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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Elle

As I open the door to our shared bedroom suite after a long day at work, a neat stack of beautifully wrapped gifts greets me, bundled together with a simple ribbon and a note tucked on top. The handwriting is unmistakably Seb’s, looping confidently across the card.

Maybe these are more to your taste. I didn’t want to wait until our wedding to make you smile.

I can’t help it – a smile spreads across my face, unbidden and infuriatingly warm. I trail my fingers over the stack of gifts, noticing each one has been lovingly wrapped.

The first one I open is a gorgeous cashmere cardigan, one of the softest I’ve ever felt, and a pair of super cute pale pink fluffy socks with candy canes and bows on them. I love them and pull them on right away.

Next is a box full of all my favourite sweet treats, including a stupid number of Kinder Eggs, which makes me laugh. I think it’s some of the best chocolate around, and the bars just don’t taste the same.

The final gift is a stunning leather satchel without a designer label in sight, which feels too heavy to be empty. Inside there’s some beautiful jasmine bath products – an oil and a candle I plan to use right away – and…

“Oh my goodness!”

A small stack of faded, second-hand romance novels with titles that could only come from the bodice-ripping heyday of paperback romance. He’s gone and found a collection of all my favorite tropes-feisty heroines, rakish dukes, forbidden love. A small, surprised laugh escapes me. I guess Seb managed to see the real me after all.

At the bottom of the bag there’s one more gift, a small plain white box a little larger than the palm of my hand.

Intrigued, I slip off the lid and laugh at the message that greets me.

So you don’t have to read one handed anymore.

Sebastian Sterling-Knight has bought me a vibrator!

It’s small, fitting into the palm of my hand, and a sleek ‘C’ shape. I know exactly what this is and how it works, thanks to Candy, and a blush heats my cheeks at the thought of Seb choosing this for me.

But before I get too overwhelmed dissecting that, my phone pings, buzzing relentlessly with notifications. Frowning, I pick it up, expecting to see maybe a text from Seb, but instead I’m hit with a flurry of alerts from a news app. I tap on one headline, and there it is, bold as day: Billionaire Heir Seen Scouring Charity Shops – Trouble with the Sterling-Knight Family?

I groan in exasperation, clicking through the article. Of course, they’ve twisted everything beyond recognition. Somehow, this little outing of his has spiraled into full-blown rumors. There’s even a picture of Seb walking out of some dusty little second-hand shop, carrying shopping bags and looking as nonchalant as ever. Apparently, his father is ‘dismayed’ by his ‘public association with bargain-bin bookshops’ and ‘concerning eccentricities.’ I snort. Eccentric? He bought me a stack of old paperbacks, not an alpaca farm.

There’s more, too – another article speculating on whether Seb’s gift was a grand romantic gesture for some mysterious girlfriend or side piece. Not once do they mention me, his fiancée. The gossip rags are practically foaming at the mouth, and all I can think is how Seb must be fuming.

A low, guilty pang tugs at my chest. I know he probably didn’t expect this fallout, and even if he did, he never intended for it to blow up like this. I quickly open our text thread and type out a message.

You okay? Looks like you’ve become tabloid fodder over some second-hand books. How’s your father handling it?

I hit send, half expecting Seb to take hours to reply. Instead, my phone pings almost instantly.

Seb

I’m fine. Father’s not thrilled, but what’s new? Did you like the books and other gifts?

I glance at the neat stack on my coffee table, the ribbon still tied neatly around them. For a moment, I imagine him wandering through that shop, sifting through countless titles just to find these. The thought warms me more than it should.

I loved them. You didn’t have to do that.

His reply is immediate.

Seb

I wanted to.

My chest tightens, and I don’t know how to respond. There’s a sincerity in his words that throws me off balance, so I settle for the safe route.

Thank you.

There’s no reply this time, and I don’t expect one. I set my phone down and turn my attention back to the books. Untying the ribbon, I pull the stack apart, letting my fingers glide over the soft, worn covers. Each one is perfect, from the familiar titles I used to adore, to the ones I haven’t read but already know I’ll love.

I find his note tucked beneath the stack. The handwriting is bold but precise, like everything Seb does.

For the nights when you need an escape.

The simple sentiment feels heavier than it should. I fold the note carefully and place it back on the table before I can let my emotions spiral.

Later, as I’m curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and one of the new books, my phone buzzes again. I expect it to be another headline notification, but it’s a message from Candy.

Candy

Dinner tomorrow? Wint is cooking, but I’ll make sure he saves you some.

Can’t. Alexander’s got me trapped in ‘wedding duty’.

Her reply comes with an eye-roll emoji.

Candy

Poor you. Want me to come rescue you?

I laugh softly, shaking my head.

Nah. Seb’s actually being...nice. Shockingly nice.

There’s a pause before her next message comes through.

Candy

Do I sense a thaw in the ice queen’s heart? ;)

Absolutely not.

Even as I type the words, I know they’re not entirely true. Seb’s gesture with the books, his thoughtfulness – it’s hard not to feel something, no matter how much I try to fight it.

Candy

Sure, babe. Keep telling yourself that.

I toss my phone onto the couch with a huff and sink deeper into my novel, but in the back of my mind, I’m wondering where Seb might be.

The following morning, I wake to find Seb standing by the door, looking freshly showered and unreasonably handsome in his crisp white shirt and dark trousers.

“Morning,” he says, holding out a small brown paper bag.

