I know that expression. I’ve seen it before. On myself, every time Bennett Foster walked into a room before I was ready to admit what it meant.
I look at my man from across the room. He’s watching Shep watch Lynsie with the dawning recognition of a man who knows exactly what he’s seeing because he spent years being it.
He catches my eye.
We have an entire conversation without words.
Is he—
Yes.
She’s going to—
Give him nothing.
Should we—
Absolutely not.
Shep takes a breath, straightens his jacket, and starts moving toward Lynsie with the confidence of a man who has never once in his life considered the possibility that this might not work out in his favor.
Lynsie doesn’t speed up or slow down. Just keeps doing what she was doing, distributing drinks, moving through the crowd, giving him absolutely nothing to work with.
Shep follows anyway.
I make a mental note to talk to her tomorrow.
Then I remember who Lynsie Baxter is and decide she doesn’t need the warning.
Derek calls for attention at seven-fifteen, which is exactly when we planned and somehow still feels too soon.
The room settles. People find spots—against walls, clustered near the product displays, crowded into the styling area in a way that would normally make me anxious about liability. Tonight I don’t care. Tonight Glamboozled can hold whoever wants to be here.
Derek does what Derek does best—talks about the partnership with the precise enthusiasm of someone who genuinely loves his job and wants everyone in the room to understand why they should too. Reach and engagement andbrand synergy and the particular quality of light through east-facing windows in the morning. The Luxe regional manager nods at appropriate intervals. The press takes notes.
I stop hearing the words about thirty seconds in.
I’m looking at the room instead.
Carrie, standing near the back with her arms crossed and her eyes already bright, who showed up on my first day of business because she needed a job and stayed because we built something worth staying for. Margot, front left, who came with champagne and opinions and fifteen years of friendship that has survived everything I’ve thrown at it.
Nora, seated in the center, pearl earrings catching the light, hands folded in her lap. She looks exactly the same as she did the day she told me about my grandfather. About choosing risk. About the terrible truth that love doesn’t come with guarantees.
She was right. She’s always right. I should stop being surprised by this.
Beth, beside her, because of course they’ve found each other. Two women who saw this coming before either of us did, who kept showing up anyway, who never once said I told you so out loud even though they absolutely could have.
The Fosters taking up the entire back left section without apology.
Lynsie, moving quietly along the edge of the room, still working even now, tucking herself out of the way with the particular grace of someone who knows how to be present without taking up too much space. Shep is standing ten feet away from her with the calculated casualness of a man who is absolutely not tracking her every movement.
And Bennett.
In the back. Not holding the reflector panel anymore—he put it down when Derek called for attention, which is probably the most personal growth I’ve witnessed from him in six months.He’s just standing there, hands in his pockets, watching me the way he watches game tape. Like he’s studying something he already knows by heart but can’t stop reviewing.
Derek says my name.
I walk to the front of the room.
