“THERE THEY ARE!” DIGGING THROUGH the back of the towel closet in the bathroom, I spy the container of batteries I’ve been looking for. “Why are they in here?”

Shrugging, I pull them out and take them to the kitchen to their rightful spot: the junk drawer.

The house smells like cinnamon and sugar, the sweet scent of snickerdoodle cookies. I woke up happy this morning, even though I went to bed a little down in the dumps. Leaving Graham after our yoga exercise was a moment I’ll always remember. Not because it was super sexy, because it wasn’t. It’s also not because he said anything sweet or profound, because he didn’t.

When his hand touched mine, it wasn’t with any ulterior motive. When his lips kissed my cheek, it wasn’t foreplay. When his eyes met mine, he wasn’t seeing my face or my body. He saw . . . me.

In those few seconds, a warmth rushed through me. Something was exchanged between us in that moment, something realer than we’ve experienced. As he saw me, so did I.

The way he looked at me, with respect and admiration and maybe even something else that I’m too afraid to consider, shook me. The longer his gaze lingered on me, the more I felt like the woman I’ve been searching for. And as our conversation turned to our plans for the future and he began insisting I go back to school, for business, no less, and he asked how he could help facilitate that, I felt like the world was at my feet. It was the feeling I used to have. The one I lost so long ago.

That’s what I took with me to bed and that’s what I woke up with.

A feeling that maybe I’m going to be okay.

And I get to see him today. That doesn’t hurt.

Popping the cookies out of the oven, I make sure the picture frame I purchased off her registry this morning is wrapped. The tape didn’t want to stick, but it looks pretty.

The mossy green dress I wore to my first day at Landry is laid on my bed. I slip it on and add a pair of heather heels and a simple gold necklace. When I look in the mirror, I do something I don’t normally do: I genuinely smile.

For the first time in a long time, I know the girl looking back at me. I see her strength, her confidence, and while they might be cracked, they’re there. They were gone for so long.

“You’ve got this. You’re going to be okay,” I whisper in the mirror before grabbing the gift, my keys, and heading to the Savannah Room.

THE SAVANNAH ROOM IS A beautiful estate in the city. There are grounds to walk and enjoy nature, as well as a golf course and tennis courts. In the center of the gardens is a network of old, brick buildings that have been maintained since before the Civil War. The main part is used for large gatherings, political events, weddings, and rallies. There are smaller conference rooms along the periphery.

Glancing at Graham’s text, I veer my car to the side towards the golf course. A valet greets me, says nothing about the state of the interior of my car, and whisks it away. I’m left standing in front of the clubhouse.

A gentle breeze blows across grasses, carrying with it a feeling of warmth. Of new beginnings. Tucking the gift in my arm, I climb the stairs and hear the sounds of talking and laughter right away.

The door is opened as a man exits and I duck inside. My heart is strumming in my chest as I look for Camilla or Sienna. I don’t know anyone else. I’m not sure why I’m here. It’s stupid. It’s silly. It’s—

“There you are!” I hear Sienna’s voice above everyone else. Soon after, she makes her way through the small crowd in a lilac shift dress that hits her mid-thigh, almost making her look like royalty. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” I must not be convincing because Sienna laughs.

“I’m sorry. I am happy to be here. I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Don’t be,” she scoffs, her eyes bright. “Everyone is great. I can say that and mean it. How many girls can say that about their sisters-in-law?”

“None,” I laugh as she leads me across the room. I deposit my gift on a large table near the window overflowing with packages. “Everyone, this is Mallory Sims. I went to school with her.”

“I remember you,” Mrs. Landry says, pulling me in for a quick hug. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking. You?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” She senses my apprehension and helps wash it away with a kind smile. “Mallory, this is my friend Paulina, followed by Alison, Barrett’s girlfriend, Macie, Danielle’s friend from Boston, and the woman of the hour, Danielle Ashley.”

Everyone says hello, giving me small waves and welcomes. They’re a beautiful group of women, perfectly coiffed, yet so warm and inviting. They all go back to their conversations as Camilla joins me.

“Overwhelmed?” she laughs.

“No, strangely,” I admit. “It’s not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Come on.” She leads me towards Danielle, who is wearing a short, white dress. Her dark hair is in curls and a stark contrast to the fabric. She looks at us with a giddiness I can only imagine. “Dani, this is my friend, Mallory. I know Mom did an introduction, but I wanted to make sure I did it personally.”

Danielle pulls me in for a one-arm hug. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“You have?”

“Yes,” she giggles. “Lincoln said he met you the other day.” She leans forward conspiratorially. “He also said Graham is a little smitten with you.”

