1
American Beauty
Alex and Magnolia 1 (Beauty Series Book 5)
MAGNOLIA STEEL
The wheels hit the tarmac with a jolt, and my stomach lurches—not from the landing but from the weight of reality settling in.
Home.
Charleston’s city lights stretch beyond the runway, welcoming me back, yet nothing about this place is the same.
I reach for my phone, turn off airplane mode, and check the time in Sydney. It’s the middle of the night. I’m sure Alex is deep asleep, wrapped in sheets that still smell like me.
My chest tightens because I already miss him so much.
I pull up our text thread, hovering over the keyboard. What should I say?
Hey, I just landed, and it already feels wrong without you?
Hope you’re sleeping well. Meanwhile, I’m awake, wishing I was still in your arms?
No. Simple, but honest, is the better choice.
Home.
Charleston’s city lights stretch beyond the runway, welcoming me back, yet nothing about this place is the same.
I reach for my phone, turn off airplane mode, and check the time in Sydney. It’s the middle of the night. I’m sure Alex is deep asleep, wrapped in sheets that still smell like me.
My chest tightens because I already miss him so much.
I pull up our text thread, hovering over the keyboard. What should I say?
Hey, I just landed, and it already feels wrong without you?
Hope you’re sleeping well. Meanwhile, I’m awake, wishing I was still in your arms?
No. Simple, but honest, is the better choice.
Just landed in Charleston. I love you, big guy. I can’t believe how much I already miss you.
We’ll talk later. Sweet dreams. 😘❤️
I hit send. The message delivers instantly––and as expected––the read notification doesn’t appear, no typing bubble. Only a nine-thousand-mile silence.
I exhale, tilting my head back against the seat. Two days ago, I was curled against his chest, memorizing the rise and fall of his breathing, swearing I’d never forget the way he felt beneath my fingertips. And now I’m here. Back in Charleston. Back to reality.
A voice crackles over the intercom, welcoming us to Charleston. Around me, passengers unbuckle their seat belts, stretching and collecting their belongings. The woman beside me lets out an exhausted sigh before reaching for the overhead bin.
Time to move.
I tuck my phone into my bag and push to my feet, bracing myself for whatever waits beyond the gate.
Baggage claim is a madhouse. People hover around the carousel like vultures, ready to pounce the moment their suitcase makes an appearance. I maneuver through the chaos, scanning the crowd for Violet.
And then I spot her.
Correction: I spot a six-foot inflatable T. rex waving its tiny, useless arms in my direction.
Oh, for the love of--
I stop mid-step, eyes widening as I take in the full spectacle. Violet stands proudly, her ridiculous dinosaur costume inflating and deflating slightly with every movement. In one of her clawed tiny hands, she holds a massive sign that reads the following:
I exhale, tilting my head back against the seat. Two days ago, I was curled against his chest, memorizing the rise and fall of his breathing, swearing I’d never forget the way he felt beneath my fingertips. And now I’m here. Back in Charleston. Back to reality.
A voice crackles over the intercom, welcoming us to Charleston. Around me, passengers unbuckle their seat belts, stretching and collecting their belongings. The woman beside me lets out an exhausted sigh before reaching for the overhead bin.
Time to move.
I tuck my phone into my bag and push to my feet, bracing myself for whatever waits beyond the gate.
Baggage claim is a madhouse. People hover around the carousel like vultures, ready to pounce the moment their suitcase makes an appearance. I maneuver through the chaos, scanning the crowd for Violet.
And then I spot her.
Correction: I spot a six-foot inflatable T. rex waving its tiny, useless arms in my direction.
Oh, for the love of--
I stop mid-step, eyes widening as I take in the full spectacle. Violet stands proudly, her ridiculous dinosaur costume inflating and deflating slightly with every movement. In one of her clawed tiny hands, she holds a massive sign that reads the following:
CUSTOMS CHECK: DECLARE YOUR REGRETS AND BAD DECISIONS HERE
Unrefined laughter, impossible to contain, bursts from my chest. People around me gawk, some chuckling. Others pull out their phones because my best friend has made herself an airport attraction.
