SCARLETT
The hotel was obscene.
That was the only word for it. White stone and glass rising directly from the coastline, the Mediterranean spread out below it like something from a painting that didn't exist in real life. Our suite had a private terrace overlooking the water and I stood on it for a full minute after arrival just breathing.
"Close your mouth darling," mom said behind me, unwrapping scarves from her luggage with practiced efficiency. "We're supposed to look like we belong here."
"Do we?" I asked.
"Simon does," she said simply. "So we do."
I looked out at the water and didn't respond to that.
Our rooms were on the same floor, Simon and mom in the corner suite, Ethan in a standard room three doors down because that was the arrangement, and me in between. Geographically
