Somewhere in the gutter.
Her gaze slid sideways again. Gage, chewing. Unbothered. Gorgeous. She was on the pill. She knew it, her body knew it. And yet her hormones were out here acting like it was peak fertility hour.
Gage leaned close, just enough she could feel the heat of him. “You keep looking at me like that, and we won’t be staying for dessert.” He paused, then added, lower, “I already know which clasp I’ll undo first.”
Bea stepped out of the powder room, heels clicking lightly on the marble as she adjusted her dress at the shoulder.
Rafael emerged from the opposite end of the corridor like something conjured.
She halted midstep. So did he, as if her stillness summoned his.
“Nice dress, little Bea.”
Her pulse misfired. She crossed her arms, eyes flicking over his face. “Nice…beard thing.”
He smiled. No charm, all trouble. “I was wondering if you’d notice.”
She noticed too much. For example, “I noticed your date.”
“Did you?”
She smiled serenely, trying to hold the high ground. “She’s beautiful.” Not to mention leggy, glossy, the kind of woman who knew exactly how to wear an evening.
“You’d hate her if you spoke to her.”
“Why?”
His gaze didn’t move from hers. “Because she’s not you.”
The words landed like a wrong note, abrupt and far too loud in her chest. What he expected her to say in response to lines like that, she had no idea. She looked away, fingers fussing at an earring that didn’t need fixing.
“So…” The timbre of his voice descended. “…when’s your turn?”
Her gaze cut back to him. “Excuse me?”
“Rings are trending tonight.” A lazy, one-shoulder shrug. “Felt like a fair question.”
The blood drained from her fingers. He couldn’t know. About London. About everything.
Bea scoffed. “You’ve been silent for months and now you’re making jokes?”
“I’m not joking.”
“Then what are you doing?”
He barely stepped closer, and the air shifted. Great. Now her lungs were confused.
“Making conversation. Unless you prefer silence.” Yes, the silence was better. Except for the moments it sucked.
As if he didn’t expect a reply, he turned his head, gaze tracking the music echoing down the corridor.
“They look happy,” he noted.
Bea followed his line of sight. Naomi and Charles, radiant and ridiculous. The crowd around them beaming like they’d all helped tie the bow.
“They are,” she said softly.
“It’s easy when you want the same kind of life.”
