Warmth filled the space between us, easy and unguarded. The world felt stripped of games and threats. Just me and my best friend on a foggy Sunday, hiding from the world behind cappuccino foam.
I let myself pretend it was real. That life could be this simple.
But Luke had never been simple. He existed in the quiet spaces I tried to protect.
My body still carried him—the steady pressure of his hand at my waist in the ballroom, grounding me when everything else tilted. The way his mouth had found mine on the beach, not hesitant, not unsure. Certain. Like he’d always known I was his.
Heat curled low in my stomach, traitorous and familiar.
Being seen with Luke should have felt like stepping onto a battlefield with no armor. Instead, I could breathe. I’d been underwater for years without realizing it.
“Okay,” Avery said softly. “Your turn.”
The illusion fractured. Reality pressed back in—the fundraiser, the eyes, the whispers waiting to sharpen into weapons. Going public with Luke should have terrified me. But worse than any of it was the thought of losing him again.
My fingers traced the rim of my mug, the ceramic warm against skin that still remembered his touch.
“What happened with you and Luke at the fundraiser,” she continued, tone gentler now, “and after? Your message on Saturday didn’t go into any details, and I know there’s more.”
So much more.
“Okay,” Avery said, studying me over the rim of her mug. “Why do you look like that?”
“Like what?” I deflected.
“Like you just won something.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Or lost it. I can’t decide.”
Heat crept up my neck. “I don’t?—”
“You went public with Luke King,” she cut in, quiet but direct. “That’s not insignificant, Mila.”
The word “public” hung between us.
“Was it your idea,” she asked, softer now but more pointed, “or his?”
I hesitated.
Avery caught it.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “You didn’t get dragged into this. You chose it.”
“What happened at the fundraiser?” she pressed. “And don’t give me the edited version. Your text Saturday was suspiciously vague.”
My fingers traced the rim of my mug. “Elise cornered me,” I began.
Avery didn’t flinch. “Of course she did. Did he see?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And he didn’t hesitate.”
“Yeah.” Avery’s mouth curved slowly. “That sounds right. Then what happened?”
“She handed me an envelope,” I continued. “It contained corporate documents that were fabricated transfers tied to my mom. Industrial espionage.”
Avery’s face drained of color. “You’re serious.”
