Page 213 of Before We Were

"I'll see you later, okay?" I turn to head downstairs, but before I can take a step, Nate catches my wrist and pulls me back.

I gasp as I'm spun into him, my chest pressed against his. One hand cups my face, his thumb tracing my cheekbone while the other rests low at my waist. The bruises on his knuckles catch my eye again, concern flickering through me.

"Nate—"

He silences me with a kiss that consumes everything—thought, breath, doubt. It's electric and demanding, setting every nerve ending alive. My hands find his chiseled jaw, and in moments like this, the world beyond us ceases to exist. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, both of us breathless.

“I’ll see you later," he murmurs, his lips curving into that devastatingly familiar grin.

I nod, my cheeks flushed and heart racing. And just like that, Nate Sullivan has turned my entire world on its axis.

Again.

The distant honk of a car horn and my buzzing phone drag us back to reality.

"Call me if you need to bail early," he says, his voice rough but serious.

I kiss him one last time, still marveling at how we got here, before heading toward the stairs. Just as I reach the top, his voice follows me.

"Stay out of trouble, Leni."

I glance back with a grin. "I'll try."

The cool air outside feels sharp against my flushed cheeks as I slide into the waiting G-Wagon. Marcus sits at the wheel, and Camilla greets me with a knowing smile that makes me want to sink into the leather seats.

"What took you so long?" she teases, eyes dancing. "I thought you fell down the stairs or something. I was this close to calling an ambulance, or maybe the fire brigade."

I roll my eyes, but her gaze flicks to my lips, making me self-conscious of how swollen they must be from Nate's kiss.

"Ohhh," Camilla draws out the word like honey. "Guess it wasn't the stairs after all." She winks.

Heat floods my cheeks.

Marcus's grin is visible in the rearview mirror. "So, how are the boys getting there?"

"Nate's not coming," I say, focusing on the passing scenery to hide my disappointment. "Ollie and Jake left about twenty minutes ago."

Camilla's playful smile dims. "Jake still giving you the cold shoulder?"

I nod, a familiar ache settling in my chest. "He's been avoiding me like the plague."

Marcus hums thoughtfully. "He'll come around. Just give him time."

But the wall Jake's built between us feels more permanent than temporary, like a fortress I don't have the key to breach. The guilt of hurting him mingles with frustration. How do you fix something when the other person won't even look at you?

Camilla reaches over and squeezes my hand, her touch grounding. "Let's just have some drama-free fun today, okay?"

I nod, grateful for her optimism even as unease lingers beneath my skin. Taking a deep breath, I try to focus on the day ahead and hopefully no more surprises.

The buzzof the polo grounds snaps me back to reality. Summer-warmed air carries the mingled scents of freshly cut grass and expensive perfume, while excitement ripples through the crowd like electricity. The grounds stretch out before us like a scene from another world—pristine white tents gleaming under the golden afternoon sun, their peaks reaching toward a cloudless sky.

Luxury cars line up like soldiers on parade—Rolls-Royces, Aston Martins, and Bentleys reflecting the day's opulence in their polished surfaces. Men in tailored linen suits and women in flowing designer dresses drift across the manicured grass, champagne flutes catching the light like stars.

"God, it's like a Ralph Lauren catalog exploded in here," Camilla mutters, her gaze sweeping the scene with amused disdain.

My attention catches on Mia, already warming up on her horse. She's grace personified, her focus unshakable as she guides her mount through practice movements. The sight of her so in her element, so purely herself, brings a smile to my face. Whatever today holds, Mia deserves this moment to shine.

As we weave through the buzzing crowd, I spot Ollie standing off to the side, arms crossed, and attention fixed on Mia like she's gravity itself. There's a softness in his expression I rarely see anymore—a glimpse of the brother I knew before grief hardened his edges.

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