Heather
×××

I should have gone to bed an hour ago.

Instead, I'm standing at the edge of the deck, gripping the wooden railing, staring out at the beach like some tragic lead in a bad romance movie.

The firepit is still glowing, the embers crackling softly in the night air. A few people linger around it, but my eyes are locked on only two of them.

Robin and Ali.

They're walking along the shore, side by side, the moon casting long shadows behind them. I can't hear what they're saying, but Robin is laughing, her head tilting back like whatever Ali just said was the funniest damn thing in the world.

I tell myself I don't care.

Robin can flirt with whoever she wants. She should flirt with whoever she wants. It's good for her. Healthy, even. She's finally moving on. That's what I wanted, right?

Then why do I feel like my stomach is in knots?

The ocean breeze cuts through my thin sweater, but I barely notice the chill. My attention is fixed on the way Ali's hand brushes against Robin's arm, casual but deliberate.

Robin doesn't pull away. If anything, she seems to lean into the touch, and something inside me breaks just a little more.

"There you are." Javis's voice startles me. He approaches from behind, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing a kiss to the side of my neck. "Been looking all over for you."

I force a smile, quickly shifting my gaze from the beach to the horizon. "Just needed some fresh air. It was getting stuffy out there."

"You okay?" he asks, his chin resting on my shoulder. "You disappeared right after dinner."

"Just wedding jitters," I lie, leaning back against his chest to sell the deception. "Hard to believe we're only two weeks away."

He tightens his hold, a gesture meant to be reassuring. "Best decision I've ever made."

I nod, not trusting my voice. My engagement ring feels suddenly heavy on my finger, a weight I can't escape. I should be happy.

This weekend retreat was supposed to be a celebration with family before the big day. Instead, I'm hiding on the deck, spying on my ex one night stand like some lovesick teenager.

"Come inside?" Javis asks, turning me around to face him. "Melanie's about to start with the embarrassing stories and I need you there to back me up."

I glance back over my shoulder, unable to help myself. Robin and Ali have stopped walking and are standing at the water's edge, their silhouettes close together.

"In a minute," I promise, cupping Javis's face with my hand. "Save me a glass?"

He searches my eyes for a moment, and I wonder if he can see through me, if he knows where my thoughts really are.

But then he smiles, leaning in to kiss me softly on the lips. I return the kiss automatically, muscle memory taking over where genuine desire fails.

"Don't be too long," he says against my mouth before pulling away. "It's our party, after all."

I watch him go, guilt gnawing at my insides. He deserves better than this—better than a fiancée who can't stop thinking about someone else, who stands outside in the cold just to catch glimpses of a woman she has no right to want anymore.

Once Javis disappears inside, I turn back to the beach, and my heart stops.

Ali has Robin's face in her hands, and they're kissing. Really kissing.

Not some friendly peck or careful first touch, but the kind of kiss that speaks of hunger and intention. Robin's arms are wrapped around Ali's neck, pulling her closer, their bodies pressed together in the moonlight.

The world tilts under my feet, and I grip the railing to steady myself. A sound threatens to escape my throat—something between a gasp and a scream—but I swallow it down, tasting bile.

This is what moving on looks like. This is what I wanted for her. This is what I told myself would be for the best when I ended things, choosing Javis and my parents' approval over what Robin and I had built in secret.

So why does it feel like someone is ripping my heart out through my chest?

I want to scream. I want to run down those stairs and tear them apart. I want to grab Robin by the shoulders and remind her of us—of lazy Sunday mornings and stolen kisses in empty hallways and all the promises we whispered when we thought we had forever.

But I don't. I can't. I made my choice, and now Robin is making hers.

I force myself to watch as they finally break apart, foreheads touching, both slightly breathless.

Ali says something that makes Robin smile—that soft, genuine smile that used to be reserved for me. And then they're walking again, hand in hand now, heading back toward the beach house.

I should go inside. I should rejoin my fiancé and pretend everything is fine. I should paste on a smile and play the role of happy bride-to-be. But my legs won't move. I'm frozen in place, paralyzed by the realization that I've lost her completely.

The pain is physical, a crushing weight in my chest that makes it hard to breathe. Tears burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I don't deserve the release of crying. Not when I'm the one who caused this.

Robin is gone. And I have no one to blame but myself.

I go inside after that, willing myself not to look back but as I settle next to Javis, I can’t shake the image of Robin’s lips on Ali's.

It shouldn’t bother me.

It doesn’t bother me.

God, I hate this.

It’s not jealousy. It’s just—weird, seeing her with someone else. After after everything we were, after everything we could’ve been—it’s just… strange.

That’s all.

I’m not jealous.

I refuse to be.

×××

The next morning, I wake up early, get dressed, and go downstairs before anyone else is awake. Well—almost anyone.

Robin is already in the kitchen.

She’s wearing a loose t-shirt that slips off one shoulder, her hair still messy from sleep. There’s a mug of coffee in her hands, steam curling toward her face. She looks soft, relaxed.

For a second, it’s like nothing has changed.

Then she turns, spots me, and grins. "Morning."

I nod, crossing the kitchen to grab my own mug. "Morning."

It’s not awkward. Not exactly. But it’s not not awkward either. There’s a slight hesitation in the air.

I try not to think about the fact that she’s probably wearing that sleepy, satisfied look because of Ali.

I try not to care.

"So," I say, keeping my voice light, "fun night?"

Robin smirks, taking a slow sip of her coffee. "Very."

I hate that I feel something at that.

I school my features into something neutral. "Glad to hear it."

She tilts her head, studying me. "Are you?"

The question is casual, but there’s something behind it. She's testing me.

I take a sip of my coffee, throwing her a glance over my cup. "Of course."

Robin hums, like she doesn’t believe me. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she leans back against the counter, tapping her fingers against her mug. "Ali’s great, you know."

I don’t want to talk about this. I never want to talk about Ali.

I shrug. "If you say so."

"She’s funny. Smart. Hot." Robin raises an eyebrow, clearly waiting for a reaction.

I give her nothing because I might just murder the shit out of her.

"Cool."

Her lips twitch. "You don’t care at all, huh?"

"Nope." I sip my coffee, gaze steady. "Why would I?"

Robin watches me for a long moment, like she’s searching for something. Then she just smiles—slow, knowing. "No reason."

Bullshit. But jealousy isn't a good look on me.

By the time brunch rolls around, the house is buzzing with noise. The long outdoor table is set up on the deck, covered in plates of fruit, eggs, pancakes, and enough mimosas to keep the vibe light and tipsy.

Robin strolls in a few minutes late, sunglasses perched on her nose, looking every bit like someone who had a very good night. And right behind her? Fucking Ali.

Ali, who pulls out a chair beside Robin, close enough that their knees brush. Ali, who murmurs something low in Robin’s ear, making her smirk.

I tell myself not to react.

I fail.

Melanie notices.

"You’re glaring," she mutters.

I snap my attention back to my plate. "I’m not."

"Right. And I’m the Queen of England."

I stab my fork into my eggs with a little too much force. "Shut up."

She just smirks, sipping her mimosa.

I try to focus on my food. I really do. But it’s hard when I can feel Robin’s gaze flickering toward me every so often, like she’s waiting for me to crack.

Like she wants me to.

Maybe I kind of want to.

I look up, meeting Robin’s eyes across the table. She raises an eyebrow, lips twitching at the corners.

She's playing that stupid game again and I don’t know the rules.

But I know one thing for certain.

I’m losing.