Kitty returned from the bar with a drink she immediately decided she did not like and handed it to me without asking.
“Hold this,” she said. “I need to be perceived as occupied.”
“For what?” I asked, uncertain of her meaning.
“For survival,” she replied gravely.
Collin was nearby, unmistakable in his overdressed splendor. He hovered at the perimeter of the dance floor like a man waiting for the exact right moment to launch a romantic ambush. He adjusted his cuffs, straightened his jacket, and took a breath that suggested he was about to declare something he believed would change Kitty’s life forever.
Kitty clocked him instantly and took two strategic steps backward, hiding behind me.
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered.
“I thought you wanted to be perceived as occupied.”
“I would rather not be perceived by him at all,” Kitty complained.
I smiled despite myself, the knot in my chest loosening just enough to let the evening feel almost normal. ”Then come dance with me.”
I pulled Kitty onto the floor and we grinned, dancing away our woes for the moment in the music. For a heartbeat, I forgot why my shoulders were tense and the quiet question I had been carrying since I saw Ephram across the room and then lost him again to the flow of guests.
I was mid-laugh at something Kitty said about romantic choreography when the temperature in the room seemed to drop a degree as I spotted the familiar form of someone I had never wished to see again.
Gavin Wickham stood near one of the tall cocktail tables, glass in hand, posture relaxed. He looked exactly as he always did when he wanted to be underestimated. He wore a polished suit and an easy smile. I had once called him devastatingly handsome and now he made my stomach roil. Nothing about him suggested tension or guilt or even concern.
Our eyes met across the room.
He inclined his head slightly, a gesture so small it could have been mistaken for courtesy.
I broke eye contact first.
That was a mistake.
At the end of the dance, I handed off Kitty to a young man, insisting they dance. Perhaps it was a bit rude, but I hoped Collin would at least get the point.
I felt Gavin’s presence behind me before I heard his voice, close enough that I could smell his cologne, something clean and expensive that made my skin crawl.
“Lydia,” he said warmly, as if we had arranged to meet. “It’s been a while.”
I turned slowly, careful to keep my expression neutral. “Gavin.”
He smiled, genuinely pleased. “You look well.”
I resisted the urge to glance around for witnesses, for Ephram, for anyone. I was not doing this again. I would not shrink or apologize or make myself small just because he occupied the same space.
“Enjoying the gala?” I asked, keeping my voice level.
“Immensely,” he replied. “Carly Hale has done a remarkable job. You must be delighted to have received an invite. I admit, I was not expecting the little Bennet family, small time entrepreneurs, to be invited to a local heiresses event.”
I could have told him Braxton was Carly’s brother. Instead I said nothing. I wasn’t about to give Gavin more information.
He took a sip of his drink, watching me over the rim of the glass. “I was hoping we might have a moment to clear the air.”
My pulse ticked faster. “There’s nothing to clear.”
“Oh,” he said lightly. “I think there is, but not in the way you’re imagining.”
He gestured toward the dance floor, where couples moved in lazy circles beneath the lights. “We’ve both had… misunderstandings in the past. Emotions run high and sometimes stories get tangled. It’s nobody’s fault.”
