Page 6

Magnolia Steel

The estate resembles something lifted from the pages of Vogue Living with wrought-iron gates and a white stone drive that curves toward a Spanish-style villa glowing beneath warm lights. The fragrance of citrus trees in bloom wraps around us the second we step from the car.

Alex’s hand settles at the small of my back as we walk toward the entrance of Kye and Krishna’s home.

“You good, babe?”

I nod, even though my stomach is a mess of nerves. “Please don’t let me trip in these heels.”

He chuckles, leans down, and presses a kiss to my temple. “You’ve got this. You’re already the best-looking woman here.”

I roll my eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“Oh, but I do.”

God. This man.

Inside, the house is buzzing—music humming low, glasses clinking, polished laughter echoing off stone walls and high ceilings.

People move with an ease I don’t yet have, but I’m trying.

I smile when I should. I hold my clutch just so.

And I keep reminding myself that I belong here, because Alex says I do—and maybe I’m starting to believe it.

The wives have gathered near the long marble island in the enormous kitchen, drinks in hand, perfectly highlighted hair catching the light.

I brace—but then I hear it. “Magnolia!”

It’s Krishna, radiant in a wrap dress that does dangerous things for the baby bump she’s rocking. She pulls me into a warm hug, and the knot in my chest loosens.

“You are stunning,” she says, holding me at arm’s length. “Also, these earrings? Illegal.”

I reach up, fingers grazing the delicate gold-and-diamond earrings swaying below my jaw. “Alex surprised me with them tonight.”

Krishna grins, her eyes soft. “Wasn’t that sweet? I can’t imagine a more perfect way to start a marriage—with thoughtfulness and a little sparkle.”

Callie steps up next, her sleek ponytail swaying as she closes the distance, a flute of something sparkling in her hand. “There she is,” she says, her grin wide. “I was hoping I’d get to hear that accent again tonight.”

I smile, the tension in my shoulders softening. “You mean this old thing?”

She laughs. “Megan and I still talk about it. You could read off the catering menu and we’d be happy.”

“You’re so sweet.” I’m grateful for her warmth.

“Welcome to the Wives Club,” she says, raising her glass.

“Thanks. The transition is… a lot.”

Julia joins the circle, her drink in hand and not a trace of a baby bump. “I remember all too well. At least I had the long-term girlfriend phase to prep me for the wife part. You sort of dove into the deep end.”

I laugh. “Sink or swim, right?”

Julia pulls out her phone and taps her screen, turning it toward me. “Speaking of life changes… meet Brayden.”

The photo is of a dark-haired baby swaddled in navy, cheeks round and kissable, a tiny fist curled at his chin.

“Oh, Julia. He’s beautiful.”

“Born while you were in the States. He’s home with Mum tonight. I needed adult energy and clothes that don’t reek of spit-up.”

“You look beautiful. Motherhood suits you.”

“Thank you.”

Megan loops an arm through mine as though we’ve known each other for years. “C’mon, and join us, Magnolia. We’re trading war stories over here. Locker-room pranks, surprise schedule changes, who lost it during post-game interviews.”

For the first time tonight, I let myself laugh—really laugh.

I catch Alex across the room, chatting with a circle of teammates, his eyes flicking to mine, the smallest smile tugging at his mouth. And something clicks into place.

I didn’t expect to be so welcome here. Or this safe. But I am. And I think that’s the scariest and most beautiful part of all.

I glance down at my glass, now empty. “I’m going to sneak off for a refill—anyone else?”

A soft chorus rises.

“All good here.”

“Still working on mine.”

“Just got a fresh one.”

The soft buzz of conversation fades behind me as I make my way down the garden path, heels clicking against the flagstone, to where the bartender is set up by the pool.

Fairy lights hang like constellations overhead, casting a warm, romantic glow.

I pause beneath them, letting the quiet settle. Just a moment to breathe.

But I’m not alone.

“Magnolia.”

I turn—and there he is.

Tyson steps from the shadows. Crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled, calm face, dangerous smile. It’s the same one he used to wear when he was crossing a line and didn’t care.