God, I missed that menace in mascara.
“Violet,” I call, shaking my head.
She gasps as if she didn’t see me coming and throws her little T. rex arms in the air, running at me.
Well… as much as one can run in a giant inflatable dinosaur suit.
“Oh my God, Mags!” Her voice is muffled by the costume. “Is that you? Have you come to declare your regrets and bad decisions?”
I plant a hand on my hip. “You do realize this is embarrassing, right?”
“Duh.” She wiggles her tiny dino claws. “I knew you’d be sad, so I’m distracting you with my utter lack of shame.”
And there it is. The reason behind the absurdity. She knew I’d barely be holding it together.
That’s Violet. She’s never been the hug you while you cry type. No, she’s the dress up as a prehistoric creature in a crowded airport to make you laugh type.
Emotion knots in my throat, but I swallow it down and go to her, wrapping my arms around the big dumb dinosaur that is my best friend.
“God, I missed you, you damn freak.”
Violet makes a sniffing sound. “I missed you too, Mags. And I hope you know that no other arrival at this airport tonight is getting this level of fanfare.”
“I would be concerned if they were.”
She pulls back, placing her clawed hands on my shoulders like she’s about to drop some wisdom. “Now, I’ll help you grab your bags, but first, I must ask—do you have anything to declare?” She gestures to her sign.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Only… sadness. It was hard to leave him.”
Violet nods. “I know. That’s why I’m going to shower you with unconditional love and endless entertainment.”
I smirk. “Starting with a dinosaur suit?”
“Obviously.” She gestures grandly. “Now, let’s grab your luggage and get out of here before someone asks me to take a picture with their kid.”
Violet stops mid-waddle, her inflatable tail nearly taking out a passing traveler. She spins to face me, her dinosaur head bobbing. “Wait a second. Where are the others?”
“Oh yeah. We missed our connection in L.A., so the airline had to split us up. They’re on a different flight.”
Honestly? Splitting up from them was a huge relief. A mercy actually. Pretending to be fine during the first leg of the flight was exhausting. I plastered a fake smile on my face, forcing myself to chat about meaningless things when all I wanted to do was sit in silence and ache.
“Good. You should marinate in your feelings. But not for too long because I need you emotionally stable enough to spill every detail about Mr. Bazillionaire.”
I sigh, following her. God help me.
We step outside into the humid Charleston air, the automatic doors whooshing shut behind us. The moment we hit the sidewalk, people driving by honk their horns.
Violet lifts her short dino arms and waves at them like she’s a damn celebrity on a parade float.
“Thank you, thank you!” she calls out. “I’m here all week!”
A guy leans out of his car window, grinning. “Love the costume, sweetheart!”
Violet gasps, clutching her non-existent dino pearls. “I’m not wearing a costume, sir.”
I snort, shaking my head. “You are ridiculous.”
“Yes… ridiculously on point.”
We dart through the pedestrian crossing, collecting stares, honks, and one very enthusiastic marriage proposal.
“Whew. Being a national treasure is exhausting.”
“Take off the suit, Violet. I’ve missed your face.”
She sighs like I’ve asked her to give up oxygen. “Fine. It was fun while it lasted.”
With several grunts and some truly questionable maneuvering, she fights her way out of the monstrosity, tossing it into the backseat.
She swings her keys around her finger, grinning. “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”
I laugh as I climb in. “Let’s go, you fucking spectacle.”
Violet pulls out of the airport parking lot, weaving through traffic with the confidence of someone who thinks speed limits are merely suggestions.
“So, tell me. How did things go with the others?
I glance out the window, watching Charleston blur past in a familiar haze of warm streetlights and Spanish moss. “Well, you’re not gonna believe this one—Sophie and Elijah are a thing.”
She gives me that what-kind-of-fresh-hell-is-this stare. “Could you repeat that with less clown and more logic?”
I brace for impact because Violet lives for drama.
“Elijah and Sophie––together.”
Her jaw drops. “Like… together together?”
I nod. “Yup.”
