All In No Regrets Except Losing Her Chapter 07
Night before the Debutante Ball. I take the train home.
I thought I’d be a wreck. Pacing. Overthinking. But there’s just this strange calm sitting in my chest that I can’t explain.
Mom looks at me across the kitchen table. Eyes a little glassy. But smiling so wide it reaches her whole face.
“You know, first time you brought Silas home? I knew right then. That boy’s the real deal.”
I blink.
“You don’t remember? He showed up with flowers for me and a nice bottle of bourbon for your dad. And your dad had that nasty cough — next morning, Silas had someone drop off a whole bag of throat lozenges and a jar of local honey. Didn’t even make a big deal out of it.”
Mom’s voice is soft. Warm. Like she’s been saving this up.
“And I mentioned once — just once — that your stomach gives you trouble. After that, every single time he ate here, he’d check with me. ‘Did you use dairy in this? She can’t handle too much dairy.’ Every time.”
“Zane knew about your stomach too. But Zane never once thought to ask.”
“Mom. You’ve been paying attention this whole time?”
She taps my forehead. Still smiling.
“Baby, everyone saw it. You’re the only one who didn’t.”
Dad calls out from the living room.
“Boy’s got his head screwed on right.”
“Sure, he goes to that same fancy school. Same crowd. But he’s not out there chasing the same nonsense. Got his own thing — ROTC, flight school after he graduates. That’s a real path.”
“Nobody stays lucky at the table forever.”
I laugh.
“Wow. Ceremony’s not till tomorrow and you’re already picking favorites.”
The house feels warm. Easy. Safe. Like I’ve been holding my breath for weeks and I’m finally letting it out.
Later. Showered. In bed. Scrolling nothing.
My phone buzzes.
Ivy.
No text. Just a photo.
A room at Sinclair Manor. Lamp on. Warm yellow glow. Wine glass half-empty on the nightstand. A torn wrapper beside it. Sheets tangled. And a guy in bed, covers at his waist, back bare, face half-buried in the pillow.
I’d recognize him anywhere.
Zane.
I stare at it.
And I feel nothing.
A lake in dead winter. Frozen so deep it can’t even ripple.
My phone rings. Silas.
“Still up?”
“Yeah.”
“Big day tomorrow. You nervous?”
“Little bit.”
He laughs. Low and quiet.
“Don’t be. Long as you don’t bail on me last second, I got everything handled.”
“I’m not bailing. Not a chance in hell.”
Two seconds of quiet.
“And if he shows up?”
I know who he means.
“I don’t care if God himself walks through that door. Nobody’s stopping this.”
He doesn’t let it go.
“Stopping the ceremony? Or stopping you from doing it with me?”
“If Zane walked in tomorrow and said he’d stand up there — would you let him?”
Heat flares in my chest.
“Silas. What the hell do you take me for? You getting cold feet?”
His voice drops. All the lightness gone.
“Quinn.”
“Long as you don’t regret it — I never will.”
My heart skips.
“Go to sleep. I’ll be there first thing.”
“Okay.”
I hang up. Close my eyes.
Something fills my chest. Something I haven’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever.
Not the reckless high of a gamble. Not adrenaline. Not desperation.
Just peace.
Next morning.
Silas pulls up out front. Black suit. Sharp. Clean.
He sees me walk out and his whole face changes. Like someone turned a light on behind his eyes.
I walk to him. He reaches out. Hand on my waist. Gentle.
“Quinn.” His voice shakes. Just barely. “Tell me I’m not dreaming.”
I look up at him. And my eyes sting before I can stop it.