The city slid by in streaks of gold and violet, shop windows glowing against the deepening dusk. Isla rested her cheek against the cool glass, watching neon signs flicker to life, their reflections spilling across the car's polished interior. Her pulse had finally steadied, but her thoughts hadn't.
When she'd called Tyler last night—well, technically when he called her first—she hadn't expected the conversation to end the way it did. She'd been sitting on the edge of her bed, rehearsing what to say, when his name lit up her screen. The greeting had been awkward, brittle in places. She'd almost lost her nerve—until Callie's voice echoed in her head, sharp and certain: Take him with you, Isla. So she did. Or tried to, at least. Her question slipped out before she could second-guess it: There's an event tomorrow... would you come with me?
She'd braced herself for excuses, for the familiar hesitation that had shadowed them lately. Instead, he'd said yes. Just like that. No pushback, no clipped questions—only a quiet I'll be there. The kind of answer that sounded too easy, like something waiting to crack.
Now they were headed to the same place, just not in the same car. Tyler had insisted on driving his, and Isla hadn't argued. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that the distance wasn't just on the road.
Her gaze drifted sideways. Cael sat poised as ever, the soft light gilding the edges of his sharp profile. He didn't look rattled—not in the slightest. If anything, he seemed entirely at ease, like chauffeuring women with boyfriends to royal events was just another Saturday for him. The thought made guilt curl low in her stomach.
She drew in a breath. "About earlier... I didn't plan for things to feel that tense."
His head tipped slightly, eyes cutting toward her. There was no forced smile, no easy dismissal—just a quiet acknowledgment, the kind that made it harder to meet his gaze.
"It's fine," he said after a beat. "Seems your boyfriend doesn't think much of me."
Isla winced. "It's not that. He just—"
"I know." The corner of his mouth lifted, not quite a smile, but enough to suggest he wasn't wounded—just observant. "Sorry if I put you in a rough spot with the gift."
Her fingers knotted in her lap. "You were being thoughtful. I just... didn't want it to make things worse."
"Did it?"
The question hung there, light but pointed. Isla didn't answer right away, only let her eyes drift to the blur of shop lights streaking past her window. The hum of the engine filled the space between them.
Then his voice softened, threaded with something almost playful. "You know, it's still yours. If you happen to change your mind."
Her eyes flicked toward him, enough for him to catch.
He went on before she could reply. "But can't lie though..." his gaze dipped briefly over the midnight-blue chiffon, then returned to her face, "you look beautiful in this."
The words snagged her for half a second. She managed a small laugh, quick and easy, like it didn't matter. "You always know what to say, don't you?"
His mouth curved, almost like a secret. "Only when it's true."
The car slowed to a stop, the muted hum of music spilling from the building ahead. Isla blinked, taking in the glow of soft lights against polished stone, the sweep of tall windows catching the last of the evening sky. Elegant, yes. Small? Not even close.
Her lips curved, dry amusement threading her tone. "Your definition of small is... interesting."
Cael's grin tilted, easy and unapologetic. "If I'd said 'fancy,' you would've bailed."
Before she could fire back, he was already at her side, opening the door with the same calm precision as everything he did. His hand lingered just long enough to steady her as she stepped out, the chiffon of her dress brushing against her knees as cool night air curled around her.
"Smart play," she muttered under her breath.
Worked, didn't it?" His voice was low, threaded with quiet confidence as he handed the keys to the waiting valet and slipped his hands into his pockets.
She barely had time to take it all in—the glow spilling from tall glass doors, the muted hum of conversation drifting out—before the sound of tires cut through the evening. Another car slowed to a stop behind them. Tyler's.
The click of his door opening, the quiet thud as it shut. His footsteps approached, unhurried but firm. A hand, warm and familiar, brushed the small of her back.
"Ready?" His voice was calm, almost casual, but it left no room for question. He didn't glance at Cael, only kept his eyes on her.
"Yeah." The word came easy enough, though the space between the three of them felt anything but.
And just like that, the night felt sharper, edged with something none of them said.