She gasps so hard I’m mildly concerned she might pass out. “And you casually drop this bombshell now? Like it’s some fun fact and not a damn breaking news alert?”
“Forgive me but Elijah and Sophie’s relationship hasn’t been at the top of my concern list.”
“Last I heard, Elijah was still sniffing around you.”
“Stop it… that puts a disgusting image in my mind. But the answer is yes, he still does when Sophie isn’t looking.”
“So, let me get this straight. He’s hooking up with Sophie but still trying to get with you?”
“Yup.”
She lets out a low, disgusted noise. “God. Elijah gives me the ick.”
“So much ick.” A shiver rolls through me as I think about him.
She beats the steering wheel with her palm, accidentally honking the horn. “Men are so fucking exhausting. Except Mr. Bazillionaire, of course.”
Alex is exhausting as well but in the best possible way.
“Speaking of Mr. Bazillionaire… when do I get the soul-baring, blush-worthy details, hmm?”
I release a slow breath, shifting in my seat. “Yeah… it’s a long story.”
“Lucky for you, I’m a big fan of long stories. And caffeine. Which is why” —she flips on the blinker and whips the car into a sharp right, sending me crashing against the door— “we’re taking a little detour.”
“Where are we going?”
She grins. “To your favorite bakery. We’re getting coffee and macarons… and you’re telling me everything about Sydney and Mr. Bazillionaire.”
I’m bone tired, struggling to hold myself together. But I need this. The talking. The catching up. The feeling of being understood.
The moment we step into the bakery, the warm scent of vanilla and espresso wraps around me like a hug. It’s the kind of place that belongs in a Hallmark movie—pastel walls, twinkling fairy lights, display cases filled with delicate French pastries that look almost too pretty to eat. Almost.
Violet beelines for the counter, ordering our favorite cappuccinos and an assortment of macarons like she’s feeding an army. “We’re celebrating your return. And” —she shoots me a pointed look— “distracting you from your heartache.”
I force a smile, but my chest tightens.
We settle into a quiet corner with our steaming cups, a tower of pastel macarons stacked between us. I should feel better. This is my happy place. I’m with my best friend. I have sugar and caffeine. But instead, my throat tightens, and my vision blurs.
Of course, Violet notices. “Oh, Mags.”
I shake my head, blinking against the sting. “I’m fine.”
“You are not fine.” She reaches across the table, her hand resting over mine. “What happened?”
Emotion rises, thick and sharp. “I left him, Vi.” My voice cracks. “I got on a plane and left him, and I swear to God, it was like ripping out my heart.”
Her face softens, and for once, she doesn’t crack a joke. “Tell me everything.”
I exhale, fingers tracing the rim of my cup. “We agreed it wasn’t a goodbye. We left it open-ended--see you later instead of this is over. But with so much distance, it still seems like goodbye.”
“That’s because you love him and want to be with him.”
I nod, pressing my lips together.
She squeezes my hand. “Okay, first, you didn’t leave him. You came home. There’s a difference.”
I give her a doubtful look.
“It wasn’t possible for you to stay in Australia forever. You have a life here. You couldn’t drop everything and stay because of some good dick.”
“It is some really good dick. But more than that, it’s love.”
Violet’s smile softens. “That’s even more reason it isn’t over.”
I release a shaky breath. “I don’t know how this works, Vi.”
She pops the rest of a macaron into her mouth. “You’ll figure it out one step at a time. And let’s be real—you and Mr. Bazillionaire? This is only the beginning.”
I want to believe her. God, I need to believe her. But for now, all I can do is try to breathe through the ache in my chest and take it one moment at a time.
I tear off a piece of macaron, rolling it between my fingers before popping it into my mouth. The sweetness melts on my tongue, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest.
Violet studies me over the rim of her coffee cup. “Has Alex changed his mind about marriage?”
“His search for a wife is on pause. For now.”
Violet hums, considering that. “I mean, that’s kind of huge for Mr. Commitment-or-bust.”
“Yeah. But that’s not even my biggest concern.”
She cocks her head. “What is?”
