Three.

That’s the number of times Grayson made me come before we dragged our exhausted bodies to the campfire. The man lasts all night long. He was incredible. I’m ready to forget the job search and give the footballer’s-wife strategy a serious effort.

For the rest of the evening, we didn’t communicate except through smiles and winks. This morning I woke in a happy glow until I opened my laptop and read the flood of rejection emails.

Finding a job in my field is like searching for the cup of glory. It’s pointless.

I snap the lid shut and gnaw my thumb. Lawyers aren’t in high demand these days, and my classmates are in the same boat. After I graduated, Dad offered me a place at Pardini & Associates, one of San Francisco’s most prestigious law firms. The job was entry-level. I would’ve started in the mailroom, but I could’ve clawed my way to associate after a few years.

I turned it down. It didn’t feel right. He only gave me the position out of respect for my mother’s memory. After she died, he kept me at arm’s length, like a dog he was obligated to keep but longed to get rid of. He paid for my housing so I wouldn’t have to come home over the summer. Out of sight, out of mind.

It was the worst thing he could’ve done. A thousand hateful voicemails would’ve been better than being ignored by my father. Invitations to family events gradually stopped. My brother was the only reason I’d return for Christmas, but the years apart distanced us, and Dad drove that wedge harder until there was no communication at all.

Never mind. Family drama’s the least of my problems.

I push the laptop away, clutching my head. It’s only been two weeks, but the end of August seems a lot closer than it did at the start of June, and I still can’t find a job.

My stomach clenches with a soft knock. "Can I come in?"

What the hell does Henry want? "Yeah."

The door swings open, and my brother steps through in a pair of black shorts and a light-pink polo. He takes the empty chair by the desk, gazing at my room. "What are you up to?"

His eyes laser through me. Henry hasn’t asked a single question about me the entire two weeks I’ve been here. He wants something.

I play along anyway. "Job hunting. It’s going a little slower than I hoped."

"Good, good," he says.

"What’s up?"

"You were out with Gray late last night."

I freeze. "We took a long walk. The weather was nice."

"I looked for you." His voice lowers. "You weren’t anywhere on that beach. Saffie, I don’t know what you’re doing with him, and frankly, I don’t want to, but you need to tell me what he said." Henry clasps his hands together, a grave expression darkening his face.

"I'm not following."

"About me."

My mouth gapes open. "We never talk about you."

"I find that really hard to believe considering he’s doing everything he can to piss me off."

Once again, I’m seized with curiosity. "What the hell happened between you? It has to be bad if you’re this worked up."

"I fucked up. That’s all you need to understand."

"Henry, I’m not going to blab—"

"I don’t know you," he says in a rough voice. "It’s serious enough that my lawyer advised me to make you leave."

Pressure builds behind my eyes. "You’re kicking me out?"

"No." He irons his forehead with his hands. "Saffie, I need your support. Sooner or later, I will face the consequences of what I did."

"I-I don’t understand how I can help."

"With a series of short interviews. How I was good to you growing up. I’ve been supportive, you know, that sort of thing."

I laugh, and he flinches against the noise. "So you want me to lie."

The suggestion hangs in the air until Henry speaks. "Yes, and I’ll pay you."

Self-disgust rises in my chest for considering his offer. "No."

For a second, he looks shocked. "But you need it."

"I will not tell the world how you gave me handouts. You shoved me out the moment Mom died."

"That was Dad."

"Sure. Whatever."

A ripple of anger distorts his anxiety. "Look, I don’t want to fight you. Grayson won’t let this die quietly, and I need your help. Name your price."

I cross my legs, glaring daggers at him. "If this massive drama bomb explodes, your estranged sister is supposed to say to everyone how lovely you are? They’ll see right through you."

"You have too much faith in the average Joe. My fans will believe what I tell them, and that’s all that matters."

Whatever this feud is, it sounds terrible. I shouldn’t have anything to do with it. "I don’t want your money, but I need a job."

Henry sits back. "At the family firm?"

"I was thinking I could be the team lawyer and take over drafting NDAs."

"That will not happen." Henry digs through his pocket. "But I'll call in a favor to Dad."

My stomach sinks at the thought of working for him. "He’ll never do it."

