Across the room, in the middle of a conversation with Nick and Cassie.
He looks?—
God.
Unfair.
Dark suit. Clean lines. Something about the way he carries himself that hasn’t changed at all and also somehow feels completely different now that I know exactly what it means to be on the receiving end of his attention.
Cassie is talking with her hands, clearly mid-story, while Nick watches with the long-suffering patience of a man who has accepted his fate.
Miller says something—low, dry—and Cassieimmediately points at him like she’s making a legal argument.
I don’t hear it.
But I know exactly how it sounds.
Like him.
Like us.
Like something solid and real and not going anywhere.
As if he feels it, he looks up.
Finds me instantly.
Of course he does.
His expression shifts—subtle, but there. Softer. Warmer. Focused in a way that still, somehow, makes my stomach do that same ridiculous little flip it did the first time he texted meYou up?
I lift my eyebrows slightly.You good?
He gives the smallest nod.Yeah.
Then, because he can’t help himself, his gaze flicks deliberately over me once—head to toe—before returning to my face.
I narrow my eyes.
He doesn’t even try to look sorry.
Unbelievable.
I turn away before I do something deeply inappropriate in front of my entire family and most of my coworkers.
Which is how I end up directly in Devon’s line of sight.
Fantastic.
He’s already holding a glass of champagne and the kind of expression that suggests he has been waiting for this exact moment for far too long.
“No,” I say immediately, before he even opens his mouth.
He grins. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“I do. And the answer is no.”
“I just wanted to congratulate you.”