I swirl my cappuccino. “Being with Alex long-term means moving to Australia.” I whisper it, as though saying it too loud might make it real. “It means giving up everything here—my job, my home… you.” My voice wobbles on that last word.
Violet’s face falls but only for a second. She straightens, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “Oh hell no, Mags. You do not get to lump me in with things you’d be leaving behind. I’m not a Charleston-based best friend. I’m a lifetime best friend. You could be on Mars, and I’d still be texting you memes and demanding you spill the tea. You don’t lose me because you change your zip code. That’s not how this works.”
Warmth spreads through my chest, loosening something I had clenched tight.
“Nothing—not distance, not time zones, not even some bazillionaire rugby god with great dick—is ever going to end this friendship.” She gestures between us. “You and me? This is forever.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back, managing a smile.
She smirks. “Might as well get used to it now. You’re stuck with me.”
“Thank you for always being there for me.” I reach across the table, squeezing her hand. “I love you, Vi.”
“Damn right you do.”
Her voice is light, teasing… but when I look up, her eyes are shining, a little too glassy under the warm cafe lights. She blinks rapidly—like she can will them away—and looks down at her coffee.
And just like that, I see past the jokes, past the bravado.
I take a slow breath, staring down at the delicate shell of a half-eaten macaron. “I love him, Vi. I love him so much. And leaving him tore me apart.”
Violet is silent for a moment. She watches me, her eyes softer now, her expression unreadable. Then she leans back, crossing her arms over her chest. “So what does that mean? For the future?”
A long breath escapes my lips. “I don’t know. I have a lot to think about.”
Violet hums, tilting her head. “Hmm.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”
She smirks. “Oh nothing. Only mentally planning your wedding, that’s all.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s quite the leap.”
She shrugs. “Not really. You’re in love with a man who will absolutely put a ring on it. A huge one. Wait and see.”
Her words settle somewhere deep in my chest. Because despite everything—the distance, the uncertainty, the choices I still have to make—I don’t know if she’s right.
The drive to my apartment is quiet, a stark contrast to the nonstop chatter at the cafe. Violet hums along to the radio, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, but she doesn’t push for more conversation. She knows me too well. Knows I need a moment to sit with my thoughts.
Sunrise paints the city in gold as we drive through familiar streets, but nothing feels the same. Maybe I’m the one who’s changed.
By the time we pull up to my building, exhaustion drapes over me like a weighted blanket. Violet grabs a couple of my bags without waiting for me to argue and walks me to the door. She sets them down inside, giving the place a quick glance like she’s checking that it’s still standing.
“I’m not gonna hover,” she says, pulling me into a hug and squeezing tighter than usual. “You’re wiped. You need sleep, not me breathing down your neck. Text me if you need anything.”
I nod, forcing a small smile. “I will.”
But as soon as I step inside, the facade cracks.
The door clicks shut behind me, sealing me inside the quiet stillness of my apartment. It’s exactly the way I left it—neatly arranged furniture, the stale scent of the old building clinging to the air.
I cross the room and strike a match, lighting the vanilla candle I always keep on the coffee table. Watching the flame flicker to life feels like staking a small claim—like reminding this place that I’m back.
But I’m not the same.
I’m different.
My suitcase sits by the door, a tangible reminder that I was somewhere else not so long ago. That I was with him. Wrapped up in his arms, in his life, in a world that now seems impossibly far away.
I kick out of my shoes, making my way deeper inside, but the space is almost foreign. Like I don’t quite belong here anymore.
Because a piece of my heart remains in Sydney.
Part of me is his.
I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at nothing, my thoughts tangled in all the ways I’ve changed since the last time I was in this room. How I used to think I had everything figured out. How I once believed that love was something I could choose to walk away from if I had to.
But I was wrong.
I love Alex Sebring. Endlessly.
He’s still in every breath I take, and I don’t think that will ever change.
God, I missed that menace in mascara.
“Violet,” I call, shaking my head.
She gasps as if she didn’t see me coming and throws her little T. rex arms in the air, running at me.
Well… as much as one can run in a giant inflatable dinosaur suit.
