Camila's POV
The car smelled like Anthony.
Not cologne—nothing sharp or intentional. Just him. Clean laundry, warm leather, something faintly familiar that made my chest ache before I could stop it.
I hadn't realized how much I missed this.
The quiet hum of the road. The way he drove with one hand resting loose at the bottom of the wheel, the other shifting gears like it was second nature. The late-afternoon light caught the lines of his jaw, the concentration in his eyes, and for a moment I forgot everything that had been weighing on me.
I leaned my head back against the seat and let myself feel safe.
"Still okay?" he asked, glancing over.
"Yeah," I said softly. "I am now."
The farther we drove, the quieter the world became. No traffic. No noise. Just wind through open windows and the steady rhythm of tires on pavement. It felt like slipping backward in time—like nothing had ever been complicated.
When we reached the beach, the sand stretched wide and untouched, the ocean glowing under the sinking sun. We didn't speak at first. We didn't need to.
Anthony kicked off his shoes and held a hand out to me. I took it, warmth blooming instantly at the contact.
We settled into the sand facing the water, the sky slowly bleeding from gold into soft pinks and deepening blues. After a moment, he shifted behind me, and I instinctively leaned back between his legs. His arms wrapped around me, solid and steady, pulling me into his chest.
I exhaled.
His chin rested lightly against my head. I could feel his breathing, calm and even, matching mine without effort.
"You're beautiful," he murmured—not performative, not hungry. Just truth.
I felt it in the way his arms tightened slightly, the way he didn't rush me.
Birds cried somewhere down the shoreline. The wind carried the sound of waves folding over themselves again and again. The world felt suspended—quiet in a way that only happens when nothing is asking anything of you.
When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, I turned slowly in his arms, nerves fluttering low in my stomach.
"Anthony?" I asked.
"Yeah?"
"Could I… could I have a kiss?"
The way he looked at me then—like I was something precious, like he couldn't believe I was real—made my throat tighten.
He nodded once. "Come here."
The kiss was deep but unhurried, his hands warm at my back as I melted into him, the tension I'd been carrying finally dissolving. I clung to his jacket, breathless, grounded by the solidity of him.
When we pulled back, he rested his forehead against mine.
"Listen," he whispered.
The ocean. The wind. The distant birds. The silence between waves.
"This," he said softly. "This is my favorite sound."
I smiled, eyes stinging, and stayed exactly where I was.
Later That Night
Julia's POV
We sat facing each other, no one pretending this was easy—but no one backing away either.
"I just want to start with this," I said. "I care about both of you. And I don't want anyone guessing where they stand."
Antwan nodded. Tyler shifted but stayed quiet.
"So," I continued, "we need to talk about what this actually looks like."
Antwan spoke first. "I'm not asking to own you," he said. "But I need to know what kind of relationship I'm in. Am I one of two separate partners—or part of something shared?"
Tyler rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't want to feel like I'm competing," he admitted. "Or like I only get pieces of you."
I took a breath. "Right now, I'm building two relationships. They're connected—but they're not the same."
Silence.
"That could change," I added gently. "Or it might not. I don't want to promise a shape I'm not sure we'll grow into."
Antwan considered that. "As long as we keep talking… I can live with that."
Tyler exhaled. "I don't love uncertainty," he said honestly. "But I'd rather face it than pretend I'm fine and end up resentful."
"That's all I'm asking," I said. "No pretending. No secrets. If jealousy shows up, we talk about it."
Tyler glanced at Antwan. "I'm not trying to replace you."
Antwan met his eyes. "I know."
For the first time, the tension didn't feel like a threat.
It felt like trust—unfinished, imperfect, but real.
Camila's POV
The bed and breakfast sat tucked behind a curve of trees, white porch lights glowing softly against the dark. A wooden sign swung gently in the sea breeze.
Sasha's.
It looked like something out of another time—quiet, unassuming, safe.
Anthony parked and turned to me. "You okay?"
"I just—" I hesitated, nerves creeping in. "I didn't pack anything. I didn't even know we were staying overnight."
A small smile tugged at his mouth. "I know."
I blinked. "Anthony."
He reached into the backseat and pulled out a duffel bag, setting it gently at my feet.
"I asked your mom to pack for you," he said calmly. "A few days ago."
My mouth fell open.
"You—what?"
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "This was supposed to be a reconciliation trip. I had it planned for next week. But after Kara showed up… and everything got twisted… I didn't want to wait."
I stared at him, overwhelmed.
"She gave her blessing," he added softly. "Said you deserved something peaceful."
My chest tightened.
Inside, Sasha's felt warm and welcoming—soft lamps, framed photos of the coastline, the faint smell of lavender and salt in the air. After we checked in, Anthony carried the bag upstairs like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Once inside the room, I pressed my lips together, suddenly emotional.
"I'm going to freshen up," I said quickly. "I'll be right back."
The bathroom door clicked shut behind me, and I leaned against the sink, exhaling hard.
Then I pulled out my phone.
Julia picked up on the second ring.
"You're alive," she said immediately. "I assume the sunset did its job?"
"You were part of this," I accused, though I was smiling now.
She laughed. "Guilty."
"You bought the underwear," I said.
"I bought the underwear," she confirmed proudly. "And the toiletries. Your mom handled the rest."
"How did you know, Julia churped "
"I have never seen those underwear in my life
They scream Julia "
I covered my mouth, laughing quietly. "I can't believe you."
"She literally blessed the trip," Julia added. "Said Anthony was a good boy and that you needed rest. I just helped… accessorize."
"You're terrible," I said fondly.
Julia lowered her voice. "So. You're staying the night. Ocean sounds. Fireplace. A man who worships you."
"Julia," I warned.
She snorted. "I'm just saying—let him take the stress away. You've earned it."
"Behave," I said, laughing. "Seriously."
"Fine," she said. "But I'm happy for you. You sound lighter."
I looked at my reflection—cheeks flushed, eyes softer than they'd been in days.
"I feel lighter," I admitted.
When I stepped back into the room, Anthony looked up from the window.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
I nodded, walking toward him. "Yeah. More than okay."
Outside, the ocean murmured endlessly, the wind whispering through the trees. Anthony opened his arms, and I stepped into them without hesitation, resting my head against his chest.
For the first time in a long while, nothing felt rushed.
Nothing felt uncertain.
Just quiet.
Just warmth.
Just him.