Emily’s breath catches, her chest rising and falling. Until finally?—
“I love you too,” she whispers. “Always.”
She meets my gaze, and I see it. The love. My world is still a fucked-up mess, but Emily loves me. I can breathe again.
Until—
“But River, there’s something I have to tell you.”
EPISODE 212
STORM WARNING
Heather
Alone at last.
Darby is with Misty inside, and June is God knows where.
Just me and the hot-as-hell barkeep…until Sienna shows up.
I suppose if I were to have a real friend here on the island, Sienna might be a good choice.
Ariel is sweet, but a little too sweet for me. Plus, she and Alex are getting married tomorrow, so she’ll be taking off anyway.
Emily always looks like she has a three-foot stick up her ass. Or “arse,” as she would say.
June… Well, she’s fun to fool around with, but I don’t trust her. She’s cool and calculating, and truth be told, I don’t know what she’s after.
Then Misty…
Who the hell knows what’s going on with her? June may be cool and calculating, but Misty is on a whole other level.
But Sienna…
She’s approachable.
Since when do I find corporate attorneys approachable? I don’t normally hang out with professionals like her in my line of work. But I do hair for a lot of them, and I hear all their stories. The work sounds like a freaking dirge, but they’re usually very nice people.
And Sienna? She’s more than nice. She’s grounded. Polished without being fake. The kind of woman who could probably tear someone apart in court and still smile while doing it. But here, on this island, she’s been real with me. No judgment. No pretense.
That’s rare.
She steps onto the deck like she owns the air around her—messy bun, sundress, and that confident strut of someone who knows exactly who she is. She sees me at the bar and raises a hand in greeting.
“You hiding too?” she asks, sliding onto the stool beside me.
I grin. “More like retreating. This place is starting to feel like a powder keg.”
Sienna sighs. “You’re not wrong. Between Jake’s reappearance and Misty’s little collapse, I half expect someone to throw a drink or light a match.”
“Or both.”
We share a look, and it turns into laughter. Not because it’s funny, but because we’re both too on edge to do anything else.
The bartender approaches. “Another, Ms. Hill?”
I’ve been drinking a Mai Tai, but it’s time for something stronger. “Tequila,” I say. “And one for my friend here too.”