“Oh my God, Mags!” Her voice is muffled by the costume. “Is that you? Have you come to declare your regrets and bad decisions?”
I plant a hand on my hip. “You do realize this is embarrassing, right?”
“Duh.” She wiggles her tiny dino claws. “I knew you’d be sad, so I’m distracting you with my utter lack of shame.”
And there it is. The reason behind the absurdity. She knew I’d barely be holding it together.
That’s Violet. She’s never been the hug you while you cry type. No, she’s the dress up as a prehistoric creature in a crowded airport to make you laugh type.
Emotion knots in my throat, but I swallow it down and go to her, wrapping my arms around the big dumb dinosaur that is my best friend.
“God, I missed you, you damn freak.”
Violet makes a sniffing sound. “I missed you too, Mags. And I hope you know that no other arrival at this airport tonight is getting this level of fanfare.”
“I would be concerned if they were.”
She pulls back, placing her clawed hands on my shoulders like she’s about to drop some wisdom. “Now, I’ll help you grab your bags, but first, I must ask—do you have anything to declare?” She gestures to her sign.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Only… sadness. It was hard to leave him.”
Violet nods. “I know. That’s why I’m going to shower you with unconditional love and endless entertainment.”
I smirk. “Starting with a dinosaur suit?”
“Obviously.” She gestures grandly. “Now, let’s grab your luggage and get out of here before someone asks me to take a picture with their kid.”
Violet stops mid-waddle, her inflatable tail nearly taking out a passing traveler. She spins to face me, her dinosaur head bobbing. “Wait a second. Where are the others?”
“Oh yeah. We missed our connection in L.A., so the airline had to split us up. They’re on a different flight.”
Honestly? Splitting up from them was a huge relief. A mercy actually. Pretending to be fine during the first leg of the flight was exhausting. I plastered a fake smile on my face, forcing myself to chat about meaningless things when all I wanted to do was sit in silence and ache.
“Good. You should marinate in your feelings. But not for too long because I need you emotionally stable enough to spill every detail about Mr. Bazillionaire.”
I sigh, following her. God help me.
We step outside into the humid Charleston air, the automatic doors whooshing shut behind us. The moment we hit the sidewalk, people driving by honk their horns.
Violet lifts her short dino arms and waves at them like she’s a damn celebrity on a parade float.
“Thank you, thank you!” she calls out. “I’m here all week!”
A guy leans out of his car window, grinning. “Love the costume, sweetheart!”
Violet gasps, clutching her non-existent dino pearls. “I’m not wearing a costume, sir.”
I snort, shaking my head. “You are ridiculous.”
“Yes… ridiculously on point.”
We dart through the pedestrian crossing, collecting stares, honks, and one very enthusiastic marriage proposal.
“Whew. Being a national treasure is exhausting.”
“Take off the suit, Violet. I’ve missed your face.”
She sighs like I’ve asked her to give up oxygen. “Fine. It was fun while it lasted.”
With several grunts and some truly questionable maneuvering, she fights her way out of the monstrosity, tossing it into the backseat.
She swings her keys around her finger, grinning. “Ready to blow this popsicle stand?”
I laugh as I climb in. “Let’s go, you fucking spectacle.”
Violet pulls out of the airport parking lot, weaving through traffic with the confidence of someone who thinks speed limits are merely suggestions.
“So, tell me. How did things go with the others?
I glance out the window, watching Charleston blur past in a familiar haze of warm streetlights and Spanish moss. “Well, you’re not gonna believe this one—Sophie and Elijah are a thing.”
She gives me that what-kind-of-fresh-hell-is-this stare. “Could you repeat that with less clown and more logic?”
I brace for impact because Violet lives for drama.
“Elijah and Sophie––together.”
Her jaw drops. “Like… together together?”
I nod. “Yup.”
She gasps so hard I’m mildly concerned she might pass out. “And you casually drop this bombshell now? Like it’s some fun fact and not a damn breaking news alert?”
“Forgive me but Elijah and Sophie’s relationship hasn’t been at the top of my concern list.”
