Before I could respond, Izzy appeared behind my sister, a glass of red wine already in hand. “There's the blushing bride,” she drawled, giving me a once-over that missed nothing. “And her extremely fuckable husband.”
“Izzy.” Kate's scandalized voice came from behind her, though her lips twitched with suppressed laughter as she joined our growing circle. “Filter, please.”
“What? It's not like I'm wrong.” Izzy shrugged, taking another sip of her wine. “I have eyes.”
I felt heat crawl up my neck as Rafe cleared his throat beside me. “I think I'll go find Liam,” he said, briefly squeezing my waist before he stepped away. “Ladies.”
Izzy watched him go with undisguised appreciation. “I still can't believe you married him in Vegas. Of all the impulsive things...”
“Speaking of,” Kate interjected smoothly, linking her arm through mine, “we need details. All of them. Right now.”
Before I could protest, I was being steered away from the foyer and into the adjacent sitting room, a glass of white wine pressed into my hand as we went. I glanced back to see Rafe watching our retreat, his expression unreadable as Liam clapped him on the shoulder in greeting.
The sitting room was cozy despite its size, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the Manhattan skyline. Kate and Izzy maneuvered me onto one of the plush sofas, positioning themselves on either side of me like beautiful, well-dressed interrogators.
“Spill,” Izzy demanded, tucking one leg underneath her.
I took a healthy sip of my wine. “It's complicated.”
“Isn't it always?” Kate's voice was gentler, her hazel eyes kind but no less curious. “One minute you're telling us he's an arrogant dinosaur with daddy issues, the next you're his wife. You can see why we're intrigued.”
With a heavy sigh, I proceeded to tell them about our arrangement, carefully leaving out the parts where Rafe found me dancing at Vice and Virtue and our little encounter in the music room.
After I was done speaking, Izzy leaned forward and the mischief shining in her eyes scared me a little. “So all three of you got married for reasons other than love. Everlee and Kate both ended up finding it anyway...” She gave me a meaningful stare and raised her eyebrows suggestively. “I'm sensing a pattern.”
I choked on my wine. “What? No. That's not—we're not—”
“Not what?” Izzy pressed, clearly enjoying my discomfort. “Not in love? Not fucking like rabbits? Because the way you two look at each other says otherwise.”
At her words, my gaze instinctively sought out Rafe across the room where he stood with Liam and Tristan. The three of them were engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation. As if sensing my attention, he looked up and our eyes locked. Something passed between us, and I wondered if anyone else could see the parts of him I'd discovered this past week. The man who played piano in the middle of the night, who carried the weight of his brother's death, who looked at me sometimes like I was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.
“Holy fucking shit,” Izzy groaned. “The eye-fucking is even worse than I thought.”
“Izzy,” Kate admonished, though her lips curved upward.
“What? I'm just saying what we're all thinking.” Izzy drained the last of her wine in one dramatic gulp. “And apparently everyone is having sex except me.” She stood, smoothing her hands over her fitted dress. “I'm getting more wine. Kate, come help me guilt-trip your husband into introducing me to one of his hot lawyer friends.”
Kate sighed but rose to follow her sister. “Sorry about her,” she said to Evie. “You know how she gets.”
As they departed toward the kitchen, my sister slipped into the space they'd vacated. “You okay?” she asked, voice soft with concern.
I nodded, though my fingers twisted nervously in my lap. “Yeah. Just... a lot at once, you know?”
Evie took my hand and squeezed gently. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” Her eyes searched my face for the longest time. “I mean it, Cece. Anything.”
My throat tightened with emotion and guilt about the secrets I still kept from her. How could I tell her the truth about my marriage when it was tangled up in so many other lies? How could I explain the debts, the desperation, the choices I'd made?
“I know,” I managed, squeezing her hand in return. “And I'm okay, really. It's just... an adjustment.”
She studied me for a moment longer, then nodded. “As long as he's treating you well.” Her expression turned fierce. “Because if he's not, pregnant or not, I will end him.”
I laughed, a real laugh that released some of the tension inside my chest. “He is. Treating me well, I mean.” More than well, if the memory of his mouth on mine was any indication.
“Good.” She leaned her head against my shoulder briefly. “Because you deserve that, Cece. You deserve someone who sees you for the amazing person you are.”
The lump in my throat grew larger. If only she knew the truth. But before I could respond, a familiar deep voice cut through our moment.
“Mind if I steal my wife?”
