Author's Preface
[Cont.]
[Annie]
The five-hour drive to Velora begins under a gray, overcast dawn.
Oliver keeps one hand on the steering wheel of his SUV, his thumb tapping a steady beat against the leather as a podcast hums softly through the speakers.
Beside him, I lean my head against the cold window, watching the suburbs give way to long stretches of pine trees and winding highway.
"I was looking at the calendar for next spring," Oliver says, his voice cutting through the hum of the engine.
"My firm offers a sabbatical option after five years. I was thinking we could take a few weeks and head up toward the coast. You could easily work remotely on your brand campaigns—your marketing decks don't require you to be physically in the building every single day."
I reach for my water bottle, unscrewing the cap slowly to buy a moment. "Spring is usually our heaviest client pitch cycle at SilverOak, Oliver. I can't just take off and run marketing launches from a beach house."
"Well, campaigns can be delegated," he replies, giving me a quick, warm side-glance before focusing back on the road. "Besides, by next year, your standing at the firm will be solid enough. We could start looking at proper two-bedroom places in the city, too. Somewhere closer to my office. We could probably sign by April."
He moves on to square footage and neighborhood parking, adjusting the air conditioning as he talks.
I look out at the passing trees, my fingers tracing the seam of my jeans.
I think back to a rainy night weeks ago.
Kai and I had been travelling back from the financial district.
He hadn't talked about where we'd be next year or how to clear my schedule.
He had just adjusted the dashboard heater toward my side, kept his eyes on the slick asphalt, and passed me a warm cup of coffee at a red light without saying a word.
"Annie? You listening?" Oliver's hand reaches across the center console, resting over mine.
"I said the turnoff is just a mile ahead."
"Sorry," I pull my hand away gently under the guise of unlocking my phone screen. "Just checking if the marketing team needs anything before the weekend."
[ *** ]
The SUV turns off the main road, passing through a heavy stone gate that leads into The Pine Crest Estate.
The resort is secluded, surrounded by a thick belt of blue pines and rising mist.
The main lodge sits high on a grassy slope, surrounded by manicured lawns and private trailheads that disappear into the forest ridge above.
Oliver parks on the crushed gravel, stepping out to pull our bags from the trunk as a couple walks down the wide timber steps of the porch to meet us.
"Oliver! You made it," the man calls out, stepping forward for a quick handshake before turning to me. "And you must be Annie. I'm Evan, and this is Sarah. Welcome."
"It's great to meet you both," I say, offering a polite smile.
"We’re so glad you could make it," Sarah says, her eyes giving me a quick once-over. "We wanted something small for our anniversary, so we booked out the entire estate. Just six couples in total—no outside guests, just close friends."
We follow them into the quiet, wood-paneled lobby, where the front desk clerk hands Evan a heavy brass key.
"Suite four for you two," Sarah says, handing the key tag over to Oliver with a light smile. "It's on the top floor, with a beautiful view of the grounds."
I pause, looking between Oliver and Sarah. "Oh—is there an adjacent room available on the same floor? Oliver mentioned we might have separate arrangements."
The receptionist gives me a practiced smile.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. We only have six suites on the property, and all six are fully occupied by Mr. Evan's party."
Sarah exchanges a brief, quiet look with Evan, a subtle smirk touching the corner of her lips before it disappears. "It’s our executive suite, Annie. A king bed, private sitting area—you’ll have plenty of space."
Oliver rubs the back of his neck, looking mildly embarrassed. "Right. Thanks, Sarah. We'll take the bags up."
[ *** ]
The door to Suite 4 shuts with a dull thud, sealing us into a warm, wood-beamed room dominated by a massive king-sized bed in the center of the floor.
"You said you booked separate rooms," I say, setting my duffel bag down by the wardrobe.
Oliver turns, holding his hands up defensively. "Annie, I swear I asked Mark for two rooms when he first brought up the trip. He must have consolidated the booking when he finalized the headcount. I honestly didn't know."
"They were smirking, Oliver."
"Evan has a weird sense of humor," Oliver says quickly, stepping closer. "Look, I'm not going to make you uncomfortable. The lounge sofa over there is huge, or I can ask the desk for extra bedding. I'll take the sofa. I promise."
I look at the deep leather couch against the wall, then back at his earnest, apologetic face.
Exhaustion from the long drive and the upcoming evening is already settling into my shoulders.
"Fine," I say softly, unzipping my bag. "The sofa is yours."
[ *** ]
By seven, the sky turns a deep, bruised violet over the mountain ridge.
Warm bistro lights strung across the estate lawn cast a golden glow over the grass, where servers float around carrying trays of wine.
I step down the stone terrace stairs wearing a fluid, pastel pink silk-satin dress that catches the night breeze, my heels clicking softly against the flagstones.
Oliver meets me at the bottom, his eyes brightening instantly.
He slides a firm, possessive hand onto the small of my back, drawing me into the group gathered near the outdoor bar.
"Everyone, this is Annie," Oliver says, his voice carrying that familiar edge of pride. "She leads brand strategy at SilverOak."
"Impressive," one of his former classmates notes, tipping a glass toward me.
"Oliver!" A bright voice cuts through the background music.
A woman in an emerald silk gown steps toward us, holding two glasses of white wine.
"Lily," Oliver smiles, stepping forward to exchange a light cheek kiss.
He turns to me, gesturing loosely toward her. "Annie, this is Lily—an old acquaintance from back in the day. It's been a while."
"Too long," Lily smiles, turning her attention to me. "And you must be Annie. Oliver's talked about you, but it's so nice to finally put a face to the name."