“Last I heard, Elijah was still sniffing around you.”
“Stop it… that puts a disgusting image in my mind. But the answer is yes, he still does when Sophie isn’t looking.”
“So, let me get this straight. He’s hooking up with Sophie but still trying to get with you?”
“Yup.”
She lets out a low, disgusted noise. “God. Elijah gives me the ick.”
“So much ick.” A shiver rolls through me as I think about him.
She beats the steering wheel with her palm, accidentally honking the horn. “Men are so fucking exhausting. Except Mr. Bazillionaire, of course.”
Alex is exhausting as well but in the best possible way.
“Speaking of Mr. Bazillionaire… when do I get the soul-baring, blush-worthy details, hmm?”
I release a slow breath, shifting in my seat. “Yeah… it’s a long story.”
“Lucky for you, I’m a big fan of long stories. And caffeine. Which is why” —she flips on the blinker and whips the car into a sharp right, sending me crashing against the door— “we’re taking a little detour.”
“Where are we going?”
She grins. “To your favorite bakery. We’re getting coffee and macarons… and you’re telling me everything about Sydney and Mr. Bazillionaire.”
I’m bone tired, struggling to hold myself together. But I need this. The talking. The catching up. The feeling of being understood.
The moment we step into the bakery, the warm scent of vanilla and espresso wraps around me like a hug. It’s the kind of place that belongs in a Hallmark movie—pastel walls, twinkling fairy lights, display cases filled with delicate French pastries that look almost too pretty to eat. Almost.
Violet beelines for the counter, ordering our favorite cappuccinos and an assortment of macarons like she’s feeding an army. “We’re celebrating your return. And” —she shoots me a pointed look— “distracting you from your heartache.”
I force a smile, but my chest tightens.
We settle into a quiet corner with our steaming cups, a tower of pastel macarons stacked between us. I should feel better. This is my happy place. I’m with my best friend. I have sugar and caffeine. But instead, my throat tightens, and my vision blurs.
Of course, Violet notices. “Oh, Mags.”
I shake my head, blinking against the sting. “I’m fine.”
“You are not fine.” She reaches across the table, her hand resting over mine. “What happened?”
Emotion rises, thick and sharp. “I left him, Vi.” My voice cracks. “I got on a plane and left him, and I swear to God, it was like ripping out my heart.”
Her face softens, and for once, she doesn’t crack a joke. “Tell me everything.”
I exhale, fingers tracing the rim of my cup. “We agreed it wasn’t a goodbye. We left it open-ended--see you later instead of this is over. But with so much distance, it still seems like goodbye.”
“That’s because you love him and want to be with him.”
I nod, pressing my lips together.
She squeezes my hand. “Okay, first, you didn’t leave him. You came home. There’s a difference.”
I give her a doubtful look.
“It wasn’t possible for you to stay in Australia forever. You have a life here. You couldn’t drop everything and stay because of some good dick.”
“It is some really good dick. But more than that, it’s love.”
Violet’s smile softens. “That’s even more reason it isn’t over.”
I release a shaky breath. “I don’t know how this works, Vi.”
She pops the rest of a macaron into her mouth. “You’ll figure it out one step at a time. And let’s be real—you and Mr. Bazillionaire? This is only the beginning.”
I want to believe her. God, I need to believe her. But for now, all I can do is try to breathe through the ache in my chest and take it one moment at a time.
I tear off a piece of macaron, rolling it between my fingers before popping it into my mouth. The sweetness melts on my tongue, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest.
Violet studies me over the rim of her coffee cup. “Has Alex changed his mind about marriage?”
“His search for a wife is on pause. For now.”
Violet hums, considering that. “I mean, that’s kind of huge for Mr. Commitment-or-bust.”
“Yeah. But that’s not even my biggest concern.”
She cocks her head. “What is?”
I swirl my cappuccino. “Being with Alex long-term means moving to Australia.” I whisper it, as though saying it too loud might make it real. “It means giving up everything here—my job, my home… you.” My voice wobbles on that last word.
