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No. Not this time. I drove my knife across the delicate flesh of my sole meuniere, making a jagged mess of my dish. My heart was not breaking. It had already shattered a thousand times. I wouldn’t let myself go there again.

I was so busy constructing an imaginary barrier around my heart that I didn’t hear Helen Harris addressing me. Sabrina kicked me under the table, and when I looked up, Helen was studying me curiously.

Loosening my grip on my knife, I hesitated before answering, “Yes.”

“How delightful.” Helen Harris leaned closer, the scent of Chanel No. 5 so strong, I could taste it over my risotto. “A spring wedding!”

“I’m sorry?” My eyebrows drew together in confusion.

“I’m so pleased you’ve finally chosen a date.” She laughed and glanced at my naked ring finger. “Still no engagement ring? He’d better have one before you walk down the aisle.”

“Oh, I . . .” Goddammit. Why had I not anticipated Helen bringing up my fiancé? And in front of Sabrina and Pete!

“Wedding?” Sabrina nearly choked on her steak.

I cleared my throat. “That’s right, Sabrina.” I nudged her with my foot under the table. “Mrs. Harris . . .”

“Oh, please do call me Helen, dear.” She smiled at me.

“Helen, I’ve unfortunately ended my engagement.” I gulped down my wine.

Pete narrowed his eyes. “I never knew you were engaged, Diana. In fact, Sabrina was asking me just last week if I couldn’t introduce you to a friend of mine.”

“Uh.” I threw Sabrina a nervous look and thank god, she knew me well enough to step in.

“Right, because they just broke up. She’s heartbroken.” She patted my hand.

“Well, that’s strange. Why did you say you’d set a date?” Helen asked.

“Because we had just selected a date and then we ended it.” I grabbed for my glass and knocked it over, wine spilling over the tablecloth.

“Oh goodness, I’m so sorry to have brought it up.” Helen gestured for the waiter to clear up the mess I’d made. I stood to try to clean it myself, but she put a firm hand on my arm and I sank back into my seat obediently. “It’s curious that Reginald mentioned having met him the other day. The mysterious Levi.”

Sabrina made another choking sound, and I didn’t dare look at her. My cheeks were burning. I’d never been good at inventing stories—as this whole lie surely demonstrated. I brought my hand to my throat. “It’s on-again, off-again.”

“Oh, well, then it’s something you must work through,” said Helen. “He sounded lovely.” She leaned over to her friend. “A pilot.”

“A pilot named Levi,” Sabrina repeated and looked at me like I’d lost my mind then caught herself. “Personally, I say good riddance.”

“But they’re childhood sweethearts! It’s such a shame.”

I stared down at my plate, cursing myself for starting this lie. And worse for taking some perverse pleasure in it. I’d enjoyed talking about Levi to her. It was like conjuring up that version of him that still lived on in my mind. The platonic ideal of Levi. One that had never broken my heart or walked out of my life.

Thankfully, the conversation turned to other topics, due largely to Sabrina who had a gift for strategically leading discussions. She and Pete filled Helen in on our latest achievements while I sat there, ruminating until Helen brought up Claudia Visconti.

“Her granddaughter is going to the debutante ball in Paris. Along with my niece and the Tedeschi girls. The dance instructor canceled on us at the last minute.” She sighed. “You wouldn’t know any dance instructors, Lucia?”

“No, I have two left feet.” Her friend laughed.

“Wait!” Helen turned to me. “Wasn’t your fiancé a dancer?”

“What?” Had I mentioned that?

“I’m sure you told me he used to be a competitive dancer.” She clapped her hands together. “What a brilliant idea! You’ll ask him if he’s available, won’t you?”

“He’s probably busy with work,” I protested.

“Such a shame!” Helen pursed her lips. “Claudia was looking to brush up on her dance skills as well. She made her come out in Paris, and there’s a special dance for the former debutantes.”