“What’s this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.

“Breakfast. Thought you’d like a change from the usual.”

I get out of bed and walk towards him. Taking the bag from him, I glance inside it and find a still-warm croissant and a small jar of cherry preserve. My heart does a ridiculous little flip, and I fail to keep my face neutral.

“Thank you,” I say, stepping aside.

As I set the bag on the coffee table, Seb leans casually against the doorframe, watching me. “Any plans today?”

I shrug. “Just the usual wedding stuff your father has lined up. Why?”

His lips curve into a small smile. “How about we ditch it? Take the day off?”

I blink, caught off guard. “You want to skip wedding planning? With the wedding only two days away?”

“Absolutely. One day won’t kill anyone,” he says, his tone light but with a hint of determination. “What do you say?”

For a moment, I hesitate. The thought of abandoning Alexander’s meticulously laid plans feels rebellious – and exhilarating.

“Alright,” I say finally. “Let’s do it.”

Seb’s grin widens, and it’s so genuine that I can’t help but smile back.

“Great,” he says. “Go get ready. I’ll take care of the rest.”

An hour later, I’m sitting in the passenger seat of another of Seb’s cars, wondering how many he has. He drives with an ease that feels almost casual. It’s strange, being here like this, without the weight of Alexander’s expectations pressing down on us.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

Seb glances over, a small, mischievous smile playing on his lips. “Patience, Elle. You’ll see soon enough.”

When he pulls into the car park of a retro bowling alley, I blink in surprise. The neon lights flicker brightly, casting a nostalgic glow over the building.

“Bowling?” I ask, incredulous.

“You said you wanted a break,” Seb replies, stepping out of the car. “This seemed...different. Fun. Like we spoke about before.”

I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me. “You’re full of surprises lately.”

“Good surprises, I hope,” he says, rounding the car to open my door. His hand extends to help me out, and I take it without thinking, the warmth of his palm against mine sending a flicker of something through me.

Inside, the bowling alley is delightfully tacky, with glowing lanes, blaring pop music, and the smell of fried food wafting from the snack bar. Seb pays for a lane and grabs two pairs of rental shoes, passing one to me.

I stare down at the scuffed, garishly coloured shoes with a smirk. “Not exactly Louboutins.”

Seb grins. “Think you can manage?”

“Watch me,” I say, sliding them on and standing to my full height. “I’ll have you know, I’m surprisingly competitive.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Seb says, his tone amused.

We make our way to the lane, and Seb sets up the scorecard on the screen, inputting our names with a flourish.

“Ladies first,” he says, handing me a bowling ball.

I raise a brow but take it, stepping up to the lane. The ball feels heavier than I remember, but I square my shoulders and focus on the pins ahead. With a deep breath, I send the ball rolling down the lane. It wobbles slightly, veering toward the gutter, before miraculously straightening out and knocking down a handful of pins.

“Not bad,” Seb says as I turn back to him, a triumphant grin on my face.

“Let’s see you do better,” I challenge.

Seb steps up, his movements smooth and deliberate as he picks up his ball. He bowls with the kind of precision that makes it clear he’s done this before, sending the ball straight down the middle for a strike.

I groan as he turns back to me, his smirk infuriatingly smug. “Beginner’s luck,” I mutter.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he says, his eyes glinting with amusement.

As the game progresses, the atmosphere between us shifts. It’s light, playful, free of the usual tension that seems to follow us everywhere. I laugh more than I have in weeks, and Seb...he seems different. Relaxed, almost boyish, his competitive streak tempered by an easy charm that’s hard to resist.

At one point, I manage a strike of my own, and he lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll admit it – you’re better than I thought.”

“Better than you,” I tease, sticking my tongue out at him.

Seb chuckles, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary. “Maybe.”

The game ends with him narrowly beating me, but I don’t mind. The whole experience has left me lighter, the weight of the last few days momentarily forgotten.

Afterward, we grab drinks and sit at one of the small tables near the snack bar. The overhead lights cast a soft glow, and the music hums in the background, creating a surprisingly intimate atmosphere.

“Thank you,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence.

Seb raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For this,” I say, gesturing around us. “For...getting me out of the house. For making me laugh. I didn’t realise how much I needed it.”

His expression softens, and for a moment, the teasing facade drops. “You’ve been under a lot of pressure,” he says. “I just wanted to give you a break. You deserve one. But you don’t have to keep thanking me for every little thing I do, Elle. I want to do these things. Have fun with you. Spoil you. I…I want you to know how much I care.”

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, and I look away, unsure how to respond.

“Elle,” he says softly, drawing my gaze back to him. “I know this whole situation isn’t easy for you. But I want you to know...I’m trying. For us.”

The way he says it – so earnest, so genuine – makes my chest tighten. I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

Seb leans back, a small smile playing on his lips. “Alright,” he says, his tone lightening. “Ready for a rematch?”

“Absolutely,” I say, my own smile creeping back as we get ready for another game. By the end, my face aches from smiling and I have a stitch from laughing so much. I can honestly say it’s one of the best dates I’ve ever been on.

On the drive back, the air between us feels different. Lighter, warmer, like the cracks in the walls we’ve built are finally starting to show. And as Seb pulls up to the mansion, I can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope – a small, fragile thing, but it’s there.

Two days. The wedding rehearsal dinner and then the big day itself. Two days to get through and survive.

I’ve got this.