Violet’s face falls but only for a second. She straightens, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “Oh hell no, Mags. You do not get to lump me in with things you’d be leaving behind. I’m not a Charleston-based best friend. I’m a lifetime best friend. You could be on Mars, and I’d still be texting you memes and demanding you spill the tea. You don’t lose me because you change your zip code. That’s not how this works.”
Warmth spreads through my chest, loosening something I had clenched tight.
“Nothing—not distance, not time zones, not even some bazillionaire rugby god with great dick—is ever going to end this friendship.” She gestures between us. “You and me? This is forever.”
Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them back, managing a smile.
She smirks. “Might as well get used to it now. You’re stuck with me.”
“Thank you for always being there for me.” I reach across the table, squeezing her hand. “I love you, Vi.”
“Damn right you do.”
Her voice is light, teasing… but when I look up, her eyes are shining, a little too glassy under the warm cafe lights. She blinks rapidly—like she can will them away—and looks down at her coffee.
And just like that, I see past the jokes, past the bravado.
I take a slow breath, staring down at the delicate shell of a half-eaten macaron. “I love him, Vi. I love him so much. And leaving him tore me apart.”
Violet is silent for a moment. She watches me, her eyes softer now, her expression unreadable. Then she leans back, crossing her arms over her chest. “So what does that mean? For the future?”
A long breath escapes my lips. “I don’t know. I have a lot to think about.”
Violet hums, tilting her head. “Hmm.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”
She smirks. “Oh nothing. Only mentally planning your wedding, that’s all.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s quite the leap.”
She shrugs. “Not really. You’re in love with a man who will absolutely put a ring on it. A huge one. Wait and see.”
Her words settle somewhere deep in my chest. Because despite everything—the distance, the uncertainty, the choices I still have to make—I don’t know if she’s right.
The drive to my apartment is quiet, a stark contrast to the nonstop chatter at the cafe. Violet hums along to the radio, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, but she doesn’t push for more conversation. She knows me too well. Knows I need a moment to sit with my thoughts.
Sunrise paints the city in gold as we drive through familiar streets, but nothing feels the same. Maybe I’m the one who’s changed.
By the time we pull up to my building, exhaustion drapes over me like a weighted blanket. Violet grabs a couple of my bags without waiting for me to argue and walks me to the door. She sets them down inside, giving the place a quick glance like she’s checking that it’s still standing.
“I’m not gonna hover,” she says, pulling me into a hug and squeezing tighter than usual. “You’re wiped. You need sleep, not me breathing down your neck. Text me if you need anything.”
I nod, forcing a small smile. “I will.”
But as soon as I step inside, the facade cracks.
The door clicks shut behind me, sealing me inside the quiet stillness of my apartment. It’s exactly the way I left it—neatly arranged furniture, the stale scent of the old building clinging to the air.
I cross the room and strike a match, lighting the vanilla candle I always keep on the coffee table. Watching the flame flicker to life feels like staking a small claim—like reminding this place that I’m back.
But I’m not the same.
I’m different.
My suitcase sits by the door, a tangible reminder that I was somewhere else not so long ago. That I was with him. Wrapped up in his arms, in his life, in a world that now seems impossibly far away.
I kick out of my shoes, making my way deeper inside, but the space is almost foreign. Like I don’t quite belong here anymore.
Because a piece of my heart remains in Sydney.
Part of me is his.
I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at nothing, my thoughts tangled in all the ways I’ve changed since the last time I was in this room. How I used to think I had everything figured out. How I once believed that love was something I could choose to walk away from if I had to.
But I was wrong.
I love Alex Sebring. Endlessly.
He’s still in every breath I take, and I don’t think that will ever change.
Thank you for reading Chapter One of American Beauty.
Magnolia said goodbye… but her heart never left him. Alex Sebring is across the world, and everything they built is on the line.
Ready to see what happens when distance, doubt, and desire collide? Get your copy now.
Magnolia said goodbye… but her heart never left him. Alex Sebring is across the world, and everything they built is on the line.
Ready to see what happens when distance, doubt, and desire collide? Get your copy now.