Page 143 of Say Yes to the Nemesis
“You really think we can figure it out?”
“I think that what we have here, right now, is worth fighting for.”
“Even if it means dealing with Jay?”
“Even then.”
“He’s going to lose his mind.”
“Probably. But he’ll get over it.”
She lifts her head to look at me. “You sound very confident for someone who’s about to tell his best friend he’s sleeping with his little sister.”
“I’m not just sleeping with you.”
“No?”
“This is more than that.”
The words hang between us, heavy with meaning. I can see her processing them, trying to decide whether she believes me.
“What is it then?” she asks quietly.
“I don’t know yet. But I want to find out.”
She smiles, soft and real. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Let’s find out.”
I pull her up for a kiss, tasting the promise on her lips. Outside, the night is quiet except for the distant sound of waves. The firepit on the terrace is still glowing, casting warm light through the open windows.
Her fingers rest over my heart. For the first time in years, I don’t feel haunted by all the things I’ve lost. I don’t feel empty or broken or like I’m just going through the motions.
I feel home.
Wren’s breathing evens out against my chest. I know she’s falling asleep. I should probably sleep, too. In two days, we have to go back to reality. Back to the cameras and the other contestants and all the complications we’ve been avoiding.
But for now, there’s just this. The weight of her in my arms, the scent of her hair, the way she fits against me like she was made for this spot.
I won’t think about tomorrow. All that matters right now is getting more of this girl, inhaling her, injecting her into my veins. I can’t think further than that.
forty
RYAN
I wakeup with Wren curled against my side, her hair spread across my chest. For a moment, I let myself pretend this is normal. That I wake up next to her every morning. That we’re not stealing time we don’t really have.
The sunlight streaming through the villa’s floor-to-ceiling windows makes everything look golden and perfect. Like we’re in a movie or a magazine spread instead of reality TV contestants sneaking around behind everyone’s backs.
“Morning,” she mumbles against my chest, her voice thick with sleep.
“Morning yourself.”
She lifts her head to look at me, and her hair is sticking up in about twelve different directions. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“What’s the plan for today?” she asks.
