Morning Aftertaste

Isabella's POV 

I opened my eyes slightly. Sunlight came through the curtains like it personally wanted to punish me for last night. I woke up feeling like someone had taken my body apart and put it back together with the wrong instructions. 

My thighs ached in a way that made me blush just thinking about why.  My lips were still a little swollen. And between my legs… yeah, still a bit sensitive.

I rolled over, buried my face in the pillow, and groaned into it like that would make the memories disappear. 

“Fuck” I screamed. They didn't. 

I could still see Dad’s hands gripping Lila’s hips. Still hear that low, broken groan when he came. I still felt that heat that pooled low in my belly while I watched… like my own body decided to betray me in real time.

Last night I didn’t fall asleep immediately, I thought of the last time I was in someone arms.

That was with Lucas from three summers ago.

I was twenty, he was twenty-five. He had come back for a month between jobs.

I was crying in my room, over some stupid fight with Claire, some stupid boy who didn't call back.

He knocked once. Didn’t wait for an answer. Just came in and sat on the edge of my bed. “Hey, what happened?” 

I turned my face into the pillow. “Nothing.” 

He didn’t push, just sat there, resting his hand lightly on my back— not patting, just… there.

After a while I rolled over and looked at him.

“You don't have to talk,” he said. “But you don’t have to be alone either.”

I don't know who moved first.

Maybe me.

Maybe him. But suddenly I was sitting up and his arms were around me. Not brotherly. Not safe.

His hand slid up my back— under my tank top. I shivered. He pulled back just enough to look at me… breath uneven, eyes wide, guilty, hungry.

“We can't,” he said. Voice rough. “We shouldn’t.” 

I reached for him. “Please.” 

He closed his eyes. Shook his head. “I love you too much to ruin you,” he said.

Then stood and walked away. 

I lay there aching, alone. He never touched me again after that night.

Not like that.

But I never forgot.

Now, in the dark of my room, years later, I slid my hand under the sheet and closed my eyes. I remembered the way he’d looked at me. Torn desperate, loving. I came, so hard, shuddering, tears leaking from the corners of my eyes… whispering his name into the pillow.

When the aftershocks faded, I laid there panting.

I dragged myself out of bed, showered until the water ran cold, and tried to scrub away the guilt along with the imaginary chlorine smell that wasn’t even on my skin. It didn't work.

I went downstairs to the kitchen, it smelled like coffee, bacon, and Maria’s secret pancake batter, that could probably fix world peace if she bottled it. 

Dad was at the table, scrolling emails on his tablet, looking exactly like the man who had been balls-deep deep in someone half his age twelve hours earlier.

No guilt on his face, No bags under his eyes, how did he do that.

He still wore the same white shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair still damp from his shower. 

“Morning, sweetheart,” he said without looking up. “You're up early.”

“Barely,” I mumbled, grabbing a mug and pouring coffee like my life depended on it. “I didn't sleep great.”

He glanced at me then, lovingly, quick. “You okay? You look a little… off.”

I forced a smile. “Just tired. Wedding stress. Claire’s been texting me nonstop about napkin colors. I think she’s one wrong shade away from breaking down.”

Dad laughed. “That sounds like her, she called me yesterday crying because the florist sent blush instead of dusty rose. I told her to breathe.”

“Yeah, well, she's breathing.” I took a sip. It burned my tongue. Good, pain was grounding. “She wants me at the dress fitting Monday. Said if I’m not there she ceases to be my sister.”

“You'll go,” he said, it wasn't a question. “Family first.”

I nooded. 

Family first. 

Right.

Camilla walked in at that moment.

She looked like she just stepped out of a beauty magazine. Cream lined pants, silk blouse the color of expensive champagne, lipstick perfect. She smelled of jasmine, Dad's money and control.

“Good morning, darlings,” she said, voice warm and smooth. 

She kissed the top of Dad’s head, casual and affectionate. Then came around the table and kissed my cheek. Her lips lingered half a second too long.