"He will for me," he murmurs as he types an email.

A bad feeling settles in my bones as I watch Henry. This scandal sounds like drama I should steer clear from, but the last thing in the world I want is to beg my friends for a space on their couch.

What a nightmare.

He looks away from typing. "Oh, and my wife wants to meet you for dinner this evening. Is that okay?"

Excitement ramps up my chest. "Really? You mean it?"

"Yeah, of course. Does tonight work for you?"

How kind of him to assume I have shit going on when he knows perfectly well my evenings are filled with chores. Damn it. That reminds me—Grayson and I were supposed to sneak out. I’ll have to cancel.

"Yes, I’m in."

"Great," he says, giving me a rare smile. "We’re leaving at seven. Dress code is fine dining, so you might want to throw on something more presentable."

"I know how to put on clothes, thanks."

Henry rises to his feet and walks to the door, his limbs stiff. His curtain of dirty-blond hair hides his face as he talks to the wall. "See you later."

He leaves my bedroom, and I pick the phone off the nightstand, gazing into the dark screen. Grayson will be pissed, but oh well.

I open Messages and text Grayson: Sorry, can’t hang out tonight.

Thinking he’ll get to it in a few minutes, I stretch my arms and stand. A mountain of chores is waiting for me, including making lunch for everyone. It’s a good thing they eat bland food, or I’d put my foot down.

My phone buzzes on the desk: What?

I roll my eyes at the screen, texting him back: My schedule is full, Grayson. Sorry.

Seconds later, my door bursts open to admit a gorgeous, broad-shouldered man with no boundaries. He pushes through the narrow frame, his toothy grin widening when he spots me.

"Did I say you could come in?"

He ignores me, sweeping inside. "Why?"

Grayson straddles the seat that Henry vacated. He’s so big that he takes a quarter of the room.

"I have chores up my ass, and Henry invited me to meet his wife."

He shrugs. "So? You have plans."

"How am I supposed to explain when he asks what they are?" I lower my voice. "Sorry, Henry. I gotta ride Grayson’s cock later. I doubt that’ll go over well."

He grins. "Tell him you’re staying for strip poker. Relax, that’s only once a month, and it’s on a Tuesday."

The sheets slide from my shoulders as I force myself out of bed. "Great—something else I’ll have to clean up after."

"Jesus. I’m kidding, Saffie." He cocks his head, eyes trained on my chest. "I’m a huge fan of that top."

I glance down, a blush filling my cheeks when I notice the soft, dark circles against my white T-shirt. "Thank God I didn’t leave my room."

"You would’ve turned a few heads." He rises from the chair and grabs my waist, slipping his hands underneath my cotton. "Don’t go."

A flash of fire hits my chest. "I want to."

He sighs, his breath warming my skin. "Why is it so damn important to you to score points with Henry?"

He tips my chin so that I meet his gaze. "Because he’s the only family I have."

"Fair enough."

"Why do you hate him?"

His playful smirk hangs by a thread. "I can’t tell you."

"Yes, you can. I’ve already done the rounds on all the gossip websites, and it's hard to find anything that’ll explain it."

"Why do you even care?"

I don’t know. "Morbid curiosity. You used to be best friends."

He sighs, his smile flattening. "As much as I’d love to dish the dirt on Henry, I wouldn’t feel right. It’s personal," he says, voice softening. "And the reason why I do all these stupid stunts."

"To punish him?" If he wanted to be vindictive, he could easily give the goods on my brother. He hasn’t. My curiosity will eat me alive.

"I guess." He shrugs.

I shouldn’t pry. "We don’t have to discuss it. Let’s not pretend this is more than it is."

"We’re friends with benefits." His deep voice soothes me. "That means you can talk about anything."

That’s not what we promised each other at the start of this. We agreed to keep it simple. Just sex. Confiding in Grayson complicates our arrangement. I’m already sleeping with the enemy. What’ll Henry do if I fall for him?

But I can’t gaze into Grayson’s eyes and tell him to back off. "It’s my dad’s fault he came out like this." I move from him, stepping into the bitterness rolling my tongue. "Dad paid for my school and apartment, so... I feel ungrateful for complaining."

"Sounds like they turned their backs on you."

