Page 80 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

“Pish,” Rory says with a mischievous smile. “Plus, I bet I can get King to be my sexy fae male for a night.”

“Maybe,” Briar says. “But I’m not so sure Brooks will agree to do the same.”

“Of course he will,” she says. “He loves you.”

My heart pulses as I pass the phone back. “I’m not sure the timing is right. Your wedding is next week,” I tell Briar, “and then you’re going on their honeymoon.”

“We’ll be back in town in time for it,” Briar says. “Until things calm down we decided to stay nearby for our honeymoon. Though”—she leans in, drops her voice—“Brooks says they’re getting close to something big so that may not be too much longer now.”

“Because of the stuff Angela gave you?” Rory asks.

She nods. “And Thorn”—a look slanted in my direction that tells me she sees far too much—“used his connections to dig up more dirt. Brooks says that things should be a lot better by our wedding day.”

“Good,” I murmur.

“Speaking of Thorn…” she says gently.

I turn back to my bread. Nope. Still not rising.

“I don’t want to talk about Thorn,” I mutter.

I expect them to push. All I’ve told them is that it didn’t work out, and I know they’re confused—one second we were together (or at least figuring out what together looks like), and the next…I was showing up in an Uber on their porch with my suitcase in one hand and my KitchenAid tucked under my opposite arm.

A soft sigh. “He’ll come to his senses.”

“Ask me if I care,” I mutter.

I don’t care. Nope. I don’t. I don’t give a fig that he’s obviously carrying some heavy burdens, don’t care that he’s clearly scared and that’s what’s holding him back. I don’t even care that I shared and he doesn’t trust me to do the same (much, anyway).

I just want to move on.

Want to figure out what my life looks like in this next chapter.

And above all else, I want the Lyons to be taken down so I can go home, can go back to my small, quiet, peaceful life.

So, Thorn Wilkenson and his soft smiles and gorgeous green eyes and his gentle touches and his attention to detail can just…

Go suck an egg.

Twenty-Five

Thorn

The penthouse is too quiet.

And it’s my fault.

At least Violet is back, though she seems to be staring at me accusingly every chance she can get.

Like right now.

“Meow,” she laments, sitting on the bathroom counter, glaring at me as I brush my teeth.

“You picked me, remember?” I mutter after I’ve spit and rinsed.

“Meow,” she grumbles, spinning in a circle and curling up grumpily.

“Tell me about it.” I shove my toothbrush into the drawer, slap some sunscreen on my face, then scowl at my reflection in the mirror.