Anna
Of course, I had to call Emma and tell her everything. Within the hour, she was at my place, practically vibrating with curiosity.
We sat in the living room, and she leaned in like she couldn't wait another second.
"You're going to be super rich, Anna," she whispered, eyes gleaming.
"Keep your voice down," I hissed. "Simon's here."
"He won't hear us," she protested, waving me off.
"But seriously—I can't believe you're actually going through with this. You're getting married. That's still huge. And Oliver? He's insanely hot."
"I know, but it's not real. He has a girlfriend," I said, trying to sound unaffected. "It's just a quick marriage, then a quick divorce, and I'll have my own place. I'll have everything I've ever needed."
There was a clink of glass from the kitchen. I froze. My heart jumped into my throat.
I turned wide-eyed to Emma.
"Do you think he heard?" she whispered.
I slowly stood up and peeked toward the kitchen. Simon was leaning against the counter, arms crossed, his expression unreadable.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I'm just going to bed," he said.
"No—you were listening."
He pushed off the counter, jaw tight. "What are you getting yourself into with the trust-fund kid?"
"That's none of your business."
"It is when my tenant is lying and being deceitful."
"Excuse me?" I snapped. "It's not illegal. I'm helping him out, and it benefits me, too. You should be thrilled—I'll be out of your hair sooner than you probably want me to be."
"I don't—" He cut himself off, eyes narrowing. "That's beside the point. Jack told me you were a nice girl, and now I hear this? Lying, manipulation—"
His words stung. They weren't fair.
"I am a nice person," I said, voice trembling. "I've just... I've had a really shitty hand in life, okay? I'm just trying to find something that feels like safety. That's all I want—to feel safe."
His arms dropped to his sides. His expression shifted like he'd just lost a fight he didn't even know he was in.
"Feel safe?" he asked, voice suddenly softer.
I swallowed hard. "Goodnight, Simon."
I turned and walked out of the kitchen, holding my breath. I nod to Emma to follow me to my room, Once I shut the door to my room, the tears came fast. He didn't understand—how could he? He didn't know what it was like to have no one. No home. No security.
Simon
I woke at 5:30am and went for a jog, hoping to clear my head. It had the opposite effect.
All I could think about were the tears in Anna's eyes last night—when she said she just wanted to feel safe. Safe.
Jack had told me a little about her. No parents. No stability. Of course she craved security. Of course she wanted to feel like she belonged somewhere. I felt like an absolute dick.
I understood her motive. I didn't agree with it, but I understood.
The idea of her marrying some guy she barely knew—some privileged trust-fund brat—rattled me more than I wanted to admit. It got under my skin, deep.
As I rounded the corner of the block and headed back toward the house, I spotted her coming down the front steps. Her eyes met mine for a second, and in that instant, she missed a step.
She stumbled, then fell hard—knees first—onto the rocky gravel.
"Anna!" I shouted, rushing toward her.
She winced, trying to push herself up. "I'm fine," she said quickly, but her voice wavered.
I crouched beside her, one arm sliding around her small waist, the other taking her hand. Her hand fit perfectly in mine—smaller, delicate.
She grunted softly, and I helped her up.
"Thanks," she murmured, eyes meeting mine briefly.
I reluctantly let go, glancing down at her knee. It was scraped badly, red and already swelling.
"Sit down," I said, pointing to the step. "Don't move."
I ran inside and grabbed the first aid kit.
Her knee was bleeding, not badly, but enough to sting. I knelt again in front of her and cleaned the wound carefully.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, not looking up.
"For yesterday. I... I get it. I don't agree, but I get it."
She gave me a small, tight smile. "It's okay. You don't really know me."
"I know enough to know you're not a bad person," I said, finally looking at her. "You're kind. Thoughtful..." My eyes scanned her face, and before I could stop myself, I whispered, "...and beautiful."
Her eyes dropped to my lips, slightly parted. My hand moved without permission, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. My fingertips traced down the side of her neck, and I felt her pulse racing beneath my touch.
She swallowed and whispered, "Simon..."
Something in me snapped. Reality hit.
I pulled back fast.
"You're all good," I said abruptly, standing up. "I'm gonna get cleaned up."
I turned and walked away, heart pounding in my chest. Once in my room, I dragged a hand through my hair, frustrated. I'd lost control for a moment. Every fiber in my body wanted to kiss her. To claim her.
I needed space.
While she was still in her room, I left the house. I'd forgotten I had a date with Lucy.
I stopped at the florist down the road. I didn't know why—maybe out of guilt, maybe out of habit—but I picked out flowers for her.
I'd known Lucy for years. She was easy. Familiar. The kind of woman I should want.
But as I stood there holding a bouquet of roses, all I could think about was Anna.
Lucy stepped out of her apartment wearing a fitted green dress that hugged her figure. Her hair was pinned up, soft tendrils framing her face, and her makeup was light, subtle.
I'd never seen her like this before. She looked… nice. Really nice.
"Hey, Si," she greeted, flashing me a wide smile. Her eyes lit up as she spotted the flowers in my hand. "Are these for me?"
"Ye—yes, of course," I said, snapping out of my thoughts and handing them to her.
"They're beautiful," she said, leaning in and pressing a kiss to my cheek.
I suddenly felt hot under the collar. Normally, a kiss like that from a woman like Lucy would make you feel flattered—or at least look forward to more. But for some reason, it had the opposite effect.
I felt awkward. Uneasy.
I forced a smile and opened the door for her, ushering her into my truck.
The drive to the restaurant was filled with Lucy's chatter—about work, people from our old squad, mutual friends. I nodded along, smiled in the right places. But my mind kept drifting.
The dinner was... fine. Comfortable. Safe. We'd known each other for years, so the conversation was easy, predictable. There wasn't much she could say that I didn't already know. No surprises. No sparks.
When the date ended, I drove her back to her place.
She turned to me just as I shifted the gear into park. "I had fun tonight," she said, smiling up at me.
"Me too," I replied, though it didn't sound convincing even to me. Something about it felt off—like I was going through the motions.
And then, I knew it was coming. The kiss.
The way her eyes sparkled, the slight lean forward—I could see it written all over her.
Before I had a chance to decide if I was going to go for it, she closed the gap and pressed her lips to mine.
I stumbled slightly, caught off guard, and instinctively reached out to steady both of us.
She pulled back with a soft smile.
"Goodnight, Simon," she said sweetly.
"Good night," I replied, watching as she disappeared into the building.
I sat there for a moment, gripping the steering wheel, unsure why I felt like I had just done something wrong.