They did. "I thought moving in here and being close to my brother would help, but now I see how far away he is. It hurts like hell." Tears build behind my eyes, and I turn from Grayson, who has pity written all over his face. "Let’s not talk about it, okay?"

I expect him to sweep out of the room at the sound of my choked voice, but his chest bumps into my back, and he snakes an arm around my waist. I find his hand, intertwining my fingers with his. This isn’t right—we’re not supposed to be close—but it feels damned good, and I don’t want to let him go.

"I grew up in a big family," he says. "Four sisters, no brothers. Lots of conversations about periods."

I laugh, brushing my cheeks. "That’s too bad."

"I met Grayson in college, and he was like the brother I always wanted. So I guess he’s been a disappointment to us both."

He is, isn’t he?

Grayson kisses my head, sending butterflies soaring in my stomach. "When’s this dinner of yours and where?"

"It’s at seven at the—wait, why?"

"No reason," he blurts.

I turn in his arms, suspicious. "Grayson."

"What? I’m just curious."

"Play foosball with Tipsy or something. You’ll be fine."

"Excuse me," he says. "Tipsy?"

My cheeks burn. "I have a hard time remembering who everyone is, so I gave you all nicknames."

He grins. "Even me?"

"Yes."

I move away, but he tugs at my arm. "What is it?"

"It’s stupid."

"Don’t care. I want to know. Is it Sexy? No, it’s Cocky. Or BP for Big Penis."

"Dimples," I say, tracing them on his cheek.

They carve deeper into his face with his smile. Damn, I’ll never get tired of seeing that. "Lame. What about Titus?"

"Who’s that?"

"Surfer guy with blond hair."

"Oh, that’s Ditzy. If you tell him that, Grayson, I'll kill you."

I feel his laughter through my chest. "Shit, this is good blackmail material."

Throwing him a glare, I yank the door open and gesture outside. "Don’t even think about it."

Bodyguards usher me into Henry’s black Audi, which shines like a dark gem. A man with a neck as thick as my thigh stands near the side-view mirror, a jacket wrapped around his chest. I duck, waving at Tipsy, who stood at the entrance of the house to see us off. I search through the glowing windows for Grayson, who vanished after I shooed him out of my room. My phone buzzes with a text from him: Have fun tonight :)

I message back: Where are you?

Grayson: Somewhere ;) I thought being nosy was against the rules.

Me: Why do I get the feeling you’re up to no good?

Grayson: Because I usually am. You owe me for canceling. I’ll come by later to collect.

I smile at the screen, heat rising to my face at the promise in his words. He’ll visit me when it’s past midnight, everyone’s asleep, and no one can hear our whispered moans and the thump of the headboard. Last night flashes through my head in lurid images. God, he was incredible. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at him and not feel a patch burning my cheeks.

Henry thanks his guard before sliding in next to me. I close the phone before he glimpses the text bubble messages with Grayson’s name. I shove it deep into my purse, heart racing with the thought of what he’d do. Henry already suspects Grayson and I fooled around on the beach. Maybe he thinks it was a one-time thing. If he knew I flouted his stupid rule the day I met Grayson, he’d be super pissed. There’s more than a little guilt wrestling with desire, but I don’t want to give up Grayson. For the life of me, I can’t see the harm in a brief, hot fling.

The car lurches forward. My heart gallops ahead as thoughts of Grayson sweep from my head, replaced by the anxiety of meeting my sister-in-law.

Please like me. Please, please, please.

Nervous, I glance at Henry. He wears a pair of slacks and a button-up shirt, which is upscale for California. Thank God I didn’t ditch the cocktail dress when I purged everything for my move. It’s too tight around my stomach, but it’ll do for dinner.

Henry throws me a puzzled look. "What’s with you?"

"I’m worried."

"About meeting Gisele?" His lips curl. "She’s a sweetheart, don’t worry."

Perusing through the Spanish tapas restaurant’s Yelp page before ironing my dress was stressful because I can’t remember the last time I experienced fine dining. "I’m uncultured swine. I do worry."

"You’re not that bad."

Thanks, bro. "Where did you guys meet?"