My cheeks turn the color of the roses on the table. “I don’t know about that.”

She shrugs. “That’s the word on the street. I also might’ve overheard a conversation between the two of them the other night. Linc had Graham on speakerphone while he worked out, so it’s not like I was eavesdropping,” she winks. “But Graham seemed defensive when it came to you.”

“I heard that too,” Alison says, smiling as she comes up on my other side. Her golden dress shines, making her look even more radiant than she already is. “I’m Alison, by the way.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” I say, shaking her proffered hand.

“You too.” She stands next to Danielle. “Are you from here?”

“Yes, although I haven’t lived here in a while. It kind of feels like I’m new here, to be honest.”

“Welcome to the club,” Danielle laughs. “I need to find a good bakery here. Know of one?”

“I do,” I tell her. “There’s a place near my house called Corner’s. Best cinnamon rolls you could ever want.”

Danielle sighs. “Girl, you just found yourself a new friend. When I get back from my honeymoon, I’m going to get your number and we are going to the bakery!”

Alison laughs, putting her hand on her belly. “If I’m home, don’t the two of you even think about leaving me out. I can get nuts over a good cinnamon roll.”

My heart swells as I listen to these women make plans for the three of us. The bakery turns into a full-blown lunch that turns into a day at the spa. Before I know what’s happening, a date is set, reservations are made, and the deal is done.

I think I’m grinning like a teenage girl being included at the cool lunch table. That is, until the door opens and some of the best-looking men I’ve seen in my entire life walk in. Together.

They come in like a stampede, a burst of movement and noise, laughter and shouts, that makes all of us back up to make room.

Their shirts are wet, water dripping off their hair.

“It’s raining,” Lincoln says, shaking his head. Droplets fly off of him like a dog after a bath, making Camilla shriek.

“Stop it,” she says, swatting him.

Over the top of the pack, in the back, I find Graham. He’s watching me with a tentative smile. When I return it, his spreads across his face.

The guys filter out, some to their girlfriends or wives, some to the catering table. Graham comes straight for me.

“You’re here,” he says, like he thought I wouldn’t be.

“You’re wet.”

“That I am,” he chuckles. “We got to the third hole and it just cut loose out of nowhere. I had to ride in the cart back with Lincoln, hence the reason we are wetter than everyone else. He hit every puddle from there to here.”

Laughing, I notice he’s right. He’s almost completely soaked whereas most of the others aren’t quite so wet.

“How are things in here?” he asks.

“Things in here are great,” Danielle says, sliding up beside him. “I told her I’ve heard a lot about her.”

“That was nice of you,” Graham says, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

“We made plans for two weekends from now. So mark that on your calendar, all right?” Danielle asks.

Alison comes up behind me. She must be mouthing something to Graham because I see him watching her over my head. He shakes his head. “You two are as bad as my brothers,” he groans before turning towards me. “You would think a bright woman like you would’ve stayed away from those two.”

Our conversation is interrupted by Mrs. Landry. “Ladies—and gentlemen, I suppose—it’s time to open gifts.”

Everyone begins to shuffle towards the front, but Graham pulls me to the back and around a corner. There’s a nook there with a shelf that runs along the top of the room. We can hear the other guests down the hall, but there’s no one around.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, my breathing picking up.

His gaze is heated as he stands in front of me. “It’s more than okay.” Our lips taunt one another, one of us leaning toward the other and then stopping before the other one begins. It’s a dance, a step forward, a step back, pure torture that is this close to falling over the edge. “Mallory, I . . .”

I drop my chin.

“When I walked in here and saw you in the mix with my family . . .”

Lifting my eyes to his, I see them shine. Something is different with him. I can’t put my finger on it, but it seems like some of the burden he carries is gone.

His green polo shirt makes his eyes look brighter, his hair darker, his smile whiter. More beautiful and handsome than usual.

I tell myself not to. I try to resist. But my hand finds his cheek, and as soon as I touch him, he rewards me with a smile.

“Will you stay with me after the wedding?” he asks quietly.

“But—”

“I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to remind me of our conversation at the house and probably reiterate all the things I said to you. But stay with me, Mallory. Please.”

I can say no. It’s on the tip of my tongue. But instead of just giving in to him, going along with the look in his eye because I have no other choice, I realize . . . I do have a choice.

Studying his features, I let myself pause. Gazing in his eyes, feeling the energy rippling between us, I know my answer and it’s because it’s what I want—not because it’s what he wants.

“Yes, Graham,” I say. “I’ll stay with you.”

His lips find mine in a kiss that has nothing to do with sex, nothing to do with being in an alcove away from his family. And that says more than any words ever could.