Chapter 0002

For a moment, I stood frozen, spine rigid, feeling my pulse thud so hard I could almost see it through my jacket. I didn’t even need to glance at the screen to know the type of handsome Michael embodied—the kind that made every woman’s head turn. He was stupidly handsome, like a model or a deity sculpted from stone. The kind of good looks that seared into memory. I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the image burned behind my lids, tracing the contours of his face in my mind. His nose straight, his chestnut hair thick and wavy, streaked lighter from summer sun and darker in winter. His eyes a piercing clear grey, an unnatural shade that felt like it could penetrate your soul. High cheekbones, a square jaw softened by full lips that gave his brooding expression a touch of allure when he wasn’t smiling.

Michael.

I opened my eyes again, hoping it was a nightmare, a cruel trick of my mind. But as I looked down at the screen, there he was. His eyes now shadowed, lips pressed together in that familiar expression of annoyance. Nothing I did had ever been good enough for Michael.

And now, he was about to marry someone else. The weight of that realization hit me like a punch to the gut. I struggled for air, my fingers fumbling with the camera, nearly dropping it into the sand. I clawed at the collar of my sweater, trying to steady myself. Was this what drowning felt like?

Kate shot me a concerned glance. “You okay?”

I nodded, my voice shaky as I carefully settled the camera back over my shoulder. We couldn’t afford any mishaps with our equipment. I stood stock-still, watching as Michael and his fiancée walked towards us along the beach. His fiancée. I sucked in a breath, feeling like I was suffocating. I couldn’t believe Michael was getting married. He had always been the bon vivant, the life of the party who never settled down. Maybe he had changed. Maybe I didn’t really know him anymore.

The thought twisted painfully in my chest. Years ago, we had something special. He was best friends with my twin brother, Levi, but he was my confidant. I’d sit with him after bad dates, and he’d absentmindedly toss a baseball while commiserating with me. He was the only straight guy who would nod along when I declared, “men are trash.” And on nights he stumbled home too drunk, I’d make guacamole as we watched TV until he sobered up enough to sleep.

The echoes of our last argument reverberated through me, narrowing my eyes as old wounds reopened.

Fuck you, Michael.

You wish, baby.

Michael is a prick. All he cares about is money and status. He’s ruthless, devious, and a little bit rough around the edges for a boy who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.

He and his beautiful fiancée are nearing us. Any minute now, he’ll realize who I am. Kate waves as they approach.

“Can you lead this?” I say quickly, before Michael is within earshot.

Kate darts me an odd look. She never takes the lead.

“I’ll do the photos. I just need someone else to do the talking. I’m not feeling great.” My words are made more believable by my panic over seeing Michael.

“Sure. You sure you’re okay?”

No. I’m not okay. I nod, when in reality, I want to run from the beach. I don’t want to see Michael or his fiancée. I can’t bear to see him. He’ll introduce me to her, and I’ll have to pretend to like him, pretend I don’t know the exact contours of his shoulders and the way he laughs when he finds something really funny.

I see the moment recognition flickers across his face. His jaw flexes. His eyes widen slightly. His nostrils flare. If only I weren’t so tuned in to his reactions. Even after all these years, I know that flare to his nostrils is a sign of true shock.

“Lilly?” His voice rolls over me, a little raspy, delicious, like he had too much fun the night before. For a second Michael looks totally lost, his eyes wide, his lips parted. He rakes his gaze over me, takes one step forward, and then catches himself.

“Hi, Michael.”

“I had no idea you were the photographer.”

“Here I am,” I say awkwardly.

“Oh, you know her?” his fiancée cuts in, and I want to crawl under a rock. She’s beautiful in that way rich New York women are. Shiny hair, shiny teeth, perfect skin. Massive ring. “You’re such a talented photographer. I’m thrilled you’re taking the wedding photos.” She’s also genuinely nice. Great.

Michael does not look thrilled. In fact, he looks like he would rather be anywhere else. So would I. Seeing him as part of a couple makes a pit yawn in my stomach. Before the accident, I would have been invited to celebrate the engagement with him. I would have offered him a free photo shoot as a wedding gift. Now, I’m on the outside looking in.

“Why don’t we get started?” Kate cuts in. “Let’s start with a classic shot. Michael, why don’t you recreate the proposal, and get down on one knee?” Kate smiles winningly. If only that would be enough to save this.

I lift the camera in preparation, but Michael says, “No. Let’s keep this short. A few simple shots, and then we’re done.”

“But the drone photos…” Kate trails off as he shakes his head. I don’t remember him being this angry. Something has snapped in him. I can almost see the frayed threads of his temper. The thin veneer of civility is gone. He’s nothing like the boy I used to know, but I guess that’s been a long time in the making.

“I want to take some solo shots too, near the water. Can we start with those?” his nameless fiancée pipes up.

