Chapter 4

The day before I left the country, my boss gave me the day off, specifically so I could spend some time with my family.

Before I'd even gotten through the door, waves of laughter were already spilling out of the old house.

My mother's laugh rang out the loudest.

"Oh, Ryan, if you were my son, I'd wake myself up laughing in the middle of the night."

My hand paused on the door handle.

I pushed it open, and the whole room, faces lit up with smiles, turned toward me all at once. It made me feel like I didn't belong.

Serena sat right in the middle of the couch, eating an orange. The moment she saw me, the smile fell off her face, and she let out a short, cold huff.

My mother shot me a look, already gearing up for a fight.

"Tristan, what's going on with you? Serena said you two have been at odds lately?"

I didn't answer. I just poured myself a glass of water.

My mother rolled up her sleeves and started to get to her feet.

Ryan glanced at me and jumped in to smooth things over. "Mrs. Rodner, it's nothing. Tristan's just been busy with work lately."

My mother slapped the arm of the couch.

"Busy? Looks to me like he's gotten too big for his britches, scowling the second he walks in the door.

"Just look at Ryan. If you had half his sense, your father and I would be living the easy life."

Ryan, sitting beside my mother, flushed with pleasure at the praise, though he shot me a careful glance out of the corner of his eye.

He got up, carrying a plate of sliced fruit over to me, and held it out with something close to a plea in his expression.

"Tristan, have some fruit. I cut up the mango, the kind you like."

I didn't take the plate.

I looked him in the eye and, out of nowhere, asked, "Ryan, do you have feelings for Serena?"

The whole room went silent for a beat.

Ryan's hand jerked, and a few pieces of mango tumbled off the plate and onto the floor. His face turned red in an instant, visibly, and his lips moved without any sound coming out.

The living room stayed silent for three full seconds.

Then Serena shot to her feet, her face gone ashen.

"Tristan, what is wrong with you? What kind of question is that to ask him? What's going on in that head of yours?"

My father rose from the couch too, frowning.

"Tristan, watch how you talk. Ryan's practically family. We watched him grow up."

My mother was worked up now too.

"What has gotten into you lately? Ryan's so good to you, and you..."

I stood by the dining table, facing three familiar faces.

My father. My mother. And Serena, whom I'd known for twenty-six years. Every single one of them wore the same look of disappointment and disapproval — all because of Ryan.

I forced a smile, my voice flat, like I was delivering a bad joke.

"Relax, I was kidding."

Serena froze.

Ryan just stared at me, and my name came out of his mouth in a hoarse, broken voice.

"Tristan..."

In the end, it was Serena who scratched her head in defeat and threw up her hands like she was surrendering.

"I really can't win with you. Fine — every decision we made before, forget it, we'll scrap it all. I'll do whatever you say. Happy now?"

I looked at her.

She came closer, her tone weary, the way you'd talk to a sulking child.

"Don't be mad anymore, okay? It's all sorted now. Whatever you want, that's what we'll do.

"Tomorrow, on your lunch break, I'll come pick you up and take you to see the wedding venue. Sound good?"

No, it didn't. I'd already said it. I wasn't marrying her.

Early the next morning, I boarded a flight with Mr. Grant, bound for a city thousands of miles away.

On my phone, Serena had sent a string of messages in the middle of the night about wedding preparations.

I calmly switched my phone off and flew straight toward my future.