I gaze out the window at the sleeping city of Santa Barbara. Couldn’t be more dead. It’s strange, coming from San Francisco. The streets aren’t ever not flooded with people.

"We met at charity gala event. She’s a professional model."

"Yeah, I know." I Googled the hell out of her when I learned Henry was married.

He gives me a look. "I’m sorry you weren't invited to the wedding. It’s just—Father didn’t want you there, and you hadn’t been part of the family in so long."

The apology falls flat and cold. My skin crawls with the memory of opening that email and discovering a half-dozen pictures of my brother’s marriage ceremony. There was no reason to exclude me, other than he blamed me for Mom. Sorry doesn’t change the fact he didn’t want me there. I expected it from Dad. Not him.

The world dims, and I fight against the cold gripping my heart. "I haven’t because Dad cut me out."

Henry’s fists tighten over his slacks. "That’s not true."

"Last I checked, I’m still his daughter, but you’re the only one with an inheritance." A frown creases Henry’s forehead, and I sigh. "Relax. I’m over it. Didn't want to be rich anyway."

"He’s never given me a penny, Saff. I built my savings from the ground up when I signed with the Grizzlies."

"I don’t care about the damn money." All this time, and he thinks I’m still bitter. "My father disowned me. You weren’t talking to me."

Henry’s voice lowers to a hush. "You stopped coming to Christmas."

"Did you think I’d keep going when everyone blames me for what happened?"

Beams of light scan across Henry’s face as we pass street lamps, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob up and down. He meets my gaze with Mom’s eyes, and it hurts because she never looked at me like that. If she’d survived, she would’ve said it wasn’t my fault. Screw him for blaming me.

The Audi rolls to a halt in front of a restaurant glowing with a string of outdoor lights and heat lamps. The sidewalk teems with men, who leap at the sight of our car.

I jump as a man's body slaps the glass. "Shit!"

"They’re just fans," Henry says in a drawl. "Don’t worry."

The second vehicle with Henry’s bodyguards stops behind us. They stream outside, forming a barrier between the rabid people and the walkway leading to the restaurant. The driver steps out and opens our door, and the screams blast my ears. A flash blinds me as I take the bodyguard’s hand. I stagger into Henry’s chest. He pushes my upper back, beaming as his arm wraps around my shoulder. I chuckle at the sight of his ridiculous grin, stretched ear to ear.

"That smile almost makes you look human," I shout over the noise.

Henry fakes a laugh and clasps hands with some of his fans. They beg him for autographs and selfies. He indulges a few before tapping me and heading into the restaurant. People decked head to toe in Grizzlies gear scream his name hoarse, and photographers lean from the barrier, blinding me with shots. Tomorrow’s news feed will show me cringing from the light like Gollum.

We squeeze through the narrow opening. It’s so dark my eyes take a moment to adjust. We pass an area filled with glowing surfaces and a sleek, modern fireplace smack dab in the middle. The hostess greets us with a warm smile and addresses my brother by name. "Welcome, Mr. Pardini. Let me show you to your table."

She takes us through the lounge and upstairs to a private deck. A giant fig tree sprawls over the tables and chairs, lights intertwined in the branches. Potted plants sit everywhere, giving the impression that we’re having dinner in a grove. Low-hanging, dark purple fruit are within reach of my fingers. A sign at the base of the tree encourages guests to taste the figs. I’ve never seen anything like it.

The hostess leads us to a square table where a woman with a long, graceful neck sits, decked head to toe in couture. The flowing black silk billows around her ultra-thin frame as she bends to receive a kiss from my brother. "Gisele, this is my sister."

Gisele turns her stunning face to mine. "Hi, it’s wonderful to finally meet you."

She forgoes my handshake and stands, hugging me. I return her embrace with a laugh. "Me too. How are you?"

"Sit, sit," Gisele says. "I want to hear all about you."

Surprised by her warmth, I take my chair and smooth the dress over my thighs. Henry sits, grabbing the wine list. A rosy cocktail drink garnished with a tiny mint leaf rests in front of Gisele. As Henry orders a glass of Pinot, I glance at the cocktails. Everything’s at least thirteen bucks.

"The drinks are marvelous," Gisele says. "I always beg Henry to make reservations whenever I visit. Have you ever been here?"

