Holiday Romance

Chapter 3: The Fire Still Burns

Isla Carter was doing her best to ignore the suffocating weight of Adrian’s presence, but it was impossible. Every stolen glance, every casual brush of his arm when they passed each other, sent a surge of unwanted emotions crashing over her. The past still clung to her like the humidity of the tropical resort, refusing to be ignored.

Seated at the elegant rehearsal dinner, Isla stabbed at her grilled salmon, pretending not to notice the way Adrian sat just a few seats away, laughing with the groomsmen. The sight of his easy confidence, the crinkle of his eyes when he laughed—it irritated her beyond reason.

Tessa leaned over and nudged her. "You’re glaring at him again."

"Am not," Isla said, a little too quickly.

Tessa smirked. "I know it’s hard to accept, but maybe you two still have... unresolved feelings."

Isla huffed. "Oh, they’re resolved. Perfectly. I resolved to never let him near my life again."

Before Tessa could reply, the clinking of a fork against a glass signaled the best man’s speech. Isla stiffened as Adrian stood up, his presence commanding the attention of the entire room.

"I’d like to propose a toast," Adrian began, his voice smooth and confident. "To Jake and Tessa, two people who remind us that love isn’t about perfection, but about finding someone who sees your flaws and sticks with you anyway."

Isla could feel his eyes on her. That last part—it felt personal, like it was meant just for her. She swallowed hard and took a long sip of her wine, determined not to react.

Adrian continued, sharing anecdotes about the groom, charming the crowd with his humor. Isla hated how effortlessly he could hold an audience in the palm of his hand. He had always been good at that—charming everyone but her when it really mattered.

As the applause filled the room, Isla pushed back from the table, needing air. She slipped out onto the balcony, the warm breeze kissing her skin as she closed her eyes and tried to calm her racing thoughts.

"Running away?" The deep voice sent a shiver down her spine.

She turned to find Adrian leaning casually against the railing, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"I needed air," she said coolly.

"Or an escape?" he countered.

She exhaled sharply, turning to face him. "What do you want, Adrian?"

He studied her for a long moment before speaking. "I don’t know. Maybe to finally have a real conversation. Without all the anger."

She laughed, but there was no humor in it. "After five years, now you want to talk?"

"It’s never been just five years between us, Isla. You know that."

His voice was softer now, his blue eyes searching hers. For a moment, she let herself remember—how it felt to love him, how it felt to be held by him.

But reality crashed down too quickly. "It doesn’t matter," she whispered, more to herself than to him.

He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body. "Doesn’t it?"

A gust of wind blew past them, carrying the scent of salt and memories. Isla’s heart pounded as she stared at the man who had once been her everything.

And she realized, with terrifying clarity, that the fire between them had never truly gone out.