Chapter Twenty-Four

Sebastian

That was a shit show.

Alessia and I come to a stop in front of the elevators. Her tone is all business as she presses the call button. "I'll need to pack El's and my things, then go down to the kitchen and figure out the plan for the food. Shit, what's she going to do with all the food? No one wants those damn clams." She presses the heel of her hand into her forehead. "Thank God my dad already paid in full. Is that terrible of me to say when my brother's life is falling apart?"

Guilt roils in my gut. As if she needs to feel bad about anything, ever, when I caused this mess. "Alessia…"

The door to Hickory Hall swings open. Nora rushes into the lobby, hugging her chest. Her usual soft smile is nowhere in sight. Right now, her lips are turned down.

Ill-timed pride rolls through me in a wave. She held it together like a fucking champ as those people went in on her. She didn't deserve it.

And then my jaw clenches as I replay Veronica's harsh words.

Nora wouldn't have had to hold it together if it wasn't for me. I need to tell her I'm sorry for kissing her in my doorway where anyone could've seen— did see. And then I need to do something to make this better for her.

My gaze bounces back to Alessia, who I also need to talk to and make amends with. There are so many people to apologize to I don't even know where to start.

Alessia's smile is sympathetic as she steps into the elevator. She gestures behind me. "Talk to your girl. I'll be in my room."

My girl.

What a shitty time to discover that phrase lights me up inside.

Nora's eyes meet mine as she closes the distance between us. "Hi."

"Hey." I nod toward an external exit about ten feet off. "Can we talk? Outside, maybe?"

She casts a look at the door. "Yes. I need to get out of this building."

The feeling is mutual. The stuffy air in this place is choking me.

Birdsong and sunshine, oblivious to the stormy atmosphere inside, greet us as we step into the day. Nora gravitates toward the same spot where all the wine-drunk wedding guests gorged themselves on s'mores by a campfire just a few nights ago.

A lifetime ago, it feels like.

Nora lifts her gaze to the bright blue sky, fiddling with her hoop earring as golden daylight paints her face. Something between my ribs aches as my gaze traces her long lashes, high cheeks, and the slope of her jaw. Her face has become so familiar to me.

"Well, that was something," she finally says.

It takes serious restraint not to take her in my arms. But she may not want that from me right now, considering I'm the reason she just got yelled at in front of all those people. "I'm sorry, Nora."

She does a double take. "What?"

"I put you in a terrible position. I should never have let that happen." A blip of disgust encroaches on my tone. "I was careless."

Her gaze is assessing. A gust of wind lifts her hair off her neck as those green eyes rake me over. "We were both there. I was very much a part of the decision-making."

Decision-making that led to perhaps the best night, and morning, of my life.

Our eyes lock, and heat spreads through my chest. The worst has happened in terms of this week, and I'll be sorting through the guilt for a long time. But it does nothing to dim the fire she kindles in me every time she's close. It doesn't change the way I feel. "I'll talk to Alessia and Enzo and take full responsibility for us."

Her gaze flits between my eyes. "Us?"

The word expands in the air like a bubble about to burst.

"On our behalf," I clarify.

Something raw passes across her delicate features. "Gotcha. I thought you meant…" She shakes her head. "Never mind."

I've been so consumed by my interest in her I didn't let myself think about what it all means or what would happen next. And now that the week is over—sooner than any of us planned, thanks to what just went down—we're forced to confront this now.

She knows I'm moving. Worse: I know, and I pursued her anyway, because I like her too damn much.

I want to tell her I'm not ready for this to be over, but it'd be selfish to expect her to waste her time with me for the next few weeks when nothing could come of it. Even if more time together is exactly what I want. Every free day and night until I have to go, preferably.

Which is why having this conversation at all is a total mind fuck.

"We're heading home today," I finally force myself to say.

She rubs the space above her eyebrow. "And you're moving soon."

