Page 58 of Beautifully Messy
“Sydney? Are you alright?” Margaret’s gentle voice breaks through my haze.
I force a smile onto my face, praying it appears genuine. “Of course, something caught in my throat. Congratulations. That’s… that’s wonderful news.”
Even as I say it, a hollowness spreads beneath my ribs where something vital used to be.
I glance at James, helplessly drawn to him like a moth too dumb to know better. Our eyes meet for the briefest of seconds. While his face remains carefully composed, indifferent even, his eyes tell another story. Sadness flashes before he looks away, out the windows.
But maybe it’s only my desperation reflected at me.
Jules wraps an arm around my back and leans her head on my shoulder. Her solid strength keeps me upright. I stand there staring at him, at Ivy, until my eyes sting with tears.
“I need to change Anna.”
Once safely upstairs, hidden in the quiet sanctuary of our room, I hold Anna close, pressing my lips against her soft curls. I flip the lock on the door, sealing myself away from the world and Mason.
Great, gasping sobs shudder through me, filling the room, filtering out to the bright sky. Anna looks up, her small hand brushing my cheek.
“It’s okay. I’m okay, Bug.”
Every day since I made the choice I did last year, I’ve wondered if it was the right one. Every time I swallowed a retort to one of Mason’s sharp comments. Every time he asked me to put on a pretty dress and play the role of the perfect D.C. wife. Every time I said staying was what was best for Anna. Every night I dreamed of something else.
And now, James has made his choice too.
***
Itakemytimedressing for dinner.
Because now my despair is wrapped in anger—simmering low and sharp, waiting for a target. And tonight, I know exactly where to aim. Standing before the mirror, I smooth my hands over the short black skirt hugging my hips and the oversized sweater that drapes just so. Knee-high boots complete the look.
The moment my boots hit the stairs, I feelhimwatching. A pull as strong as gravity. I don't falter or show an ounce of emotion. My chin stays high, smile wide, and eyes crisp as the thick line of eyeliner.
Reaching for Mason, I let my hand trail along his arm, resting it lightly on his leg. If he’s surprised by the sudden intimacy, he doesn’t let it show. His eyes stay on his phone, thumb continuing to scroll.
I smile—soft and practiced—as I greet everyone, deliberately avoiding James, who sits beside Ivy, her hand absentmindedly stroking the back of his neck. But I feel his attention like a touch, tracking my every move. When I finally let myself acknowledge him with a curt hello, his eyes drop to his plate, and he shrugs Ivy’s hand off his neck.
My hand drifts higher on Mason’s thigh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. His eyes finally lift from his phone. Leaning in, he asks, “Is that skirt appropriate for dinner?”
I close my eyes, summoning every last reserve I have, and let the performance continue.
Ivy is deep in conversation with Margaret, but her gaze drifts to the ring. She lifts her hand, caught in its shine. I know they’re talking about the wedding. James stares at his plate, his fork pushing food around without actually eating. Ivy places a hand on his arm, trying to draw him back in. He mumbles a reply I can’t hear.
Whatever it is, he’s not the excited fiancé you’d expect to find, and—horrible as it is—that makes me smile.
“Syd.” Jules watches me, one brow arched. “You’re setting the bar pretty high for casual cabin dinners.”
“Oh, this old thing?”
The words fall out light and playful, part of the character I’ve slipped into tonight: the glowing, unbothered wife, a woman so thoroughly satisfied in her marriage, she couldn’t possibly be coveting her sister-in-law’s fiancé.
“What’s that old saying? Pride goes before the fall?” Jules leans back, eyes narrowing.
A hush falls as the others watch with rapt attention, trying to decode what she means. Heat prickles at the back of my neck, but I hold my smile.
“Actually, Jules, you’re the one who said I didn’t need anyone else to make me feel good.” My smile sharpens. “And I feel so damn good right now.”
She scoffs and whispers something to Tom.
Mason leans in, his voice intimate yet loud enough for the others to hear. “You do look beautiful tonight, Syd. Should we blow off dinner and head upstairs?”
