Page 124 of Merry Me
But then…I looked past his shoulder.
The room had changed. The golden hum from earlier, the soft laughter, the easy clink of glasses, the sparkle Paige had worked so damn hard for…it was gone. Swallowed whole. Replaced by this awful, stretched-out silence that tasted like dread and watched like a car crash. The kind that made people speak softer, like a higher volume might make it worse.
Like everyone in the room had just remembered something ugly.
And the cause of it—of course—was him.
My fists curled before I even realized it, the rage rising fast and hot.
And then I saw her.
Near the fireplace, a girl in a soft green dress stood talking to Paige. She looked polished, quiet, pretty in that catalog-perfect way—glossy brown hair tucked neatly behind her ears, gold necklace resting at her collarbone, her posture just a little too graceful to be accidental. Her smile was small, controlled, like it had been trained.
I leaned toward Easton, barely moving my lips. “Do you know who that is?”
He didn’t look away. “That’s Brittany,” he said quietly. “Your half sister.”
The name hit like a crack across glass.
Brittany.
I blinked. Stared harder, like I hadn’t really seen her until just now.
Because that was her. The daughter he’d stayed for.
The one he chose.
She wasn’t doing anything wrong. Of course she wasn’t. She held her cranberry spritzer like someone who’d never spilled anything in her life. She laughed, soft and practiced, atsomething Paige said. Not cruel. Not warm. Just…comfortable. At ease.
And Paige?—
Fuck.
She looked like she was barely breathing. She stood stiffly, her shoulders hunched the way they used to when she heard Mom crying after he’d left, and she thought if she made herself small enough, she might disappear. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, her body tilted just slightly away from the girl. Her eyes flicked around the room like she was searching for an exit…or maybe for me.
I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Couldn’t catch a single word. But I didn’t need to.
Just the sight of it—ofBrittany, smiling like she belonged in this moment Paige had been dreaming about—made something cold and hollow rip through my chest.
Paige didn’t look like a bride-to-be anymore. She looked like a kid again. Cornered.
And I hated that I couldn’t fix it. I hated that we’d been twisted into this shape, that our emotional wreckage ran so deep Paige thought inviting him might fill something in.
I glanced toward my mom, hoping, stupidly, for some sign that this wasn’t unraveling as fast as it felt like it was.
Her lips were pursed into a tight line, eyes trained on Paige and Brittany like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to cry or throw something. Steve’s hand was wrapped around hers, firm and grounding, his thumb brushing slow circles against her knuckles like he was the only thing keeping her upright.
I knew that look. I’d worn it myself.
The look of a woman holding it together—for everyone but herself.
My grip on Easton’s hand tightened, and I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until I felt it lodge hard in my throat.
“I can’t,” I whispered.
He turned toward me instantly, brow furrowing. “Say the word,” he murmured.
And I did.
