Page 22 of His Son's Ex

I bite my lip, staring at the strong planes of his face, the faint silver threading through his dark hair.

The way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing anchoring him to something good—nearly undoes me.

It would be so easy to stay, to pretend this could work.

But loving him out loud would come with a body count.

And we both know it.

I press a kiss to his chest before pulling away, lingering for half a second longer than I should.

Memorizing the warmth. The scent. The ache.

“Maybe it’s best to end on a good note.”

A brief flicker of sadness steals into his gaze. “If that’s what you want.”

I smooth a hand over his jawline, feeling the faint roughness of his stubble.

“It’s what’s smart,” I whisper. “That doesn’t mean I’ll ever forget.”

I stand and gather my clothes, my skin still humming from his touch as I slip them on.

He dresses too, each movement slow, like dragging through molasses, like maybe if we take long enough—this won’t have to end.

By the time I slip back into my dress, the chaos from earlier has apparently simmered.

I check my phone.

Another text from Halsey.

Halsey:

Guests are still buzzing.

Reception starting.

You better walk into this bitch like the main event.

I lower the phone slowly and turn to face him.

My voice is a whisper, heavy with meaning. Heavy with goodbye.

“You knew I’d fall for you, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t flinch.

He just watches me like he’s memorizing everything?—

My face, my scent, the sound of my voice.

I reach for the door, my hand trembling.

Then—

His voice. Low. Velvet-wrapped sin.

“You ever change your mind, angel…

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