Connor is already there, leaning against the counter and studying the options before him. A classic continental breakfast that makes everything look so good.
He gives me a small nod and pushes an empty mug in my direction.
“Morning,” he says softly. The undercurrent is still there—unspoken and warm.
“Hi,” I reply, reaching for the French press and pouring some into the rustic ceramic cup in my hand. “Looks good.”
He doesn’t say anything else, but he meets my eyes over his mug as he drinks, eyebrows lifted slightly. I smile behind my own cup, a blush threatening to form on my cheeks for no reason at all.
Elle claps her hands, cutting through the easy chatter in the room. “Train leaves in thirty. Everyone fed?”
Banks peers at the half-empty plate in front of him. “I think I just ate six croissants. Is that too many?”
His girlfriend, Nicole, audibly gasps, turning her body towards him. “Oh my god, babe, what?”
Banks shrugs. “Vacation rules, babe.”
They are one of the couples staying with us during the week. Nicole, Hannah, and Amelia all grew up with Elle and are in the bridal party. Their partners—Banks, Sterling, and Cash, respectively—are acquainted with Jack somehow and all, coincidentally, work in finance too.
Connor chuckles quietly next to me, and it vibrates in my chest. I don’t know when I started noticing that about him. The way even his smallest reactions seem to ripple outward, making me want to lean a little closer. Maybe it was last night, in the intimacy of the dim lights and the words that sounded like a secret just for us two.
Jack stands, stretching. “Alright, crew. Let’s move before we get too comfortable and the sun starts hitting the deck just right.”
A few minutes later, we’re walking downhill towards the small town adjacent to the house, leaves crunching underfoot. The train station for this town sits at the center, and it’s the exact opposite of the way we arrived—but nestled into the most charming town I’ve ever seen.
The morning air is crisp but refreshing, and everything has a dewy look to it. It smells like pine needles and earth, and the breeze has a bite that finally wakes me. Elle hooks her arm through mine, squeezing it lightly.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she says quietly. “I know this can be… a lot.”
I laugh softly. “You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
She squeezes again. “Yeah.”
Our transportation arrives at the platform within a few minutes of us reaching it. A clean, tidy three-car train painted bright red with shiny windows. We settle into seats near the windows, and the view slides past slowly as we pull away from the station. The mountains rise sharply, the lake stretching wide and deep blue beside us, mist still clinging to its surface.
Connor sits directly across from me, his arm draped lazily over the back of his seat, eyes fixed out the window. Every so often, his gaze flickers toward me, just for a beat, then away. I’m surprised by how easy it feels. And not at all like I’m being watched—which is the exact feeling I’ve had for the past three years. Instead, it’s inquisitive, alive. As if he’s trying to figure me out a few seconds and glances at a time.
It’s disarming. Knowing he and Athena aren’t together shifts something—almost like the rules of the room quietly rearranged themselves when I wasn’t looking. There’s a lightness in him I don’t remember from the past two years, a looseness in the way he sits, like he’s finally breathing air that belongs to him.
It reminds me of the Connor I first met at the engagement party, a little bit more… uninhibited.
Jack kneels in his seat, glancing between the group. “So, what are we thinking? Swim at the waterfall?”
Sterling groans dramatically, followed by a loud “bro” from Cash, one of the other finance bros in the group. “Are you trying to kill us?”
“Adventure builds character,” he replies with a big smile on his face that is aimed at his soon-to-be bride.
“Yeah, when you’re in your twenties,” Elle points out. “We are way past that, babe.”
I catch Connor’s eye, smiling. “Says the woman who made us climb into an open-door helicopter ride over Manhattan and called it a ‘scenic ride.’”
Elle doesn’t even blink. “Itwasscenic.”
“You had your eyes closed the whole time,” someone says—maybe Cash, maybe Sterling—but the entire group erupts in laughter.
“Worth it,” Elle declares, flipping her perfectly styled blonde hair over her shoulder.
I hide a smile behind my hand, watching her work the group like a pro. I’ve seen her lead agency meetings with this effortless charm and a natural gift for orchestrating chaos with the flick of the wrist.