“Isabella” she murmured, low enough that only I could hear. “You look like you seen a ghost. Rough night?”

I nearly dropped my mug.

She stepped back, poured herself coffee, and sat across from me like nothing had happened, looking like a queen on a chessboard.

My Dad didn’t notice, he was already back to his emails. 

Camilla crossed her legs under the table, her bare foot brushed my ankle. Once, it was light but deliberate.

My whole body locked up, I moved my leg back so fast my knee hit the table leg and coffee splashed over the table.

Dad frowned. “You alright?”

“Yeah,”  I replied too quickly. “Cramp. You know girly stuff. Sorry.”

Camilla sipped her coffee like it was nothing, eyes on her phone now, scrolling calmly. But the corner of her mouth lifted. Did she just smirk?.

“I stood up. “I'm gonna get ready for brunch.”

“You haven't even touched your meal,” Dad said.

“I'll grab something later.” I walked out fast, my heart pounding. 

Camilla watched her almost run up the stairs, robe slipping off one shoulder like she was trying to escape her own skin.

Aww poor thing. She thought she was invisible last night. 

She wasn't smart enough. 

She had seen her shadow in the doorway, how long she stayed before she ran. She'd the way her hand pressed against the wall like she needed to keep it from falling.

Richard was back to tablet, talking about boring stock futures like the world still made sense. 

He had no idea what was coming.

He had no idea Camilla had already come up with how she wanted to play this game.

She placed her cup down. “Darling, I’m going to check on the gardeners. The roses need a little trimming before the wedding photos.”

He hissed without looking up. “Tell them to stay away from the pool house. I don’t want them near my cigars.”

She almost laughed. Instead she leaned down and kissed his cheeks. “Of course”.

Then she walked outside. The air was warm already. Summer was coming in hard.

She followed the path toward the pool house, not cause she needed to see it again, but because she wanted to feel the space where it happened.

The door was locked. Camilla didn’t have the key. Didn’t need it. She stood there for a moment, breathing in the faint chlorine smell that still lingered. Then. She turned and looked up at the east wing windows.

Isabella's curtains were closed now. But she knew she was up there.

Probably staring at herself in the mirror, trying to convince herself she didn’t feel what she felt. 

Camilla smiled. She would learn soon enough.

Everyone in this house was playing a game. 

She was just the only one who knew the fucking rules.

Lila’s POV

I woke up to the smell of coffee coming through the open window. 

Mom was already in the kitchen,banging pots.  She always made too much noise when she was nervous. I knew exactly why. She heard Richard’s car pull up late last night. She never said anything to me, but she knew. 

I stretched, good God. I felt the soreness between my legs. Good soreness, I smirked at myself. 

I was folding towels in the laundry room when Mom called from the kitchen.

“Lila Brunch with Sasha’s group… you going?”

I almost regretted telling her about it, she's been yabbing since. Talking about blending in with the girls.

“Yeah,” I yelled back. “Eleven.”

“Good. Wear something nice. Isabella will be there.”

I rolled my eyes even though she couldn't see me. “Mom… I always wear something nice.”

Mom poked her head in. “Just say baby. You know how those Maxwell girls are. Always dressed like they're going to a photoshoot.”

“I know, I know” I said. I hated talks about them being better than me. “I'll be fine.”

She disappeared again. 

I finished the towels and went to my room to get ready. In the mirror, I checked the bite mark on my neck. Faint, but there. I dabbed concealer over it, them added a little more. Better.

I pulled on high waist black shorts and a cropped white tank. Simple but cute. Not trying too hard.

My phone beeped.

Sasha again.

*You're coming, right? Isabella's being weird this morning. Need backup.*

I typed back:

*On my way soon. She okay?*

*No idea. She won't say why. Probably wedding stress.*

*Probably* I replied. Smiled at the screen.

Or maybe she's still thinking about what she saw last night. 

I grabbed my bag and headed out.

Today was gonna be fun.