between us from last night seemed topulsein that gaze before it was gone.
