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“Sorry, doll, but we need to make sure we finish on time,” he replies with a smirk. “I’ve got an important meeting at 11 a.m.”

Lifting both hands in surrender, I slowly head back to the table. “Fine. See you at 7 then.”

My tone is drained of enthusiasm, which only makes everyone laugh harder at my reaction.

“If Colt isn’t enough, I can help too,” Chase offers, arching an eyebrow teasingly.

“Hmm…” I pretend to think about it, pressing two fingers dramatically to my lips. “Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

Winking at him, I lean over the table to grab a slice of cake.

That’s when I hear a chair scrape against the floor. From the corner of my eye, I see Zayn standing up.

“You’re leaving?” Sierra asks, looking at him. “You just got here.”

“Yeah,” he answers, kissing her forehead. “I have a really early meeting tomorrow morning, and I want to sort something out with Beatrix tonight.”

He leans down and kisses Thalia too, then tells everyone goodnight and leaves.

And I realize I’ve been standing there the entire time, watching him.

When he disappears through the door, disappointment sinks deeper into the hollow ache already sitting in my chest.

I need to finish Serena’s room by tomorrow night and leave Nick and Sierra’s house.

I’ll stay at one of Theo’s hotels for the duration of the renovations and do everything possible to avoid seeing Zayn again.

I need to give myself time to heal.

And that means I can’t keep seeing him.

At least not for a while.

That’s how you forget someone, right?

Out of sight, out of mind.

FORTY-SEVEN

Zayn

“You’ve broken that promise sixteen times already,” Ethan says, stepping into my office, barely pulling the door shut behind him.

I only glance up from my laptop, watching him from across the room with that unreadable poker face he uses whenever he’s having a conversation and doesn’t want anyone to figure out what he’s really thinking. Apparently, this is one of those moments.

Last night, I took part in another race, and the press made sure to photograph me in every possible situation—arriving at the location, standing at the starting line, during the race itself… even after I crossed the finish line.

They made a big deal about me crossing it first.

And, of course, they photographed me when Rita grabbed my hand as I stepped out of the car and dragged me to a more secluded corner.

I’d still been wearing the same clothes I had on at dinner with them earlier.

Even though the articles barely stayed online for five minutes, I knew the guys had seen them.

And I’d known this conversation with Ethan would follow. I could feel it coming long before he walked through the door.

“Ethan,” I answer with a fake smile—one he reads immediately, judging by how his expression becomes even more unimpressed. “Please, come in. Have a seat,” I add sarcastically.