"I can’t remember the last time I’ve eaten at a restaurant with over two dollar signs on Yelp." Even with my salary at the firm, I would’ve never been able to afford a place like this. It makes me feel guilty for being a burden to Henry. I know we’ll leave here with him paying the bill, and he’s got more than enough to go around, but I push the cocktail list away. "I think I’ll pass."

Though the blood-orange margarita looks freaking amazing.

Gisele’s husky voice lifts in surprise. "You’re sure? They’re delicious. Everything’s locally sourced, and they make their own shrubs and infused liquors."

"Yeah, I’ll just have water."

"Suit yourself. I’m getting my drank on."

Which sounds hilarious in her thick accent. "Where are you from?"

"Italy," she says, stirring the straw in her glass. "Your brother and I met in a photo shoot. Did he tell you?"

"Yeah, he mentioned it."

She grasps my arm. "He asked me on a date. Actually, he told my assistant to ask me out." She laughs at my brother’s expense, who frowns. "And I said yes because I’d been with way too many cocky guys. Why not give him a chance, you know?"

Henry takes his wife’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "She doesn’t need to hear the whole story."

"What?" Gisele’s smile betrays the tone in her voice. "I’m trying to make your sister comfortable."

"I am!" My elbows stiffen as a waiter leans over my shoulder, refilling my glass. "Really."

She pushes her drink in front of me. "Take a sip. I insist."

My brother’s wife is warm and friendly. I thought he’d marry someone cold like him, but Gisele is a delight to be around. I’d relax, but even she can’t make me at ease in this place. It’s beautiful, and I don’t belong here. The contents of the menu escape me, and the prices of the small plates are way beyond reasonable. Feigning a stomach upset, I point at the fifteen-dollar heirloom tomato salad.

"Oh, you poor thing!" Gisele digs through her purse, dropping a piece of candy on the table. "Take this. It’s ginger—it helps."

Smiling, I unwrap the sweet and pop it in my mouth. Gisele watches me intently. "I’ve bugged Henry to meet you for weeks."

I choke. "Really?"

"Yes. I'd no idea he had a sister until your aunt mentioned you."

I gaze at Henry, who has the grace to look ashamed. "Gisele."

"What?" she says, wide-eyed. "It’s strange that you don’t spend time with your family."

"Not all families are close, hon."

Confusion knits her carved eyebrows together. She glances from me to her husband, too polite to ask why. And Henry gives me a meaningful glare: Make her shut up.

"When Mom passed away, everyone took it hard." I suck my bottom lip. The pain of almost ten years ago echoes with my father banishing me. "I guess it fractured the family."

Her eyes gleam. "I see."

Henry opens his mouth, but then the waiter serves the food. My salad is smaller than the palm of my hand, but my appetite is gone anyway.

Gisele pokes at her short ribs, glancing at me with a sorrowful gaze. I wish I could tell her it’s not her fault, but Henry’s glare across the table warns me to keep quiet. If this dinner gets me in his good graces, it’ll be worth it. Right?

Gradually, the mood lightens with Gisele’s brave attempts to engage in conversation. It’s sweet of her to try so hard, but my heart’s not in it. My brother only set this up because his wife wouldn’t stop pestering him. It’s more about placating her than a desire for us to meet, and once again I let my hopes build up. When summer ends, Henry and I will go our separate ways. The salad tastes like paper, and I look through the branches of the fig tree at the night sky, wishing I could be somewhere else. With anyone else.

Henry’s face turns a shade of sour milk. Hands grip my chair as a man leans over my shoulder. "You're sexy as fuck tonight," Grayson whispers in my ear. "How come you don't wear that dress for me?"

Then he kisses my cheek before I can squeak a reply, and Gisele makes an excited shriek. "Grayson! Oh my God!"

Frozen, I watch as Gisele stands and throws her arms around Grayson, who’s smartly dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a brown blazer over a navy button-up shirt. I’ve never seen him in anything but shorts and T-shirts.

"Hey, girl. How’ve you been?" Grayson pats Gisele’s back.

"Good, good. I haven’t heard from you in ages, but I keep seeing your parties in the tabloids." She puts her hands on her hips. "How come you don't invite me?"

