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“You know, my best friend.” Clive handed Lily a flute and then handed his wife one.

“It’s not my night to watch him.” Lily sipped the bubbly liquid as she surreptitiously glanced around the room. She wasn’t searching for Marcus, but Emmett. He’d promised to be here in that email. She hadn’t seen him or his car in the parking lot, if he still drove the Saab.

She’d agreed to let Marcus pick her up and drive her to the dinner, but had negotiated her way out of the limo situation. For a while, she’d been excited about the idea of Emmett learning that she was with Marcus. But tonight, as she’d pinned her hair up in a chignon and spritzed on perfume, she’d played another scenario in her head.

What if Emmett saw her with Marcus and then suggested to Reginald London that Cameron Designs was unsuited for redesigning his superstores? What if he lied to Reginald about her professionalism, and then the Camerons lost a deal worth hundreds of thousands of dollars? It would be all Lily’s fault.

She’d tried to console herself with logic. Clive and Joanie were married, and Reginald didn’t care about that. But memories of the past stung her brain like angry wasps. Emmett had lied and then betrayed her before. And she had been forced to leave L&B with a wimpy severance package “so as not to embarrass the firm.”

She’d been ashamed of herself ever since, which was infuriating since Emmett had walked away blameless—and, as she’d recently learned, he didn’t work there any longer! She wished she would have stuck up for herself, or hired a lawyer—something other than what she’d done, which was tuck her tail and give up.

“Your dress is breathtaking, by the way.” Joanie smiled. “I can’t wait to see Marcus’s face when he lays eyes on you. He’ll die.”

“Why would he care what I’m wearing?” Lily asked.

“Come on, Lil,” Clive said with a tired sigh. “How much longer are you two going to pretend you’re not together?”

“We know, sweetie.” Joanie patted Lily’s arm. “Ever since the mansion, you guys have been behaving like horny teenagers.”

“We’ve always acted like teenagers,” Lily mumbled.

“How could you not tell us, though?” Joanie wrapped a hand around her husband’s arm. “We’re your best friends.”

There was nowhere else to hide, so she admitted, “Because of Emmett.”

Understanding dawned in Joanie’s eyes. “Oh. I forgot about him.”

“Emmett Webster?” Clive asked. “I just met him. One of London’s guys. I think he’s the head of marketing.”

“He’s the real reason I left L&B.”

“Shit.” Clive’s jaw tightened. “He’s the asshole who⁠—”

“Honey.” Joanie interrupted.

“You told him?” Lily should have expected that, she supposed.

“I had to. At the time, he couldn’t figure out why you took a pay cut to come to us, and was trying to find enough money for a bonus.”

Clive offered a shy smile. “I wanted to make sure you were taken care of.”

“You guys are amazing.” She was lucky to have them as friends. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Does Marcus know what happened at L&B?” Clive asked, still looking unhappy.

“Sort of. But he doesn’t know it was Emmett, or that Emmett works for London. I didn’t want to throw Marcus off his game before he gives his speech. I was afraid he’d see red if I told him, and then he’d forget everything he was going to say.”

Clive nodded. “Since I’m seeing red, I think that’s a safe bet.”

“So, we’ll keep it to ourselves in the meantime. No biggie,” Joanie said.

“We’ve got you covered, Lil,” Clive said. “We won’t let that asshole come anywhere near you.”

His eyes went over her shoulder. She turned, half expecting Emmett, but it was Marcus. He swaggered through the double doors looking like a movie star in his tuxedo, his dark hair neatly styled, one hand tucked casually in his pocket.

Relief fell over her like fresh rain. He brought with him a sense of peace and protection—he’d always had her back. Even when he was teasing her or pranking her, or stealing her food. And he not only wore a tux better than anyone in the room, with his shoulders filling out his jacket, but he’d also grown a short beard for the occasion—simply because she’d asked.

“There you guys are.” His eyes briefly scanned her dress. “You scrub up nice, McIntire.”