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I blame Theo and his English politeness. It’s rubbing off on me.

He walks over and sits down on the bed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she’d be here. I haven’t seen her for years.” He takes my hand in his, turning my palm face up. “She and my brother are apparently an item.”

“And you two? Did you date?” I ask, because apparently I can’t play it cool.

He wrinkles his nose. “I wouldn’t call it that. We were young, and it was… convenient. Our families liked the idea.” His thumb brushes over my wrist.

“But not so convenient that it lasted?” I ask.

“Absolutely not.”

I want to ask if he was in love with her. If she broke his heart the way Patrick broke mine.

But I don’t. “Are you annoyed she’s dating your brother?” I ask instead.

“No,” he says, frowning. “I’m not annoyed at all.” His jaw shifts. “I don’t like that she’s here, though.”

“Why?”

He leans forward, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. “Because she’s the past and I’d rather think about the future.”

His fingers linger at my jaw.

“And I don’t like anything that makes you doubt that.”

My breath catches. “You noticed?”

“Of course I noticed.” He brushes his lips against mine. “But you have nothing to worry about. I promise.” He glances at the clock ticking on the antique dresser. “I’m going to take a shower, then let’s try to get some sleep, okay?”

I nod, watching him cross the room, the door to the bathroom closing with a soft click.

The pipes groan a second later as the water starts and I let out a long breath, because today has been a lot.

Let’s hope tomorrow’s party isn’t quite as eventful.

THEO

The bad weather has petered out by the time I wake the next morning. Light streams through the curtains, along with a cold draft the blankets do nothing to stop.

As I sit up, Georgia groans, like she’s in the middle of a bad dream. She turns until she’s curled up on her side, her hand beneath her cheek, the blankets half-falling off her body.

I reach out to tuck them around her and her eyes flutter open momentarily.

“Go back to sleep,” I whisper, kissing the tip of her nose. “It’s early.”

She hums in agreement, burrowing deeper into the pillow, her skin pink and warm.

I carefully climb out of bed, pulling on some clothes and head downstairs.

The house is quieter than last night, thank God. But Barbara is already up and in the kitchen, standing at the stove. She must hear me walk in because she turns and smiles when she sees me, then gestures toward the dining room across the hallway.

“You’re up early. Coffee’s in the morning room,” she says, eyeing my hair with amusement. “You look like you need it.”

“Thanks. I think.”

I follow the smell of coffee and push open the door, stopping short.

Kate is already seated at the table, sunlight catching in her hair, a cup cradled between her hands.