Laughter shakes from his chest. "Your husband wouldn’t want you at one of my events."

"I’m Italian, baby. I don’t give a damn about your Topless Tuesdays."

"They’re on Thursdays, but all right. I’ll keep that in mind."

Henry clears his throat. If I weren't trying so hard to get on his good side, I’d find his expression hilarious. "How did you know we’d be here?"

Grayson shrugs. "A little bird told me."

Fuck.

Henry’s accusing stare finds me. Like I knew he’d show up!

Gisele flaps her hands. "Let’s grab a chair."

"Nah, I wouldn’t want to barge in on your dinner," Grayson says.

"Don’t be ridiculous!" Gisele says, yanking one from a nearby table and shoving it beside me. "Sit."

Grayson pauses, speaking with the perfect amount of hesitation. "Well, if you’re sure."

"Yes, of course!" she booms.

Grayson settles into the seat, grinning at Henry when his wife flags the waiter. He mouths at Grayson. "What the hell are you doing?"

Frankly, I’m wondering that too. He’s not planning to make a scene, is he?

"Get me the lobster tail," he tells the server. "And bring me a fruity cocktail. I don’t care what it is." Then he seizes my unfinished salad plate and shovels slices of tomato in his mouth. He makes an orgasmic sound. "Great decision, babe."

His choice of words doesn’t go unnoticed by Gisele. "Wait—you two are dating?"

"No," I blurt. Grayson smiles at me as though I told an adorable joke.

"Wow, I-I think that’s great." She squares her shoulders at her husband, her smile faltering. "Henry, you never said Grayson was going out with your sister."

There’s definitely a note of accusation in her words. "That’s because I didn’t know until now."

I stamp on Grayson’s foot. "We’re not—"

"Oh my God," Gisele says. "Come over for the Fourth of July party. The whole family will be there."

My chest tightens. "My Dad, too?"

Henry intervenes, touching his wife. "Not a good idea."

"Why not?" she says, needled.

Grayson slides an arm around my shoulders. "We’d love to go."

"Actually," Henry cuts in. "We’ve already sent the invitations, and there’s a limited amount of seating at the house."

Aghast, she turns toward her husband. "Give me a break, Henry. There’s more than enough room."

"Yeah," Grayson says. "It’s only a half-hour flight to San Francisco. No big deal."

I'll stab his thigh with my fork. "I can't afford a plane ticket."

Gisele waves me off. "We’ll pay for it."

The table rattles with Henry’s fist slamming into the wood, and Gisele jumps in her seat. "I don’t want him in my life. How many goddamn times do I have to say it?"

Gisele’s eyes slowly fill with tears. "I-I’m sorry."

It breaks my heart. She’s been nothing but nice, and judging from Grayson's horrified expression, he didn’t expect his prank to get this reaction.

And now the whole evening is ruined. "I need to use the restroom. Excuse me."

Wiping my face, I flee past the other tables, ignoring the bathroom stall to descend the stairs. I’m in such a hurry to leave this damn restaurant that I don’t realize I’ve lost a sandal until my foot touches the bare concrete.

Great.

Just fucking great.

A wide-shouldered man bursts from the establishment with a woman’s shoe clutched in his hand. The fans clustered outside roar at the sight of him—Grayson.

Goddamn him.

I sprint into the dark parking lot. He follows me, and so does his pack of followers. Jesus Christ. A bump of fear hits my heart as the mob heads straight for me.

Grayson swears as he glances behind. "Saffie, wait!"

"Thanks for ruining everything!" I scream across the lot.

He catches up, jogging. "That wasn’t my fault. Shit." He faces the group of people screaming for his attention. "Guys, give us some space."

Yeah, like that’ll work. I walk faster, heading toward the lights lining the quiet street and ignoring the concerned looks thrown my way. Grayson grips my elbow, laughing. "Saffie, wait up."

"Will you leave me alone?"

The laughter fades from his eyes. He touches my face, sorrow filling his gaze. "I didn’t think he’d do that. I’m sorry."

"You had to piss him off, huh? I’ve never met my sister-in-law until now, and you ruined it."

"Me? Henry was the one who made shit awkward by snapping at his wife. I’ve known Gisele for years; I wouldn't hurt her like that."

