The man, Malcolm would learn his name later, Ethan Blake, hadn't seen them yet. But he was walking in their direction. Another 30 seconds and there'd be no avoiding it. Malcolm watched Vivian do something he had never seen her do before. She hesitated.

Vivian Sinclair, who walked into rooms like she'd already won, sat there hesitating and something in Malcolm's chest responded to that with a protectiveness he hadn't expected and couldn't entirely explain. Then she made her decision. She stood up from her chair, turned to face Malcolm directly, and sat down. Smooth, deliberate, unhesitating. Right in his lap.

The whole motion took maybe 4 seconds. And it hit Malcolm with the physical reality of it in a way that his brain was still trying to catch up to when she turned and looked straight into his eyes from a distance of about 6 inches. "Kiss me." She said. low, direct, no apology in it. "My ex is watching."

The beach kept going around them. Kids screamed in the surf. Music floated from somewhere up the shore. Jerome was 30 yards away at a food cart, blissfully unaware. Malcolm didn't move.

He was very aware of her weight in his lap. Very aware of how close her face was to his. Very aware that this woman, his client, his business partner, the CEO, who had sat across from him in boardrooms for 3 years, was asking him to perform something for an audience of one, using him like a prop in a scene she hadn't cast him for. He should have been irritated. He was irritated.

But there was something else underneath it that he wasn't ready to name yet. He kept his voice very steady. "What aren't you telling me?" She blinked. That surprised her.

She'd expected him to either play along or push her off. She hadn't expected a question. "Malcolm, I'm not asking you to move," he said quietly. "I'm asking you to talk to me." She held his gaze.

And for just a moment, just a flash, he saw something behind the composure. Something that had been there a long time. "He left me," she said. "Four years ago, 3 weeks before the wedding, sent a letter." She paused.

"He's got someone new, and he's been smiling at me for the past 10 minutes from down the beach because he thinks I came here alone. And you didn't want him to think that?" "No." "So you sat in my lap." A beat.

"Yes." Malcolm looked at her. Really looked, the way he rarely let himself look at her, because looking at Vivian Sinclair too directly felt like staring into something bright. He saw the pride there, and underneath the pride, the wound. He understood wounds.

He'd been carrying his own for 6 years. He's not worth it. Malcolm said quietly. Whatever you think him seeing this will do, it won't do it. Men like that don't feel what you want them to feel.

They just feel confirmed. Vivian's expression shifted. Something moved across her face. Not offense. Something softer.

Something almost like being seen. I know, she said, and her voice for the first time had lost its edge. I know that. I just She stopped, looked down. I panicked.

And you were She looked back up at him. You were right here. I was right here. He agreed. They looked at each other.

Neither moved. And then, from down the beach, a voice carried through the salt air. Confident, pleasantly surprised, the voice of a man who assumed all situations were his to control. Vivian? Vivian Sinclair?

Malcolm watched her close her eyes for exactly 1 second. Then, she opened them. Straightened her back. Became Vivian Sinclair, CEO, again, right in front of him. But she didn't get up from his lap.

And Malcolm, against every reasonable instinct he possessed, didn't ask her to. Yep, there he Ethan Blake was the kind of man who filled a space with his presence and then checked to make sure everyone had noticed. He walked up to them with his hand already extended for a shake. His companion, a woman who looked vaguely uncomfortable, slightly behind him. I thought that was you, Ethan said warmly, like they were old friends.

Like he hadn't left her by letter 3 weeks before their wedding. You look fantastic. Don't let me interrupt. And here, his eyes moved deliberately to Malcolm, taking in the full picture with the practiced ease of a man who'd learned how to dismiss people without appearing to. I just wanted to say hello.

Hello, Ethan, Vivian said. Her voice was completely even. You here with work? I figured you'd be on some island in the Mediterranean by now. I'm here with friends, Vivian said.

Ethan's gaze settled on Malcolm, extended his hand. Ethan Blake. Malcolm shook it, firm. Malcolm Carter. Malcolm.

Ethan smiled the smile of a man who was sizing him up and trying not to look like he was. Good man. Good. He looked back at Vivian. Well, glad you're doing well.

You seem happy. The word seem landed with a very specific weight. We should catch up before the weekend's over. We should, Vivian said pleasantly. Which everyone present understood to mean we absolutely will not.

Ethan gave one more wide smile, nodded at Malcolm, turned, and walked away. His companion glancing back once over her shoulder. The moment they were out of earshot, Malcolm felt some of the rigidity go out of Vivian's posture. She let out a long, slow breath. You can move now, Malcolm said.

If you want. She didn't move immediately. Thank you, she said quietly. For not making it weird. It was a little weird, he said.

She laughed, a real one, short, surprised, real. And then she did move, stood up, smoothed her cover-up, picked up her sunglasses, back to herself. But something was different now, and they both knew it. Malcolm, you don't have to explain yourself. I want to.

He looked at her. Not here. Not right now. You don't owe me anything. She He his gaze for a long moment.

I owe you an honest conversation, she said. At the very least. Before he could respond, Jayden came sprinting up the beach. Hair soaked, grinning wide, holding a shell the size of his fist. Dad.

Dad, look what I found. Jerome says it might be worth something. Is that true? He skidded to a stop when he saw Vivian. Looked her up and down with the blunt appraisal that only a 10-year-old could deliver without it being rude.

Hi. You were at the office once. You brought donuts. Vivian looked startled, then genuinely delighted. I did.

You remember that? They were really good donuts. Jayden turned back to Malcolm. Dad, the shell. Show me, Malcolm said.

And just like that, the world kept moving. But something had changed. Malcolm could feel it in the way Vivian lingered another 10 minutes before she said her goodbyes. Could feel it in the way she looked at Jayden one more time before she turned to walk away. Could feel it in the way she glanced back at Malcolm once.

Just once before the crowd swallowed her up. He told himself he was reading too much into it. He was very good at telling himself that. That night, after Jayden was asleep in the hotel room they were sharing with Jerome's family, Malcolm stood on the balcony and looked out at the ocean. He thought about what Vivian had said.

You were right here. He thought about the weight of her in his lap. About the flash of something vulnerable he'd seen behind her eyes before she'd sealed it up again. About the way she'd known Jayden liked donuts. From a visit, what, 2 years ago?

Maybe more? He thought about what it meant that she'd remembered. He thought about a lot of things he usually kept in a box. His phone buzzed on the railing. A text.

Unknown number. but the message gave it away immediately. I know that was unfair. I'm sorry. V Malcolm stared at it for a long moment. Then he typed back.