She smiles at the good lines, bites her lip at the tension, and giggles softly every few pages. My heart clenches each time.
The sun sinks lower toward the horizon, and one by one, the pool deck begins to empty. But Sienna and I stay right where we are, with me reading and her listening.
And somewhere between the pages and her soft laughter, I start to realize she’s the beginning of something I didn’t know I wanted.
Chapter Seven
Sienna
I flipthrough the cocktail menu halfheartedly as I sip the Mai Tai I ordered when we arrived at the oceanfront restaurant. It’s sweet and cold on my tongue, but it does nothing to ease the knot in my chest.
I’m annoyed, and the appetizers haven’t arrived yet.
Wedged between Mom and Aria, I feel like I have no room to breathe. Dad sits on Mom’s other side, so I’m trapped in the parental crossfire with no escape. Across from me, Milo flicks through the menu and talks quietly with Ethan about what to order.
He’s in a charcoal button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, the top button undone just enough to reveal the shadowed line of his throat. Firelight catches there whenever he swallows or speaks. And whenever he reaches for the breadbasket or lifts his whiskey, the muscles in his forearms shift deliciously.
I can’t stop noticing. Ihatethat I can’t stop noticing. My heart stumbles stupidly every single time, and I’m pretty sure he knows it. I mean, come on, no one’s forearms arethatdistracting by accident.
Rolling my shoulders, I take another sip and try to tune in to the conversations around the table. My eyes, however, keepdrifting back to Milo—to the way his mouth curves when he listens, the way his fingers tap absently against the table, and those mouthwatering muscles.
“Sienna, honey,” Mom leans in, her hand covering mine. “You look really beautiful tonight.”
I glance down at the emerald slip dress I threw on—thin straps showing just enough cleavage, a low back dipping dangerously, and a thigh-high slit flashing tanned skin with every shift. It’s the kind of dress that says, “I’m here to feel alive,” not “I’m ready for an intervention” that I know is coming.
“Thanks, Mom,” I manage a smile. “You look beautiful, too.”
She pats my hand again. “We just want you to be happy, honey, especially with your sister’s big day coming up so fast.”
For fuck’s sake, here it comes.
Dad clears his throat. “Honey… we’ve been talking.”
I set my glass down carefully and exhale through my nose. “We who?”
Mom and Dad exchange one of those loaded parental glances, then Mom presses on. “We love how free-spirited you are. Wereallydo. But you’re almost twenty-seven, Sienna. We’re not saying you need to get married yet?—”
Aria lets out a small, unapologetic laugh. “Keyword:yet. I mean, I’m doing it next week… so try not to steal the limelight I’ve spent years planning.”
Mom shoots her a warning look. “Aria.”
“What?” she shrugs innocently. “I’m just saying peer pressure is a powerful thing.”
“You think I’d ever give in to peer pressure?” I raise a brow.
“Well… no,” she answers, pausing to sip her wine. “But I know for a fact that if we’d chosen Vegas for our wedding destination, you’d already be halfway to some neon chapel, marrying a total stranger just to tell Mom and Dad to fuck off and stop pressuring you to settle down.”
Facts.
“Aria.” Dad scowls.
Mom lets out a deep breath. “We’re not saying that. But maybe it’s time to think about roots. Stability. Finding someone who can actually keep up with you.”
My jaw tightens, the familiar defensiveness twisting hot in my chest.
“I have roots,” I reply, my voice low. “They’re just… portable.”
Dad leans forward, elbows on the table. “We’re worried you’re moving too fast and that no one’s ever going to catch up. And with Aria getting married, we can’t help but think about your future too.”
