Chapter 4 Velvet Knives
1292 Words
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## **Chapter: Velvet Knives**
Briar adjusted the neckline of her dress for the third time.
It wasn’t a glamorous dress—just a soft navy wrap that hugged her waist in a way she used to like. Understated. Effortless. But tonight, standing in the passenger seat of Ryder's car in front of his parents' house, it felt like she’d shown up in the wrong costume for the wrong play.
Too soft.
Too hopeful.
Too exposed.
Beside her, Ryder shifted the car into park and glanced over.
“You okay?” he asked.
She met his gaze in the dim dashboard light. “Do I look like I’m okay?”
He sighed, running a tired hand through his hair, the same way he always did when he didn’t have the words. “I told you we didn’t have to come.”
“And give Elaine another reason to say I’m avoiding the family?” she said, voice low but steady. “No, thanks.”
He looked like he wanted to argue—maybe even turn the car around—but thought better of it. Instead, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple. It was soft, polite. Almost rehearsed.
Not like before.
---
Inside, the Quinn family home smelled like garlic, rosemary, and memory.
It was the kind of scent that could trick you into thinking things were normal. But the warmth in the air was artificial—an illusion painted over the cold that still lived between the walls. Everything was polished, spotless, and staged.
Just like tonight.
Elaine Quinn greeted them with an air-kiss and a chilled glass of white wine already poured—her version of hospitality.
“I assumed you’d prefer something light,” she said, handing the glass to Briar with a small, satisfied smile.
“Thanks,” Briar replied, though she hadn’t asked for anything.
Patrick Quinn, Ryder’s father, nodded at her from the kitchen, stirring gravy with the quiet diligence of a man who stayed out of emotional minefields. He didn’t say much. He never did. But his eyes had always been kind—except now, even they looked tired.
Then came **Ellis**, Ryder’s younger brother, all rumpled charm and good-natured sarcasm.
“Hey, sis-in-law,” he said, pulling her into a quick, genuine hug. “You look good. Better than he does,” he added with a chin-nod toward Ryder.
Ryder chuckled under his breath, grateful for the brief distraction.
**Lena** was last to enter, slipping in through the back door with a half-lit cigarette and her phone still clutched in one hand. Her dark lipstick was smudged. Her smirk was not.
She took one look at Briar and mouthed: *You’re brave.*
Briar smiled—grateful, even if it was faint.
But the air changed when Elaine cleared her throat.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, her tone too casual. “I invited one more.”
And as if on cue, the front door opened.
Briar turned just in time to see **Rhea Maddox** step inside.
Her stomach dropped.
Ryder went still beside her.
“Rhea?” he asked, voice low.
Elaine answered for him. “She’s consulting on QuinnTech’s new campaign. I thought it would be nice to welcome her properly.”
“Of course you did,” Lena muttered, already reaching for another glass of wine.
Rhea removed her coat like she was unveiling a masterpiece. She wore cream silk and red-berry lipstick, her dark hair pulled into a sleek chignon. She looked like temptation dressed as respectability. Perfect posture, perfect smile, perfectly aware of every eye in the room.
“Briar,” she said, voice smooth as warm honey. “You look... comfortable.”
Ryder shifted beside her, but Briar gently touched his wrist.
“We’re fine,” she said, eyes locked on Rhea. “Let’s just eat.”
---
Dinner was a symphony of discomfort—clinking forks, forced laughter, and long silences that didn’t dare ask questions.
Ellis tried to keep the mood alive, recounting a stormy night spent on a wealthy client’s yacht.
“Rich people panic faster than toddlers,” he said, making Lena snort into her wine.
Patrick chuckled quietly. Even Ryder cracked a smile.
But Briar couldn’t relax.
Not with Rhea sitting directly across from her, daintily slicing roasted carrots like she hadn’t spent the last decade pretending to be the innocent bystander in a story she’d set on fire.
“I ran into an old friend the other day,” Rhea said casually, setting down her fork. “He asked if Ryder and I were still dating.”
The table froze.
Lena choked.
“You two never dated,” she said, eyes flat.
Rhea laughed—soft, measured. “Well, not officially. But you know how things blur in high school.”
Briar’s cheeks flushed, but her spine stayed straight.
“Some things become clearer than ever in hindsight.”
Rhea met her gaze across the table. “I suppose we all remember what we want to.”
Ryder stood abruptly, his chair scraping the floor. “I need air.”
He left without waiting for anyone to follow.
Patrick watched him go, brow furrowed. “You alright, Briar?”
“I’m fine. Just tired,” she said.
Elaine took another sip of her wine. “Marriage is tiring.”
“No,” Lena said, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Gaslighting is.”
Ellis choked on a laugh and tried to turn it into a cough.
“I don’t think this is helping,” Patrick murmured.
“I agree,” Briar said, setting down her napkin. “I think I’ll go find Ryder.”
But as she passed Rhea’s chair, the woman leaned in—barely moving her lips.
“You’re slipping,” she whispered. “He’s pulling away. Again.”
Briar stopped.
She bent down, her mouth close to Rhea’s ear. “If you think you can break me again, Rhea,” she said, her voice like a blade wrapped in silk, “you’re about ten years too late.”
Rhea blinked, caught off guard.
Then she smiled.
But Briar didn’t wait to see it.
---
Outside, Ryder stood on the porch, his hands braced on the railing, the backyard cloaked in darkness.
“She’s everywhere,” he muttered.
Briar joined him, the air crisp around them. “You didn’t know your mom invited her?”
He shook his head. “No. But maybe I should’ve seen it coming.”
“No,” Briar said. “The problem isn’t that she showed up. It’s that you didn’t tell her to leave.”
He turned toward her slowly.
And for the first time all night, he really looked at her.
“I’m tired, Briar.”
“So am I.”
“I don’t know how to make this work anymore.”
“Then say that,” she said, eyes wet but unbroken. “Don’t call me a burden. Don’t let women like Rhea speak for you.”
He dropped his gaze. “I never stopped loving you.”
“But is that enough?” she asked, voice trembling now. “Because love doesn’t look like this. It doesn’t feel like this.”
The silence between them yawned open—thick, endless, waiting for someone to close the distance.
But neither of them moved.
And for a moment, it felt like the past had caught up with them completely—dragging every unspoken word, every betrayal, every almost-apology to the surface.
Then Briar turned toward the door.
“I’m going to say goodbye to your family,” she said. “You can stay out here if you want.”
And she went back inside.
---
- Writer