"Where's your guy?" Oliver asks, looking around the lawn. "I thought he drove up with you."
"He was finishing a call in the library," Lily says, turning toward the stone path leading from the main lodge. "Oh, there he is. James! Over here!"
I turn casually, holding my wine glass by the stem.
My chest goes hollow.
Walking across the grass in a dark, tailored suit is James.
His eyes meet mine the moment he clears the terrace steps.
He doesn't break stride, but the look in his eyes leaves me struggling to breathe.
"James, come meet Oliver and Annie," Lily says warmly, reaching out to loop her arm through his as he joins the circle.
"Good to see you, man," Oliver says cheerfully, extending his hand.
"Oliver," James says.
His voice is low and steady—a voice I used to know better than my own.
He shakes Oliver's hand smoothly, but his eyes stay on my face.
"And this is Annie," Oliver adds, entirely oblivious to the tension between us.
"Pleasure," James says softly.
I manage a tiny, rigid nod, my throat locked too tight to produce a sound.
I know that slight shift in his shoulders.
Oliver pulls me slightly closer to his side, his arm heavy around my waist, completely blind to the ghost standing three feet in front of us.
As we stand there in the circle, my gaze involuntarily sweeps over Lily.
She is striking, carrying herself with an effortless grace.
Tall and slender like me, with the same pale complexion, but her wild curls are the complete opposite of my straight, pinned-back hair.
Looking at her beside James, I finally understand.
This is the woman James is with.
My mind rewinds back to weeks ago, replaying our chance meeting at Lawson & Burke.
I remember the raw, haunted edge in James’ voice that day.
I remember the exact way he had muttered under his breath that he had missed me.
A cold shiver runs down my spine.
Why did he say that?
Why would a man who has someone like Lily look at me with such desperation and whisper that he missed me?
Or is she completely in the dark about us?
The confusion lingers painfully as the initial shock slowly turns into a maze of unsettling questions.
[ *** ]
Throughout dinner, the evening moves in a surreal blur of clinking glasses and light laughter.
Every time I try to focus on Oliver's conversation, I notice James across from us.
Even when Lily is talking to someone else, I can feel his attention on me.
Later, as the air grows colder, Evan drags a circle of cushioned chairs onto the grass, placing an empty wine bottle in the center.
"Anniversary tradition!" Evan calls out. "Truth or Dare. No passes."
We form a tight ring under the warm hanging lights.
I sit between Oliver and Sarah.
Directly across from me, sitting right in my line of sight, is James, with Lily resting her hand on his knee.
Evan spins the bottle.
It whirls over the grass, slowing until it points straight at James.
"Alright, James," Dave laughs. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth," James says quietly.
Dave leans forward with a sly grin.
"Simple one: Have you finally found the love of your life, or are you still as closed-off as you were in the city?"
A light laugh goes through the group.
James doesn't join in.
His eyes shift slowly away from Dave, moving across the narrow gap between us until they rest on my face.
For one long second, he holds my gaze without a single trace of hesitation before turning toward Lily.
"Yes," James says, his voice quiet, absolute, and clear. "I found her a long time ago."
Lily beams, pulling his face down to press a kiss to his cheek as the circle cheers.
My hands tremble in my lap.
I am the only person in that circle who knows exactly who he was looking at when he said it.
The bottle spins and lands on Mia, who chooses dare and breaks into a dance.
The crowd erupts in loud cheers and whistles, with laughter everywhere.
Then later, after Dave cracks an unfunny dad joke as a dare, Lily reaches down and spins the bottle next.
It blurs across the grass, slowing until it points directly at me.
"Annie!" Lily calls out playfully. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth," I say, clearing my dry throat.
Lily rests her chin in her hand, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Is Oliver your exact type, or did he just wear you down until you said yes?"
Laughter ripples through the group.
"Oh, well, we haven't been dating for that long, so—" I begin, trying to laugh it off.
"No diplomatic answers!" Evan chimes in.
Beside me, Oliver sits up straighter, looking at me expectantly in front of his entire old network.
There's no way to answer honestly without humiliating him in front of everyone.
"Yes," I force a soft smile, looking at Oliver. "He's... my type."
The group claps, and Oliver beams, squeezing my fingers tightly.
I look up and find James watching me.
His fingers curl once against his knee, so briefly that no one else seems to notice.
I know he doesn't buy my smile.
He reads the lie, the hesitation, and the forced compliance written across my face instantly.
Oliver reaches down, grabbing the neck of the bottle. "My turn."
He gives it a hard twist.
The glass spins rapidly before settling on Oliver himself.
"Ooh, caught by your own spin!" Sarah laughs. "Truth or dare, Oliver?"
"Dare," Oliver says comfortably.
Dave grins. "I dare you to give your new girlfriend a real kiss right now. None of those polite cheek pecks."
I tense at the suggestion.
"No, really, it's fine—" I blurt out quickly, pulling back slightly.
"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" The group begins chanting, clapping in rhythm.
I look at Oliver, waiting for him to laugh it off and protect me from the display.
Instead, he turns to me, a flushed, eager look in his eyes.
I watch in horror as he reaches out, his hand cupping my jaw to turn my face toward his.
"Oliver, wait—" I whisper under my breath.
He leans in and presses his lips firmly against mine.
I freeze, my entire body going rigid under his touch as the cheers echo around the lawn.
Over Oliver's shoulder, my eyes stay open—locking directly onto James.
He doesn't move.
His hands remain flat against his knees, his expression giving nothing away.
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