Nervous fingers trembled across the screen as Amos tapped icons on Lorena's phone. He hated snooping. Especially as she splashed in the shower just a few feet over, and if it weren't for the steam fogging the glass, she would see him. Taking a few deep breaths, he opened her texts and scrolled through them.

However, her messages with Elliot were all about work.

When he checked her other conversations, they came up empty as well. Aside from back-and-forth chatter with her sister, Lorena's texts were all business discussions between colleagues.

Amos was about to give up when he realized social media also had direct messaging. He hovered his thumb over one icon, but his heart plummeted to his feet when the shower faucet squeaked and the water turned off. With eyes wide, he set the phone face down on the vanity before bolting from the bathroom.

By the time Lorena exited, he was tucked under the blankets, pretending to sleep.

A few days went by, and Amos had yet to steal another chance at looking through Lorena's phone. It was eating away at him, and it didn't help that his recent read through Carmela's journal had him cursing her. Sure, Rodrigo was a piece of shit, but it didn't excuse cheating.

Did it?

On top of it all, Lorena's work was invited to some fancy seven-course dinner for a tech ceremony where Silicon Valley's finest rubbed elbows and presented awards. This meant Amos would have to stand by her side in a three-piece suit and be uncomfortable all night.

Dressing in front of the full-length mirror, he adjusted the cufflinks on his wrist and tugged on the neck of his ruby tie. Lorena's reflection moved behind him as she slipped on a red, body-hugging dress. It was her idea to match, so she picked his outfit as if dressing a Ken doll. He hated wearing suits. They confined his skin when he only wanted to roll up the sleeves, loosen the buttons, and un-tuck his shirt.

One thing was for sure; it didn't matter how fancy he looked. The clothes would never hide his tattoos. Ink covered his fingers and knuckles—his father's name on one hand and their family name on the other, with music notes dancing towards his wrists from a song his mother sang to him as a child.

"Zip me up?" Lorena glanced over her shoulder, so Amos turned, pinched the zipper between his fingers, and slid it upwards before smoothing his palms over her shoulders.

"You look pretty."

"Not, hot?" Lorena spun around.

"Smoking."

"You're looking pretty good too." She adjusted his tie.

"Digging the tatted bad-boy-in-suit look, huh?"

"You're way too good to be a bad boy. But it's why I love you." She leaned up on bare feet, kissing his nose.

"We won't be there all night, right?"

"Well, dinner starts at seven, followed by the awards ceremony at eight, and then dancing after."

"Let's skip the dancing."

"Amos..." Lorena slipped into her Christian Louboutin stilettos. "It'll look terrible if we leave right after the awards ceremony. We have to dance to at least a few songs. Besides, you love dancing."

"I do, but it's Sunday, and I got called to substitute tomorrow."

"Amos, we're twenty-eight, not eighty-eight. You can stay out late on a school night. Live a little."

"Interesting. You didn't have the same attitude a month ago when staff invited me to a school fundraiser."

"Hm, let me see..." Lorena raised her arms as if weighing the differences. "A fancy dinner at the Ritz Carlton or a potluck at a stuffy school gymnasium."

"You didn't even try to have fun. Instead, you complained the entire time."

"Amos, this is a prestigious awards ceremony in the tech world." Lorena arched a brow, hands on her hips. "It's not some silly fundraiser at a high school."

"Silly fund—" His eyes broadened.

"This is huge for me, and the fact you don't understand is infuriating. I've worked so hard to get where I am, and all you ever do is turn your nose up at it!"

"I turn my nose up at it?" Amos gasped. "You just called a fundraiser for disadvantaged youth, silly. These kids can't afford books or computers to do their homework—things they need to get into college, and you're calling the fundraiser to help them, silly? You are so fucking full of yourself!"

"Excuse me?" She reeled back.

"Yes! Full of yourself. You come from a middle-class family, whereas these kids come from the slums. You are privileged, and you don't even see it."

Lorena inhaled a deep breath, her chest expanding as she flexed her fists at her sides. Beats of silence passed as shadows from the trees outside their bedroom window swayed across the carpet. She finally blew out a slow breath.

"I think we're getting off track here. But you're right. I shouldn't have called it silly. I'm sorry."

"Thank you," Amos replied, and Lorena opened her mouth to speak but stopped. He knew she was expecting an apology in return, but he wouldn't give it. "We should go. We don't want to get stuck in traffic."

