The party is an eclectic mix, scuffed shoes blending with fine Italian loafers. Nearby, a diamond-studded society matron who consults Nona on party menus laughs at the jokes of Cliff Ernst, the mechanic who’s been working on the family’s cars since before I was born.

My dad sidles up next to me. “She’s well loved by the community, isn’t she?”

I nod, smiling. “You should pay her more.”

He chuckles. “She makes more than most CEOs I know.”

“Really?” I ask with shock. “Why the hell hasn’t she retired?”

My dad shrugs as he looks across the room. Spotting Nona chatting with Sebastian, his gaze warms. “I’ve tried to kick her out but she won’t leave. Anyway, she’s family. This house is hers as much as it is mine.”

I hum in agreement. “We’d be lost without her, probably.”

When my dad doesn’t reply, I glance over to find him looking toward the table of hors d'oeuvres. Following his gaze, I see a woman with pale blonde hair in a neat bob. Another assessment of my dad’s face—and the restrained emotion there—makes my stomach clench and drop.

“Is that Abigail? Mom’s friend?”

My voice comes out harder and louder than expected. Abigail hears her name and turns, blue eyes alighting on the two of us. She smiles broadly and excuses herself from her current companion. As she walks toward us, I search her face and eyes for signs of discomfort or guilt. There aren’t any.

I remember her as a sunny, happy woman with whom my mother shared secrets and mystifying laughter. I haven’t seen her since the funeral.

“Candace,” she gushes, kissing both of my cheeks, “you look so beautiful. You’re all grown up.”

I show her my teeth. “Nearly thirty.”

Her laugh is strained, her gaze flickering uncertainly to my father. “Bennie, how are you? What a lovely party.”

He nods stoically. “Thank you, Abigail. I’m doing well. Yourself?”

“You weren’t on the guest list,” I interject.

“Candace,” chastises my father.

Abigail pales; her smile holds but goes brittle. “You invited my husband. Chip Foley.”

My brows lift. “You’re married to the chair of the town board?”

“Nearly three years,” she says with another tense laugh, “though the election was just last year. We’re very happy.”

“I’m glad,” says my father softly.

They look at each other, then keep looking. Too long. Too intimate. Something… happens to me. White noise fills my ears. The delicate stem of the champagne flute snaps in my fingers.

“You need to leave.” The words are barely audible, utterly breathless.

Finally, my dad looks at me. “Candace, you’re bleeding!” He grabs the broken flute, sets it on a nearby table, and reaches for my hands. I flinch away.

Strong fingers grip my shoulders from behind. “I’ve got her,” says Sebastian. His hands keep me upright and moving. Out of the room, down the hallway.

He doesn’t stop until we’re outside, the backyard’s grass under our feet. When he turns me around to face him, I blink dazedly at his dark expression.

“It was her,” I whisper. “Dad had an affair—”

He nods. “I know.”

“What? How?”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m so sorry, Candace.”

I step backward until his hands fall from my shoulders. I’m cold again. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask haltingly.

Crickets sing around us. Wind teases through my hair. It’s a beautiful, clear summer’s night.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he whispers.

Tears blur my vision. “That must have been a hard secret to keep.”

His eyes widen in surprise, scanning my face as if he expected another reaction. I can’t blame him—I don’t exactly have a reputation for even temperament.

“I’m not mad, Bast.” I sigh, gazing toward the dark woods. “Scratch that. I’m mad, but not at you. It’s just… it’s kind of too much to process right now. I’m afraid if I try, I’ll fall apart again.”

“You’re so much stronger than you think you are.”

Shrugging, I meet his gaze. “Maybe you’re right. Either way, I can’t go back in there or I’ll probably get arrested. Will you tell Nona how sorry I am?”

“She saw us leave,” he says cryptically. “Things were winding down, anyway. It was a great party, Candace. Thank you.”

“Anything for Nona.”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “You know what I mean.”

I do—he’s thanking me for treating Nona like family, for loving her as much as he does. The emotion in his eyes makes me uncomfortable. I don’t want his gratitude.

I break eye contact as I hug my arms to my chest. “Pretty great news about Alex and Thea, right?”

A smile in his voice, he says, “Yes. Did he tell you he cut out a hole in one of her favorite books and hid the ring in it? She was furious.”

I laugh shortly. “Yeah. Leave it to Alex to make a woman happy and pissed off at the same time.”

Sebastian grins. “Feeling a little better?”

“A little, thanks.”

He takes a step toward me, smile taking on a familiar edge. “Know what else will make you feel better?”

I frown. “I’m not really in the mo—” My words become a yelp as he grabs me by the waist, throws me over his shoulder, and starts running.

“Stop! Don’t you dare! Put—Me—Down!”

Laughing maniacally, he slows. “You want me to put you down?”

I lift my head enough to see where we are. My fingers dig into his shirt. “No. No, Bast. I swear to God—”

I’m flying, shrieking, seething, and finally laughing—right as I hit the water. It’s shockingly cold and dark, and immensely soothing. Kicking off my shoes, I allow myself to sink to the bottom, then lazily push to the surface.

I ignore the still-laughing man standing at the side of the pool as I float, my arms out and my gaze fixed on the starry sky.

Sebastian’s laughter fades to a sigh. “I remember that being more fun.”

I smirk, turning my head toward him. “You mean when I would throw an epic fit and Alex or Deacon would have to pull me off you.”

His teeth flash white in a grin. “Absolutely.”

I laugh. “We’re not teenagers anymore, Bast.”

“No, we’re not.” He steps out of his shoes and sits on the edge, dunking bare feet and the bottom half of his pants into the water. “Shit, that’s cold.”

“Baby.”

“Brat.”

I focus once again on the sky, my smile fading. My heart aches, divided by longing and fear. I don’t want to ruin the peace of the moment, this inexplicably precious doorway between the past and present. So I don’t tell him how much I’ve missed him over the years, how tired I am of fighting my feelings, or how scared I am that it’s too late for us.

Instead, I ask, “What should I do? Where do I go from here?”

He lingers in thoughts for a few moments. “I’ve always seen one of the challenges of having money as too much freedom. Too many choices.”

I grunt. “My brothers haven’t had a problem with it. They’ve found their passions.”

“Aren’t you passionate about what you do?” he asks in surprise.

The cold is finally seeping into my skin, so I flip upright and swim to the edge. Shivering, I brace my forearms on the tiled edge beside his legs, then look up at him. Unreadable dark eyes scan my face.

“Parts of it, yes,” I admit. “I love the results, but not the method. All the ass-kissing I have to do. Dealing with snobs who’d rather lose a limb than part with their money.”

He hums in commiseration. “Maybe it’s time for a career change.”

I frown. “Just give up? What about all the good I can do?”

“No matter what you do, Candace, you’ll find a way to do good.” He lifts his legs from the water and stands, offering me a hand. “Come on, you’re shivering. Let’s get you into the house.”