At my cousin’s engagement dinner, she laughed, “I hope I never end up like her—single with a kid.” The room burst out laughing. My uncle said, “Men don’t want used goods.” Even my mom chuckled. Then the groom stood up, walked to me, and said, “I think they should know something.” The room fell silent.
“Yes. Like a queen.” He held out his hand. In his palm sat a cheap, silver-tone locket shaped like a heart. “Wear this. It matches mine.”
I let him clasp it around my neck. It was tarnished and clearly costume jewelry, clashing with the attempted elegance of the dress, but it was the only thing I was wearing that felt real.
“Okay,” I whispered, pressing my forehead to his. “Let’s go face the dragons.”
We drove to the venue in my rattling sedan, the engine coughing as we pulled up to the valet stand. The restaurant, The Gilded Lily, was the kind of place where the water glasses were made of crystal and the menu didn’t list prices. As I handed my keys to a valet who looked better dressed than I was, I felt the familiar coil of anxiety tighten in my chest.
I took Milo’s hand. We walked toward the entrance, the heavy oak doors looming like the gates of a fortress. I didn’t know it then, but I was walking into an ambush. And the man waiting inside—the one standing beside my cousin—was about to change everything.
As the maître d’ opened the doors, the sound of polite laughter washed over us. I scanned the room, locking eyes with Tessa across the expanse of white linen. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It was a predator’s smile. But it wasn’t Tessa who made my heart stop. It was Dylan. He was standing by the bar, looking at the door, and when he saw me, his face drained of all color.