When he stepped towards the door, she latched onto him and pressed her forehead to his upper arm. "I'm sorry."

"I know." He glanced at her, and when she looked up, her brows furrowed. "Time is ticking. You don't want to be late for your ball."

It wasn't like Amos to be petty, but it sure felt good. And as Lorena walked past him, he grinned triumphantly.

∆∆∆

The Ritz was filled with tech giants dressed in tuxedos, their glamorous plus-ones at their sides, and just like every other occasion, Lorena ignored Amos to discuss work with colleagues. However, she posed for selfies with him and posted the photos on social media, broadcasting the great time they were having to friends and family. It was all lies. Just a facade to make her look good. As soon as the seven-course meal was over, she excused herself to the restroom. After waiting thirty minutes for her return, Amos gave up and retreated for fresh air.

The terrace overlooked the ocean with wooden chairs surrounding a fire pit, so he plopped down in one of them, jerked his tie loose, and then threw it onto the seat next to him. The fire's heat kissed his skin as moonlight shimmered across the agitated ocean waves rolling towards the shore in a soft crash against the cliff rocks. Pretending to care about Lorena's business world was exhausting, but the cool night air and whiskey in his hand were an excellent remedy, so he leaned back and took a slow sip.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was just like Carmela. Constantly holding onto hope, wishing for the best, and giving his all in a relationship, only to have his efforts met with crumbs in return.

So why was he holding on so tight?

Loyalty?

Stubbornness?

Not being one to give up?

Sighing, he dropped his face in his hand and began rubbing his temples. His family was right, he deserved better. Standing, he went to the balcony bordering the terrace and leaned his elbows on it. He peered over the railing at the ten-foot drop, where a path snaked the hotel, and contemplated going down the stairs for an evening stroll. The night was the right balance of a cool sea breeze fusing with the promise of a warm summer. As he gazed at the sunset's purple haze with remnants of orange flames kissing the horizon, he thought of Carmela.

"I am in the mood to dissolve in the sky..." He whispered, remembering her words from the journal. What if Cassandra was right, and she was out there, somewhere, watching the same last seconds of sunset as him? A slight flutter vibrated in his abdomen.

Would she look different from what he imagined? Because in his mind, he pictured her with big, curious, coffee-brown eyes and dark curls skimming her sharp cheekbones on their way down to her sun-drenched shoulders. She probably looked great in jeans.

"Jesus..." Amos muttered. "Daydreaming about a stranger. When did I become such a sap?"

Bringing the drink to his lips, he chuckled before taking a sip, but as he swallowed, he heard Lorena's voice. It was faint at first, like a whisper carrying on the wind, so he spun around, expecting her to be there on the terrace, but she wasn't. So he listened more closely, his ears twitching, and then he heard a second voice.

"You did what I told you to do, right?"

"Yes. I deleted everything and only left work stuff and texts with my sister."

"Good. And you left it out so he can see?"

"Of course! But I don't know if he did. Amos isn't the type of guy to snoop."

"Oh, trust me, he looked," the other voice chuckled. "When a man suspects he's being cheated on, he becomes Sherlock Holmes. Has he been acting differently?"

"Well, kind of. Calmer, I suppose. Calmer than usual."

"Good. That means he must have looked at your phone, and since he found nothing, you're in the clear."

"Oh, god. I hope so."

"You're still fucking him, right?"

"Can you not say it like that!"

"Well, are you?"

"Yes."

"Good. As long as you keep acting normal, everything will be all good. What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"It can't happen again."

"That's what you said last time, and then I practically fucked the lobster dinner out of you in the parking lot."

"Can you not say vulgar stuff like that!"

"Oh, come on. You loved every single minute of it. That's why you keep coming back for more."

"I have plenty of self-control!" Lorena scoffed.

"Right. Remember that next time you send me a half-naked selfie from the bathroom at work. Oh, and remember not to send it to your boyfriend first."

"I hate you sometimes!"

"No. You don't. Now kiss me."

"No."

"Yes. Kiss me," the other voice repeated.

"I can't. I'm wearing lipstick."

"Like I give a shit. Just kiss me!"

Bile climbed up Amos's throat in a burning surge as he stepped back from the balcony and the taste of stomach acid coated his tongue. It had to be Elliot. Slugging back the rest of his drink, Amos rolled up his sleeves, ready to pummel the guy. He spun around, searching for the stairs leading to the path, but froze when he spotted Elliot walking towards the terrace doors from inside the hotel. He stepped out, a gust of music following him.

