Serena’s POVThe lights dim, and the chatter of the reception quiets as the opening notes of "Crazier" by Taylor Swift float through the air. Bill takes my hand, his grip steady, and leads me to the center of the dance floor. The spotlight feels warm, but it’s nothing compared to the way he’s looki
Calvin’s POVThe whiskey glass feels cool against my hand, the amber liquid catching the light as I swirl it lazily. The clinking ice is oddly comforting, a quiet sound in contrast to the laughter and music filling the reception. I’m sitting at the bar, a little removed from the crowd. It’s better t
Stevie’s POVThere’s something about an open bar and a wedding dress code that just makes people lose their damn minds, and honestly? I’m here for it. After my speech, I’ve earned the right to let loose, and by let loose, I mean dance like a maniac and drink just enough to get tipsy, not trashed. Th
Stevie’s POVThe second we step onto the dance floor, I realize I’ve made a mistake. Calvin doesn’t just dance — he moves like he’s got something to prove, and my body is all too willing to keep up. His hand slides to my waist, firm and deliberate, pulling me close enough that I feel the heat radiat
Serena’s POVThe reception is in full swing, and I’m mid-laugh at one of Bill’s dry jokes when something catches my eye. I glance toward the dance floor, taking in the swirling crowd, and then I see it. I freeze mid-sentence, my smile faltering. “Why is Stevie grinding on Calvin?” The words slip out
Bill’s POVThe door to our suite clicks shut behind us, muffling the sounds of the party still in full swing downstairs. I glance at Serena, who’s already kicking off her shoes with a sigh of relief. Her smile is tired but genuine, and I can’t help but stare for a second. She’s still in her dress, t
Calvin’s POVThe bar is quieter than the reception, but the burn of whiskey in my glass is no match for the fire still coursing through me. Dancing with Stevie was supposed to be a distraction, a little fun. But now? Now I can’t stop thinking about the way her body felt pressed against mine. The way
Stevie’s POVI can’t remember how we got from the bar to the elevator, but I know I’ve been kissing Calvin like my life depends on it. His hands are everywhere—my waist, my ass, tangled in my hair. I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed like this. It’s all-consuming, messy, and so goddamn good. By the
Stevie’s POVThe ride to the clinic is quiet. Calvin’s hands are steady on the wheel, his focus fixed on the road. I know he’s trying to make this feel normal, like he’s not driving me to an appointment that confirms the biggest change in my life. It doesn’t work.“You didn’t have to drive me,” I sa
Stevie’s POVThis has to be the fanciest kidnapping in the history of bad ideas.I’m standing in the foyer of Calvin’s penthouse, staring at the polished marble floors, the towering windows, and a chandelier that looks like it could fund a small country. Everything about this place screams luxury—to
Calvin’s POVHospitals always feel the same—like time slows down, stretching every second into an eternity. I’m standing outside Stevie’s room, staring at the door, willing myself to move. My hand hovers near the handle, but I can’t bring myself to push it open.I can hear her voice faintly through
Serena’s POV“Stevie, stay with me,” I mutter, my voice shaking as I keep one arm wrapped around her shoulders. Her weight sags against me, and I feel the panic rising in my chest.“I’m fine,” she whispers weakly, but her pale face and unfocused eyes say otherwise.“You’re not fine,” I snap, flaggin
Serena’s POVThe office feels quieter than usual. Maybe it’s the late hour or the fact that most people have already gone home. But as I glance across the room at Stevie, hunched over her laptop, I know something’s off.She’s always had a way of pushing through, of pretending everything’s fine when
Calvin’s POVFatherhood.The word keeps bouncing around my head, refusing to settle. It feels foreign, heavy. Like trying on a jacket that doesn’t fit but knowing you’re stuck wearing it anyway.I stare out the window of my office, watching the city buzz below. Cars honk. People hustle. Life moves o
Stevie’s POVI’m pacing my living room, muttering to myself like a lunatic.“Calvin, listen—no, that’s too polite.” I stop and shake my head, trying again. “Look, Calvin, I don’t owe you an explanation. That’s better. Straight to the point. No room for debate.”I glance at the mirror above my couch
Calvin’s POVI see her before she sees me.Stevie’s stepping out of the building, her bag slung over her shoulder, sunglasses perched on her nose. She looks like she’s trying to blend into the crowd, which is almost funny considering Stevie Malone doesn’t exactly do subtle.“Stevie,” I call, walking
Serena’s POVI spot Stevie slipping out of the ballroom as I’m finishing up a conversation with a PR exec. She moves quickly, almost like she’s trying not to be seen, but I know her too well. The slight wobble in her steps, the way she clutches her bag like it’s holding her together — it’s a dead gi