All Chapters of My Sister's Fiance: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

We finally got home an hour later.An hour that felt like sitting in a surgery waiting room while pretending to like the wallpaper.The twins were full of pizza, full of toys, full of attention, and softening in that way little bodies always did right before they gave up completely. Max was still being powered by garlic knots and euphoria. Issa was still talking, but now every third sentence came with a small yawn she treated like a personal insult.The problem was, before we actually got out of that lounge, those two little monsters had managed to tie my future to a post and set it on fire.“I want to come back,” Max said, already standing by Zach’s leg, holding a tiny car that had somehow become his at some point.Issa lifted her chin immediately. “Me too. But next time I want a room that’s less sad.”I had already opened my mouth to say no, obviously. Then Zach, that bastard with a face far too calm for a man actively wrecking the stability of my life, looked at them and said, “If

I still went to Northlake.Of course I do.Because apparently being a CEO meant you still had to show up, still had to keep an eye on what your team was doing to someone else’s systems, still had to make sure no junior analyst accidentally clicked the wrong thing and made an entire real estate company implode from the inside out. Even when every part of your body was screaming at you to turn the car around, go home, and pretend Portland did not contain a glass building occupied by your sister’s former fiancé.We’d crossed paths in the lower parking garage that morning.I got out of the car, looked at him for three seconds, then immediately started walking faster.“Bella.”I didn’t turn.My heels hit the concrete, laptop bag on my shoulder, coffee in hand, and my self-respect dragged me away like a best friend who knew exactly when to haul you out of a bar.“Arabella.”Still nothing.Because if I turned, I would see his face. And if I saw his face, I would remember the lounge yesterday

At home, the first thing I did was throw my keys into the ceramic bowl by the door so hard the sound bounced through the foyer.Two little heads in the family room snapped toward me.Max sat cross-legged on the carpet, his navy T-shirt riding up a little over his adorably round little belly, one toy car in each hand. His black hair was a mess, as usual. His blue eyes, which were unfortunately far too beautiful to be separated from the source of their original sin, widened for a fraction of a second.On the couch, Issa was lying half-lazily on her back in a butter-yellow house dress and a thin cardigan that had somehow lost a button along the way. Her dark hair was pinned with two butterfly clips in different colors, because of course she considered symmetry something for people with limited vision. Her hazel eyes moved quickly from my face to the door, to my bag, then back to my face.The house was too quiet.No sound of Bianna from the kitchen. No Karl laughing out on the deck. No Th

I looked at him a few seconds too long.So I nodded.Karl’s face changed immediately, something in his mouth coming loose. The lines around his eyes softened.Then he stood. “Maximus,” he called. “Beauty Queen.”Issa spun around first. “I don’t like being called after the little man.”Max was already running. “He called me first because I’m the favorite.”“NO ONE IS THE FAVORITE,” I shouted automatically.They ignored me with impressive consistency.Those two small bodies shot toward the deck, short legs pounding over the wet grass, then up the wooden steps. Max got there first, of course, because he had the energy of a child born to make insurance expensive. Issa was two steps behind him, somehow still managing to tug at the edge of her cardigan and look offended by gravity.Karl had barely opened his arms before the two mini missiles crashed into his legs.“Whoa,” he laughed, half losing his balance. Thank God he had already put his glass on the low table. Survival instincts, appare

Rain fell in that very Oregon way. A thin misty drizzle suspended in the air, just enough to dampen the ends of your hair, make the cabin’s wooden steps shine, and turn the whole pine forest around us into a movie set built specifically to make women make bad decisions.The cabin stood among tall, dark, beautiful trees, with big windows, a wooden porch, warm yellow lights tucked under the roof, and one small road that still made sense for people who required espresso, Wi-Fi, and basic human rights. Down the hill was the main road, with a little café, a general store, and the bakery we had passed earlier. So yes, technically this was a “retreat to the woods.” In practice, it was the woods for people who still wanted artisan croissants and full signal.I stood on the wet gravel in front of the cabin with both hands tucked into the pockets of my camel wool coat, staring at the row of rain-darkened pines, then at the thin fog hanging low between the tree trunks.I grew up with too many mo