“You look beautiful, Mags. But it should be me beside you tonight. Not him.”

Why is he here? Kye and Krishna wouldn’t have invited him.

My spine straightens and I’m flooded with dread. “Please don’t do this again. Not here. Not tonight.”

He takes a slow step toward me. “You think he knows you better than I do?”

I don’t even blink. “I think he doesn’t have to manipulate me to keep me.”

He opens his mouth, but I raise a hand to stop him before the lie can slip out. “I love Alex. And nothing you say will ever change that or make me want to be with you.”

The words hang there, clean and final. But Tyson doesn’t take the hint.

His jaw clenches. The smile vanishes.

“You’re only marrying him because you think it makes you safe. But that’s not love. That’s survival.”

My patience fractures. “That only proves how much you don’t know me. Because I’ve never needed a man to make me feel safe.”

“I know you, Mags.” His tone sharpens, pleading and accusing all at once. “You can pretend with him, wear the ring, play the perfect fiancée, but you remember what we had.”

“No,” I say. Cold. “I’ve told you over and over. Everything between us was a lie. And even if it hadn’t been, it pales compared to what I have with Alex.”

His eyes darken. “He will never love you the way I love you.”

“I believe that. Because the way you love—the way you cling to something that’s dead and gone—is not love. It’s control. And it’s dangerous. It scares the hell out of me.”

How do you reason with a man who’s rewritten the story in his head? Who’s flipped every page and scrawled his name across the ending as though he earned it?

I take a step back, eyes flicking toward the warm hum of conversation just a few yards away. Laughter floats beneath the twinkle of lights. Safety is so close.

Yet so far away.

“I’m done, Tyson. You don’t get to keep showing up in my life.”

I turn to walk away, and his fingers wrap around my wrist. Not hard. Not painful.

Controlling.

Possessive.

I freeze. My breath tangles in my throat.

“Let go of me,” I say, my voice low but sharp, meant only for his ears. I don’t want to draw attention or cause a scene.

His grip tightens, and my panic rises.

“Get your fucking hand off her.” Alex’s voice slices through the air—low, sharp, deadly. I turn, already knowing the fury I’ll find on his face.

And there it is––murderous calm.

His jaw locked. Eyes black with fury. Shoulders squared as if he’s seconds from detonating.

Tyson releases me, but it doesn’t matter. Alex is already closing the distance.

He grabs Tyson by the front of his shirt and slams him back a step, teeth clenched, trying to hold the rest of himself together. “You so much as breathe near her again, and I’ll end this for real.”

Tyson recovers, shoulders relaxing. “You should ask her what she hasn’t told you. Ask her what we were?—”

I shove myself between them, palms against Alex’s chest, pushing hard. “Stop. Please. This isn’t the place for this.”

He glares at Tyson, and I sense the resistance in him falter beneath my hands.

Tyson laughs—quiet and smug. “What, you afraid he’s gonna find out what we were?”

My spine stiffens and I meet his eyes, steady and unflinching.

“There are no secrets between Alex and me. He knows everything. I left nothing out because I knew this day would come. This was so predictable. You’re just living down to every expectation I had.

And somehow, I’m still disappointed in you. ”

He flinches, and something in his eyes shifts.

Alex breathes hard through his nose, jaw tight, twitching as he stares Tyson down.

I touch his arm, grounding him. My voice is soft. “I came here to meet the other wives and enjoy tonight, but he’s ruined that for me. Will you please take me home?”

Alex doesn’t take his eyes off Tyson as he answers. “You want to hurt me? Fine. Take your swings. But why can’t you see how much you’re hurting her in the process? You claim to love her, but all you do is hurt her.”

Tyson doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. The damage is already done.

Alex steps back, tucking me into his side as we turn away—leaving Tyson behind in the shadows where he belongs.

We say nothing as we walk out.

Alex’s arm remains wrapped around me protectively, but I feel exposed and seen in the worst possible light.

This party was supposed to be my debut into the wives’ club. Instead, I may’ve just become the next scandal.