"Hey, man. Have you seen Lorena? Our boss, Jason, is looking for her. He's talking to a client and needs her input."

"No... I haven't seen her in a while."

"Are you alright?" Elliot stepped forward. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Must be the whiskey and the chilly breeze."

"Yeah, it's kinda cold out here." He rubbed his shoulders. "Well, if you see her, tell her Jason has been hunting her down for the last thirty minutes."

"Will do."

"Oh wait, look, there she is!" Elliot pointed, and Amos followed his line of sight about twenty feet away, where the path disappeared under a canopy of lilac trees.

Moonlight glinted across Lorena's satin red dress, her toned thigh peek-a-booing from the high slit as she walked. On any other occasion, her striking beauty would have taken Amos's breath away, but he zeroed in on her hand, slipping away from Marco's, a smile exchanging between them before parting ways.

Marco...

"That fucker," Elliot gasped, stealing Amos's exact thoughts.

When Lorena tore her gaze away from Marco and focussed on the stairs in front of her, she stiffened. Then, as she proceeded forward, she smiled nonchalantly, tucking a few waves behind her ear, and began climbing. Amos waited, his arms crossed.

"Hey, what are you guys doing out here?" she forced out a laugh.

"I should ask you that," Amos replied through his teeth.

"Just getting fresh air..." she shuffled past him.

"I can't believe you!" Elliot grabbed her arm. "I've been saving your ass with Jason for thirty minutes, and you're out here with Marco."

"Elliot!" Lorena barked. "Not now."

"No," he objected. "I am seriously tired of you treating me like shit when all I do is pick up your slack, and you're out here with—"

"Elliot, shut up!" Lorena shrieked, cutting him off.

"Why should he?" Amos stepped in front of her. "What the hell were you doing out here with Marco?"

"I..." She opened and closed her mouth, struggling for words, her eyes becoming glossy.

"It was a rhetorical question, sweetheart," Amos hissed. "I already know."

"It's not what you think."

"Really?"

"Marco and I are just friends."

"Friends, huh?" Amos leaned in. "I think getting the lobster dinner fucked out of you is much more than just friends."

"What? No." Lorena's eyes widened.

"Or how about the sexy bathroom selfie you sent me a few days ago but was meant for him?"

"Wait," Elliot said. "She sent me that photo too."

"Seriously?" Amos's brows flew to his hairline.

"Yeah, she's been coming onto me for months, sending sexy photos and flirty texts," he added.

"Elliot." Lorena balled her fists, her face heating with rage. "I need to talk to my boyfriend, so please, give us some fucking space!"

"Which boyfriend?" Elliot scoffed. "Amos? Me? Or Marco?"

"Wow, real nice." Amos shifted his gaze to Lorena, shaking his head. "Five years. Five years, Lorena. And this is what it's come to? This is how it ends?"

"What?" she gasped, her eyes blinking, and as he walked away, she scrambled after him. "Amos, wait!"

Spinning around, he batted her hands away, a look of disgust creasing the edges of his mouth. "Don't touch me. I am done with you. DONE."

"No, baby, wait, please." She reached for him, her fingers grasping for the back of his shirt. "I made a mistake. I love you. We can work things out."

"Stop!" He spun back around. "What is there to work out? How the hell do you expect me to forgive you after sleeping with some other guy? And not once, but multiple times! You've embarrassed me long enough, and I don't know why I've held on for so long when everyone around us sees how wrong you are for me."

"No, that's not true. We can fix this," she cried, mascara running down her cheeks.

"I don't want to fix it. I am done. I'm catching an Uber, and when I get home, I'm taking all of your shit and turning it into a damn bonfire!"

As he headed for the terrace doors, Marco stepped out, and Lorena muttered a curse.

"Yo, looks like the party is out here!" he said, raising his hand for a high five. "Amos, my man. Good to see you."

"Well, isn't this perfect!" Amos marched over and slammed his fist into Marco's nose with a crunch.

"What the fuck!" he shouted, covering his face as blood oozed between his fingers.

"Congratulations, Lorena is all yours. You piece of shit."

Classical music, along with the hum of voices from people mingling outside the ceremony room, greeted Amos as he yanked the terrace doors open and stepped inside. He inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled a triumphant scream, raising his arms over his head and pumping his fists like Rocky Balboa. People jerked their attention towards him, their conversations halting, but Amos didn't give a single damn and strutted past them.

His toxic relationship with Lorena was over.