Page 76 of The Wrong Monster

Beside me, Isla keeps talking.

“…and then the florist tells me that apparently the flowers I picked aren’t available in September, which would be fine if she hadn’t already told me they were. And then Mike’s mom actually had the audacity to say it was a blessing because she didn’t like them⁠—”

She stops. I glance over, fingers stopping the incessant tapping on the thermos.

“What?”

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

“I have.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“I heard you say something about flowers. And Mike’s mom, which”—an arched brow fights off the eye roll I really want to use to show just how much I care about that monster of a woman—“like I’ve said before, you really need to talk to him about that. It’s like there are three people in the relationship. And that’s weird.”

Her mouth drops open, a little scoff dropping out. “Something about flowers?”

I shrug, trying not to smile.

“That was the general theme.”

“Matty.” There’s enough irritation in my name to make me wince.

“I’m sorry.”

Isla gives me a look and keeps walking, her boots kicking through the damp carpet of pine needles.

“I’m trying to tell you about my wedding, which is currently turning into the most stressful event of my life, and you’re somewhere else entirely.”

“I’m here. I’m just, I’m not sure what you want me to say, because this feels like a lot of the same problems over and over again.”

She skids to a stop, leaving dark marks in the earth. “Your body is here, maybe, but your brain isn’t. And I get it; you don’t like Mike. But we’re engaged, Matty. I wish you’d be more on my side.”

“I am on your side, babe, that’s the problem.”

Isla turns again, stomping away down the path and leaving me feeling frustrated and guilty. She’s not wrong. I’ve barely been listening as she rambles on about tablecloth colors and the agony of picking a bridal party shade that will complement everyone. If I could, I’d just wear one of my pantsuits to the wedding.

But a small part of me is annoyed because I don’t like Mike, and I never have. Keeping my mouth shut is easier than telling her the truth, which is, I think it’s crazy she’s marrying him.

Ahead, the sound of rushing water grows louder, the roar of a waterfall cutting through the trees. I jog to catch up, rounding a corner and almost bumping into Isla’s short frame as she stares at the flowing falls.

Beautiful. Peaceful. Exactly what I should be appreciating.

Instead, I think about Vasily’s hands. His voice. The way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.

How badly I want to either slap that lopsided smirk off his face when we argue, or push him back onto his office desk and⁠—

I shake my head. No. Whatever is happening between us, I need to get control of it. The last thing I need is to fall for a man I’d insist on keeping out of my personal life if I were back in the city.

This whole Lake Placid situation, getting wrapped up with the Bratva, even this utopian hike…this is not my real life.

The reminder makes it feel like there’s a stone in my stomach, heavy. Sticking me to the ground as Isla wanders carefully closer to the pines leaning over the ravine.

The waterfall is so loud it blots out any thought, rushing over the rocks in a white, churning wall before disappearing into the pool below. For a moment, neither of us says anything.

It’s beautiful.

But something between us feels different.