We turn to head down the beach, but Michael stops me with a simple, “Lilly. Can we talk?”

Kate flicks me a strange look but leads his fiancée down the beach.

I steel my spine and turn to him. “About what?”

“How are you?” His eyes soften as they scan my face, still so familiar and stunning. His full lips draw my gaze momentarily, and those uncanny grey eyes hold me in their gaze.

“I’m freezing cold, and I want to finish this shoot,” I reply coolly, though inwardly I’m anything but.

Michael frowns. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“What do you want, Michael?” I feel heat under my coat, unzipping it to let in the cold air. He unsettles me, scanning my expression as if searching for something deeper. His gaze drops to my body, and a flicker of anger crosses his face. Lips pressed into a thin line, he meets my eyes with stormy intensity.

“How are you, really?”

I stare back at him, guarded. “Why do you care?”

“It’s been a long time since we’ve talked.”

“There’s a reason for that.” I bite my lip, holding back words that threaten to spill out.

“Right. You made it clear. You never want to speak to me again,” he states flatly, his warmth from earlier replaced by a coldness that cuts through me.

“That’s what I said.” The memory of that hospital room surfaces vividly, the antiseptic scent and the sting of tears in my eyes.

“Okay.” He shoves his hands into his suit pockets. “I suppose we’ll stand here in silence until my fiancée returns.”

The word ‘fiancée’ makes me flinch, and he notices. His eyes remain fixed on me, calculating, as if dissecting my reactions with his sharp mind.

“What’s wrong, Lilly?”

“I just didn’t realize you were engaged.” I dig my nail under the label on my camera strap, a futile attempt to ground myself.

His smile lacks warmth, tinged with a hint of satisfaction. “I suppose congratulations are in order, wouldn’t you agree?”

My eyes meet his stormy gaze, roiling with dark emotions. When he’s happy, they shimmer like silver. But happiness seems distant now, etched lines framing his mouth tell a different story.

“Congratulations,” I say woodenly.

“Real convincing,” he sneers.

“I don’t need to convince you,” I shoot back. “Let’s just get this over with. The faster I’m out of your presence, the better.”

His eyes flash. “With customer service like that, no wonder you’re doing so well.”

Irritation simmers in my gut. How does he know our business is hanging by a thread? Levi. Levi must have told him. I told him not to tell Michael anything. He and I will be having a long conversation after this.

“I don’t want to discuss my business with you.” I don’t want to talk to you at all.

His face hardens even further. “Scared I’ll give you some valuable advice? You should charge more for the shoots, by the way. Only twenty-five grand? People would pay more.” He looks casual, cold. Giving me business advice on a lark. When for me, this is everything.

“Telling me what to do. As always. When are you going to understand that I don’t want your advice?” Because it’s never just advice. There’s a heaping side of criticism.

“Well, you could use it,” he says acidly.

“I’m sure you’ll tell me how I need to be more focused on money, right?”

“It’s worked for me thus far,” he retorts. His voice has an edge to it that makes my fists clench.

“Right. You’re a millionaire now. How could I forget?” I roll my eyes. “Heaven knows I’ve tried.”

“Billionaire.” His voice is low, and I shiver. “I’m a billionaire now.” He steps toward me, and I force myself not to take a step back.

“Yes, well. You were always disturbingly obsessed with making money. So, congratulations, I guess.”

"Because success is a bad thing." He raises a skeptical brow, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that feels more like an insult than a question. My skin prickles with heat where his eyes linger, even through my clothes. Asshole.

"That's exactly why I don't want to talk to you," I retort sharply. "You think everyone should be dissatisfied with their lives just because yours isn't like mine. But I like my business. I enjoy my hobbies. I like my life. I don't want to live like you."

"And how do I live?" His tone is cool, almost indifferent.

"Without caring what others want," I reply evenly.

His jaw tightens, but before he can respond, Kate returns down the beach.

"Let's finish the shoot," he says curtly. I nod, and we spend the remainder of the morning in tense silence. Every time he touches his fiancée, my stomach knots.

Finally, we arrive at the last shot of the morning. It feels like hours have passed, though in reality, this may be one of my shortest sessions ever. Michael is smiling down at his fiancée, and she gazes up at him adoringly. But I recognize that expression all too well—it's the one he wore whenever he was pretending to enjoy something he actually disliked. I shake my head and adjust my camera's zoom. It's not my place to speculate why my twin's best friend seems distant with his fiancée. All that matters is he's getting married, and I'm tasked with photographing the wedding. Oh God. The camera trembles in my hands. I will myself to steady them. I have to photograph the wedding. My stomach churns as if I might be sick right there on the cold sand.

Kate makes small talk with the couple while I pack up our equipment, and Michael escorts his fiancée back to the waiting town car. I kneel in the damp sand until they're gone, my mind racing with how I'll navigate this emotional minefield.