Heather
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I wake up disoriented, the kind that comes from sleeping in a bed too big, in a house too grand, in a life I'm still trying to fit into.

I'm not complaining, my family is rich, but not this kind of rich. And that's probably why they're marrying me off to this wealthy family for the fucking money like I mean nothing.

You'd think all that encouraging talk can make me okay with this but no, nothing works, I'm just a piece in my parents' puzzle, just playing my part to fit into the bigger picture.

The silk sheets are cool against my bare skin, and for a moment, I just lie there, staring at the high ceiling, willing my brain to catch up with my cruel reality.

This is my fiancé's childhood home. My soon-to-be in-laws.

A sigh escapes me as I push the covers off and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, the plush carpet swallowing my feet. I take a moment to suck in the luxury before standing, stretching and shuffling into the en-suite bathroom.

The shower is spacious, all glass and marble, and I still don't know which of the twelve products in here is just regular body wash. I walk back to the bedroom and scurry through my suitcase for my body wash until I find it.

By the time I step out, towel wrapped around me, my phone is already lighting up with emails from work. I skim through them while sitting at the vanity, absentmindedly dabbing on moisturizer.

I send a quick response to Elvis on the project we recently took up and a mental note to send him the other building plans. Even though I managed to get off for eight weeks, I'm still required to push in my free hours into this for it to work.

I pick a cute light blue, flowy sundress that never fails to make me seem a little softer than I am. I pair it with slippers because this house is too big for anything that clicks against the floor.

And then, finally, it's coffee time.

I wander through the hallways, trying to map this mansion in my head. Last night when the staff where showing us around, I was too tired and too worried about Robin.

Speaking of which, I shockingly did not think about her this morning. Does that mean I've finally forgiven myself? Or I just don't care anymore about what she thinks or feels. Either way, this is happening and I can't stop it.

Trying to find the kitchen is a process. A very slow, frustrating process. I'm rounding a corner when-

Smack.

A body collides with mine, hard enough to make me stumble back a step.

"Oh, can you watch where the fuck you're going sweetie?"

I blink up at the face in front of me, and there she is-Robin.

Angry Robin.

Gorgeous Robin.

The kind of gorgeous that should be illegal this early in the morning. Her hair is messier which is expected for the morning but why does it make her look a thousand times more sexy?

Her tank top is slightly askew and I don't want my eyes to linger there so I dare look up into those sharp irritated eyes.

"Sorry," I mumble, looking down.

She scoffs, barely sparing me another glance before disappearing into the opposite direction. A minute later, I hear a door slamming.

Okay then.

I let out a slow breath, shake off whatever that was, and continue my journey downstairs.

I ask for directions from one of the staff members-a polite older man who doesn't even flinch at my obvious cluelessness-and soon enough, I find the kitchen.

Robin's mom is already there, humming as she moves around, placing freshly baked cookies on a tray. The smell of sugar and butter is warm, familiar.

She's wearing a white tshirt and mom jeans, her hair is tied up into a tight ponytail over her head and I regret leaving mine to dance around my back.

"Heather, darling, good morning!" she greets cheerfully, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

Why is she so happy,? It's too early for this much energy but I'm still grateful we seem to be on excellent terms.

"Morning," I say, stepping inside.

"Coffee?" she offers, already reaching for a brown mug.

I nod, grateful. "Please."

As she pours, she glances at me. "So, the big wedding plans. I hope you are not too tired to talk. How's everything going?"

I force a smile.

I am too tired to talk.

"Oh, you know. A million little details. It's exciting, though."

She beams. "That's wonderful. Have you and Javis decided on the cake flavors yet?"

We just got here! I want to scream but I grin like my life depends on it.

"We're still going back and forth on that."

"I always say, go for something classic. You don't want to look back in ten years and regret an experimental cake decision."

If we are going to last ten years.

I laugh lightly. "That's solid advice."

We keep chatting as I sip my coffee, the little M carved at the side of the cup keeping my hands busy.

Soon enough, thank the gods, the kitchen starts to fill up. Javis walks in, immediately pressing a kiss to my temple in greeting.

His young sister follows, offering a little wave at me before she starts doing her own things. Then Mom and Dad walk in, bringing a handful of praises for Leticia's beautiful home.

The morning turns into a symphony of chatter, coffee cups clinking, the occasional burst of laughter. It's all very warm, very family-like.

And yet, I feel the itch to be somewhere else.

With someone else.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I slip away, moving back through the halls until I'm standing outside Robin's door breaking a sweat.

I hesitate, biting my lip. Then, I knock.

There's a pause before her voice comes through, sharp and annoyed.

Why is she so annoyed, all the time? Is that all on me or she's just an ass?

"Go away!"

I knock again.

Another beat of silence, then footsteps. The door swings open, and Robin stands there, looking obviously unimpressed.

"What do you want?"

Her voice is low, her eyes still carrying the irritation from the past few days.

I swallow, my gaze running from her face to the towel around her chest. And suddenly I'm aware of how close her chest is.

"Just... wanted to check on you."

Robin arches a brow. "Check on me?"

"Yep. Nothing else."

She exhales sharply, then leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Noble. But I'm good."

I shake my head, shifting my weight from foot to foot.

She huffs. "You're engaged to my brother."

"I know."

"And yet, you're at my door."

"I know that too."

She looks at me for a long moment. Then, softly says, "You should go, Heather."

I should.

I really, really should.

But my legs won't cooperate and my eyes, god my eyes won't stop looking at her chest.