“Is something wrong?” Aidan asks. “If you hate it, I can have it redone tomorrow.”
“No, I—” I shake my head. “I get this whole room to myself?”
“You do,” he says, grinning. “And you even have—” he opens a set of doors, “your own private balcony that overlooks the garden. Well, and the beach, of course.”
Tears sting, but I blink them back.
Even if this doesn’t last—and deep down, I know it won’t—I’ll remember this. A room that’s mine. A door I can lock.
“The only thing you do have to share is the bathroom suite,” he adds, gesturing to a door. “HOA won’t let me rework the plumbing, but your private bath at the main house will be ready after renovations.”
“You have another house?”
“This is just the summer place,” my mom says proudly as she steps in. “They’re remodeling his real one until autumn.”
Aidan pulls out his phone and shows her something. I go invisible. Again.
“Dinner will be around six,” Aidan says over his shoulder. “You’re welcome to join us—and get a better impression of Cole. If not, no pressure.”
The moment they’re gone, I close the door and lock it.
Shoes off. Straight to the bed. Face-down into the comforter.
I repeat it again and again:
This isn’t real.
This won’t last.
Don’t get attached.
Eventually, I move to the balcony. I pull open the doors and step out, letting the breeze roll over me.
The garden stretches into pale dunes, and beyond that, the ocean sparkles like it was ordered off a dream board.
And then I see him.
Cole.
He’s on the next balcony over, legs stretched out, jaw tilted toward the sky.
“Staring’s rude, Emily,” he says, not looking over. “Do I need to teach you a lesson about that, too?”
“I’m not staring,” I say. “I’m absorbing the sights.”
That gets a small laugh. Then he turns to face me.
“My mom said you’re a little older than me,” I say, folding my arms. “I can’t blame you for not wanting to move out of your dad’s beach mansion.”
“You’re making one hell of an assumption there.” His smirk returns—slow, crooked, maddening. “I’m only here temporarily.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-two. You?”
“Nineteen.”
His eyes roam over me, slow and deliberate. “So… still hanging on to that thing I almost ruined?”
