The Trouble With Us: A Second Chance Love Triangle (The Forbidden Love 2)

In a panic, my eyes move toward the hair slicked back into a ponytail. The shade is a different color, but that doesn’t stop the sudden heaviness which expands in my core, making everything extremely uncomfortable.

And then, after mumbling to herself, I see her completely freeze. The muscles in her arms tighten; beautiful tan arms I had kissed every inch of with my aching lips.

Then, her eyes snap up to meet my penetrating gaze.

Emerald-green.

Every single god damn emotion I’d suppressed over the years comes back like a tornado ready for destruction. My limbs fall heavy but not as weighted as the pressure inside my chest. I’m frozen on the spot, mesmerized by the beautiful woman standing in front of me.

She’s matured, perhaps thinned out a little on the face. Everything is exactly how I remember; the rose color of her lips, the shade of crimson in her cheeks when she’s flushed with excitement or anger.

The ivory blouse and gray skirt she wears are very sexy, as are the black pumps enhancing her long, lean legs. The same legs I’ve run my fingers along before throwing them over my shoulders.

Don’t think about her that way now. You’re only hurting yourself.

My expression doesn’t waver, neither pleased nor angered, unable to control the numb feeling now consuming me.

Mom breaks the momentary silence, but her words become distant to a haze of noise in the background as my thoughts become overwhelmed by this moment. I catch a piece of what she says, something about Amelia working here in the office and me being back for good.

And then Mom attempts to wrap up the so-called catch-up.

But we weren’t finished.

How can we forget about the diamond ring blinding me inside the room? It’s there on her finger, demanding attention.

Amelia speaks, telling Mom it’s fine. No animosity on her end. Of course not. She’s screwing some college kid and marrying him, all with Daddy’s approval, no doubt. Her life seems to be a bed of fucking roses.

“You forgot to mention the engagement of Lex Edwards’s eldest daughter?” I grit, struggling to compose myself from being completely blindsided.

Mom presses her lips tight into a slight grimace, warning me, before her phone rings which breaks the tension in the room. Amelia continues to sit in silence, eyeing her ring and probably thinking about how in love she is with the Carter kid. Each breath I take becomes more complex than the one proceeding, almost as if someone has their hands wrapped around my throat while attempting to strangle me.

The conversation comes to a complete dead end as Mom informs us she needs to take the call. In a fleeting moment, Amelia announces her departure and practically disappears from the room. Without a goodbye, without a single word.

I wasn’t sure what upset me most, that she ignored me, or acted as if we were nothing. Without saying goodbye to Mom, who appears distracted anyway, I exit the room taking large steps, only just managing to slide my hand in the elevator door for it to open again.

Amelia looks crestfallen as if she can’t imagine anything worse than being in an elevator with the man she once loved. I choose to keep my distance, despite the temptation to grab her face between my hands, pin her against the wall and make sweet love to her body as if it still belongs to me.

But her actions, the ring—it became a vicious cycle with my confidence. One minute I want her against the wall, the next I’m reminded of not being good enough to choose forever with.

Yet my ego can only take so much, so I fucking bite. “So, who is the lucky man?”

Her gaze lifts toward my unrelenting stare. Unlike her quiet demeanor inside the office, her eyes narrow with a hard expression.

“What does it matter?” she asks, angered by my question.

“Because we’re family, according to my mother,” I sneer, deliberately raising my eyebrows. “Surely, I would be owed the respect of knowing who the man is to steal the heart of Amelia Edwards?”

And then she says his name, which comes as no surprise since I already knew this. What I didn’t expect was the puncture to an already wounded heart—the inability to breathe normally, struggling to gasp for air but trying to show absolutely no emotion.

I should be used to this; I’ve mastered the art of a poker face—a much-needed trait when dealing with multi-million dollar contracts and bastards who try to manipulate decisions with their narcissism.

Then something awakens me; adrenaline rushes through my entire body, and this confined area becomes increasingly warm. I cross my arms, jutting my chin with a stiff smile.

“Austin, right. The love of your life. The high school sweetheart, correct?”

“So much for being amicable,” she mutters beneath her breath, crossing her arms in defiance. “None of it matters, Will. It’s been four years. Everyone has moved on, and your mom was right. We are family, so there’s no point dwelling on the past. All is forgotten.”

Everyone has moved on. How fucking lovely.