Chapter Four

* Lawrence *

She came the next day.

Dianne always moved like she belonged wherever she stepped, heels clicking with authority even on the pebbled stone walkway leading to the Magnolia lobby. Her arrival was timed perfectly with the late afternoon hush, when the sun turned amber and the tourists retreated into air-conditioned rooms. I spotted her through the reflection of my sunglasses as I nursed a half-finished beer on a lounge chair, pretending to sleep.

She wore white. A linen romper that hugged her like a glove and made her look like she belonged in a resort magazine spread. Dianne's father is my Dad's business partner and a friend, all the more reason why she and I are being thrown at each other since we were young.

"Lawrence," she said, standing above me, blocking out the sun like a storm cloud.

I opened one eye and gave a sheepish grin. "You made it."

"You sound surprised," she said flatly, dropping her designer duffel beside the chair. "Room number?"

I sighed, rising slowly. "Come on. I'll take you."

We walked through the stone paths in silence. The laughter of children by the pool echoed behind us, but between us, it felt like an invisible wall had risen. Still, I unlocked the door to my cabana suite and let her in. I didn't want a fight. Not today.

But Dianne never needed a reason to push.

The moment the door clicked behind us, she rounded on me. "Why, Lawrence? Why didn't you tell me?"

I rubbed the back of my neck, tension knotting in my shoulders. "Because I knew you'd do this."

"Do what? Care?"

"Invade."

She blinked. "Wow."

I didn't mean it to sound cruel, but it hung between us like smoke. Dianne stepped closer, her perfume clouding the air, expensive, musky, too much for a beach town like this. Her hand reached up, grazing my chest. "Let's not fight."

I exhaled.

She tilted her head. "Let me remind you why we work."

Her lips found mine before I could respond. I kissed her back, out of instinct more than desire. Her hands slid under my shirt, then down to my waistband. I let her. Not because I wanted to. But because I didn't want to answer the questions behind her eyes.

She guided us toward the bed, clothes unraveling along the way like a trail. The island disappeared. The sounds outside muted. And for a few minutes, I lost myself in her grip.

But then the knock came.

Soft. Hesitant.

I froze. Dianne didn't. "Ignore it," she breathed against my neck.

But I couldn't. Something about the timing... Something uneasy rippled through me.

Another knock. This time, the door creaked open slightly, just a crack. Then a small gasp. I turned my head, just in time to see the face on the other side.

She stood there, frozen in the doorway.

The girl. Her.

A cleaning cart behind her, a fresh stack of towels in her arms, and that wide, stunned expression on her young, flushed face. Her mouth parted in horror. Her eyes, those soft, brown eyes, locked with mine for one second too long.

Though I still didn't know her name, I would never forget that face. Not now. Not after the way she looked at me, like I'd shattered something delicate in her hands.

Then, before I could say a word, she turned and bolted.

"Wait—" I started to sit up, instinctively, heart stumbling in my chest.

Dianne gripped my wrist. "What the hell was that?"

"I—" I pulled on my shirt, breath tight in my throat. "She's just staff."

But even as I said it, it tasted wrong. Dismissive. Hollow.

"Then why did you have to stop Renz?"

The question coming from Dianne as I fix myself. "Because this isn't right, what if she spread rumors about us Dianne?"

It was far from that, the truth is all the heat I felt earlier disappeared. It almost felt like I was being thrown with an ice-cold water after I saw her. Dianne rolled her eyes upward.

"Come on! Your Dad owned this resort Renz, not one could tarnished your reputation specially coming from just a cleaner."

"Just a cleaner," Dianne said, like it was nothing. Like people could be brushed off like dust on her linen romper.

I stood there, jaw clenched, trying to steady the surge that rose inside me. The words hit me in the gut, not because they were false, but because they were cruel. And I'd never realized just how much cruelty Dianne could pack into one sentence until that moment.

"She's a person, Dianne."

She scoffed, throwing herself back onto the bed, sheets half-draped over her body like a careless painting. "Oh, please. You're really going to act like this is some kind of moral dilemma now?"

I turned away from her, staring out the narrow window of the cabana. The sun was still dipping below the horizon, casting long gold streaks over the resort, but it felt like a storm was rising inside me.

"You didn't see her face."

"No, Lawrence. You didn't see your own." Her tone cut deep now, sharp, edged with something bitter. "You looked at her like—like you were caught cheating. And last time I checked, we're not even official."

I turned slowly, narrowing my eyes. "You showed up uninvited."

"And you kissed me back."

"Out of habit," I snapped, regretting the words the moment they left my mouth.

Dianne's face stiffened. For a moment, the confidence wavered. Her lip quivered, not enough for anyone else to notice, but I knew her too well. She wasn't used to being rejected. Especially not by me.

"This is bullshit," she muttered, rising and pacing toward her bag. "You want me out?"

I didn't answer right away. I stared at the door instead, the one the girl had stood in. The door still slightly ajar, as if inviting guilt to linger.

"Lawrence." Dianne's voice sharpened. "Do you want me gone?"

I raked a hand through my hair. "I don't know what I want right now."

"Then I'll make it easy for you."

She picked up her bag and stormed past me, brushing my shoulder on the way out, her perfume trailing behind like a final note to a song I no longer liked.

The door slammed. And the silence that followed felt deafening.

I let out a long breath and sat at the edge of the bed, my fingers dragging down my face.

Who was she, that girl?

I'd seen her before, hadn't I? Somewhere around the resort. Cleaning near the garden path. Fixing up rooms with that quiet intensity. She couldn't be more than eighteen maybe younger. She looked at everything like it had stories.

And she looked at me like I had ruined one.

Guilt twisted in my chest. Not because of what Dianne and I had done. But because I hadn't stopped it sooner. Because I hadn't seen the girl standing there until it was too late.

I don't even know her name, I thought. But now I wanted to.