Hearing it from her mouth lands like a blow, even though I was already thinking it. "Yeah. I am."

Her gaze lingers on mine. In case I needed more proof that I should distance myself from her, there's an electric charge in the air between us, even at the worst possible time. It's the way I want to kiss away the disappointment in her eyes that I put there in the first place.

She tucks her hair behind her ears, her tone devoid of its usual pep. "I've got to head inside and start packing. Benji will want to clear out fast. I don't want to keep him waiting."

"In fairness, he wanted to clear out the minute he got here."

My attempt to lighten the mood to distract myself from the way my stomach is twisting into a painful knot, falls flat.

A drumbeat of panic echoes in my head. This does not feel like the right way to end things. We were tangled up in each other less than three hours ago, making plans for tonight.

"Have a good drive home."

I wince at my own statement. It's not enough.

She tips her frown toward the ground and fumbles in her pocket for the key card that'll let her back in the building. "Bye, Sebastian."

I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from hauling her into my arms to erase the last hour and bring us back to where we were this morning. But there's no going back.

We're over before we even began.

…

Alessia wedged a shoe in her door to keep it open, presumably so I could let myself in.

I wish she was a little less thoughtful sometimes. It'd help with this next part.

She's meticulously folding a shirt when I skulk into the room, determined to stop reeling from my conversation with Nora long enough to give this chat my full attention.

"Need help?" I perch on the foot of her bed in the one square foot not covered in clothing.

"Nah. I have a system." Her eyes briefly meet mine. "And you're a horrible folder."

"You fold like you still work at Abercrombie."

She lets out an unholy sound. " Don't remind me. I still smell that place in my nightmares."

I squeeze my knees as she makes quick work of a pair of overalls. Silence falls between us. If she's truly angry at me—which she has every right to be—I don't know how I'll stand it. We don't fight. She and Enzo? They tussle all the time and make up minutes later. It's what they do.

But she and I? We haven't fought in years. I truly hope this won't be one of those times.

Her lips turn down. "I think you may need to take Nella's massage chair for a spin when you get home and recover from this week. You have Hulky-Smashy face."

"I don't fit in that thing. Brookstone chairs are a racket." I force myself to meet her eye again. Looking at a friend when you've hurt them is worse than a bodily injury. "I fucked up big time. Alessia, I'm so sorry for risking your secret. More than you can ever know."

She sighs. "I do know. Because I know you ."

"I am the worst."

"Debatable. Billionaires still exist."

I hang my head. "What can I do to make this right?"

"Easy." She balls up a Celebrations by El shirt and throws it at my face. "Win the lottery and give me half. If billionaires have to exist, I want to be one of them."

My heart rate settles only slightly at the humor in her voice. I throw the shirt back.

She clutches it to her chest. "It was a horribly kept secret in the first place. Eloise and I share an address, Rossi. I brought her here as the caterer . You didn't out me. I could've claimed you cheated and called it a day, but I outed me because I wanted to. Do not spend your time agonizing over this, okay?"

"But agonizing is so easy when you ruin a wedding," I grumble.

Her sigh is gently scolding. "If you're going to just sit there like a sad sack, then maybe you should help me pack." She throws me a small, zippered bag. "Go round up our soaps and makeup and put them in here. Make sure the bottles are shut— Wait." Her catlike eyes turn eager. "What happened downstairs with Nora? What's going on with you two? Spill the beans."

I squeeze the bag in my hand to offset the sharp pain that shoots through me. "Nothing. And after the talk she and I had, it's clear nothing ever will."

"Oh no. After all that, you're done ? That's…" She trails off as she examines my face. I can't imagine what she sees there. Her eyes flash with pity. "Do you want to talk about it?"

And tell her it hurts more than it should? That does no one any good. The sooner I stop talking about it, the sooner I'll stop thinking about her.

"You know what I really want to do?" I shove off the bed, which is a carbon copy of the one Nora and I shared last night. "Bag my best friend's toiletries."