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Who knows.

James’s gaze moves from me to the man hovering over us, and his eyes sharpen ever so slightly. Clearly being EVP of reputation management includes being a quick but bull’s-eye judge of character. Which is impressive, actually, considering Dom was the best of the best at deceiving everyone.

Dom towers over us with his six-foot-four stature, his blazing white teeth shining down on us through a wide smile. There’s a ring on his finger—Stephanie Graham, I heard, three years our junior from school days. His boots look new, and his sweater is as loud and festive as the rest of them.

Now, now, Chloe, I scold myself silently. Patience. He might have had a whole redemption moment. It has, after all, been seven years.

“Back at our old spot, are you? I’m a married man now, Chlo. Can’t be lingering on too many old memories.” He laughs good-naturedly, as though this were all some hilarious joke and it is only natural that I, Chloe Hollis, would still be hung up on him. That all the terrible moments I went through—that he knows I went through—are just funny little memories between us. Nothing that would send me fleeing across the country. Nothing to get carried away over.

My cheeks burn.

Just as quickly as he says the words he swivels toward James and puts out a hand. “Especially when it appears you’ve upgraded. Hi, I’m Dom.”

The unfortunate thing about Dom is that his voice is deceivingly smooth and dark and rich and trustworthy. His eyes are light and bright, even when his words convey a confusing mix of praise and spitfire. He shows up and helps a neighbor stuck on the side of the road. He was the guy who took off the prom king crown in high school and humbly put it on the head of the mascot-costume-wearing kid who’d recently been in a car accident and was more spirited than all the rest of us over the years. Dom was the town good guy—even when, on the rarest of occasions, some little ding went off in people’s heads that told them something was not right.

He had everyone fooled.

I think it was only his immediate family and me who knew just how dangerously deceptive he was. He was selfish, and he loved control, and he was smart about it. He knew all tyrannical dictators get overthrown eventually, so he chose instead the path of the benevolent king, tossing out trinkets while keeping his eye on the real prize.

To keep being king.

James’s eyes, right now, surprise me. Two narrow slits of green. An energy I haven’t seen from him yet, as foreign but authentic as Peter gripping James’s hand just minutes ago. He frowns at Dom’s outstretched hand without moving.

James is steady.

Scary steady.

Like a rock.

Fascinating again. He’s so clearly uninterested in this other man’s opinion that he doesn’t even appear tempted to reach for the guy’s hand.

Which means Dom has no power over him.

I guess that’s what happens when you’re not a slave to the opinions around you; you’re beautifully free.

“James,” he says at last, in an act that shows he isn’t impressed by what he’s seen so far and is willing to make it clear, but he also has no interest in throwing fists over it. The response is just barely cordial enough to pass for civil and keep the music playing.

Dom, in a rare moment, looks startled and doubles down on the friendliness factor.

“First time in Maple Hills?” he says, all charm.

“Yes.”

“I assume you hail from Seattle as well.”

“New York.”

Dom’s lips pucker slightly, but he continues, determined. “The way you two met must be a good story.”

James takes a breath, and as my gaze shifts to him, I find myself desperately hoping he doesn’t tell the truth here. For years Dom had a power to turn anything I did into a way to make me feel inadequate. Every compliment came with an undercut. I could win third place in anything and, after talking to him, end up feeling downcast I didn’t get second. But then if I took second, I’d end up fretting because he’d ask me why I didn’t work hard enough to win. And any competition I actually won, he’d point out was just a stupid, small-town event not even worth mentioning, much less taking pride in.

With Dom, nothing I did was ever enough.

Just keep it vague, I plead with my eyes to James. I know you don’t know me from Adam, but please in your kindness of heart, keep it vague.

The last thing I want is Dominic Stewart knowing how the past seven years have gone since I “left him.” How little I have to show for myself, just like he knew would happen.

I feel a pinch in my chest, all the while knowing how ridiculous it is that this man still holds any power over me, when James, meeting my gaze with a steady smile, says, “It is.”