"So what the hell was that?" I stop walking and seize the shoe clenched in his fist, throwing it on the ground. "You were trying to get a rise out of him."

"That was harmless goading."

"By telling him you’re dating his sister? I’m going catch so much shit from him. Thanks for that." I rip my arm from his grasp and head down the street.

"Okay, I’m sorry!"

I wish he’d go away, but his long strides outpace mine, and I can’t sprint in this dress. "What do you want?"

"Let me make it up to you," he says. "We can have a burger or something."

My stomach growls. "I just ate."

"No, you didn’t. I ruined your dinner, and I feel shitty about it."

The restaurant we left glows behind us. "I should go back there."

"You could, but I guarantee it’ll be uncomfortable as hell. Might as well give them space. Send him a text. Tell him you’re sick."

I dig the phone from my purse. "You are an ass."

"You can call me every name you want once I get some food in you." Grayson takes my hand, guiding me into a mom-and-pop diner where I look hilariously out of place. A small group of his fans camp outside the glass.

I slide behind a Formica booth, too miserable to protest when Grayson faces me. His smile irritates me. His very presence pisses me off.

"Why did you say we were dating?"

He buries his amusement. "I did not. She assumed we were."

"You might as well have screamed it from the rooftops." I lean across the table. "Friends with benefits. That’s what we agreed."

"Saffie, I didn’t go there just to poke at Henry. You looked unhappy. I thought I was saving you from an awkward time."

I was upset. The fact he saw that takes the wind out of my sails for a second. "And then you came and made it a hundred times worse. Thanks."

"I know. Sorry."

No, he doesn’t. I’ll most likely be dragged to this Fourth of July party I have no interest in attending because Dad will be there. "The last time I spoke to my father, he told me he would never see me again." Grayson gazes at me, shamefaced. "All I wanted was some semblance of a family, and now my brother hates me."

The waitress brings our food to the table, but even the rich aroma of fat and salt fails to tug at my stomach.

"Why do you give a shit what he thinks? He’s not fit to stand by your side."

I poke at the basket of fries. "He gave me a place to stay."

"Only if you worked as his goddamn maid. Don’t you see how fucked up that is?"

I don’t care. "Look at my life. I’m a broke, out-of-work lawyer with an empty bank account who had to beg her brother for a room in his house."

He touches my hand. "There’s no shame in asking for help."

"For me there is."

"Bullshit. Just because you fell on hard times doesn’t make you a waste of space."

He doesn’t understand. How could a man like Grayson get what I’ve been through? What he’s said about his home life filled me with envy. "It’s my fault Mom died."

Grayson’s voice softens. "What?"

Tears blur my vision, and that somehow makes it easier to keep going. "I was a bad kid. I was always getting into trouble. Dad didn’t know how to handle me. He stopped bringing me on camping trips as soon as Henry was old enough because he couldn’t stand me. They left me behind. I still remember the hole in my chest when I looked out the window and saw them loading up the car with gear without me."

My throat thickens with emotion like it always does whenever I think of that awful day. It’s stupid of me to be this upset over a fucking camping trip, but it’s primal. A childhood trauma rooted deep inside me that wants me to curl into a ball and cry for hours. Every single time.

"Mom tried to make it up to me. She took me to the theme park, the zoo, museums, but nothing distracted from the fact my Dad no longer wanted me around him. He taught me how to fly fish one summer when I was seven. That was the last moment I remember him looking at me without a scowl on his face."

The cheap napkin balls in my fist as I try to stem the flow of tears, but I can’t do it. I’m fucking crying in the middle of a diner, and I can barely hold myself back. It’s like a movie reel of every worst feeling. I can’t turn them off. They run through me, raw. Vivid.

"I—I acted out a lot. Teachers were always calling my parents to report me for my shitty behavior. And then one day they held me in detention for chewing gum in class." A spike of gut-wrenching humor hits me. "She drove to school to pick me up and was killed in a car crash."

Grayson’s hand engulfs mine. "I’m so sorry."

"Everyone was until the morning before the funeral. My dad blamed me for her death and said I would not live at the house anymore. That I was on my own. He would pay for an apartment and my college tuition, but I wasn’t welcome there. I didn’t see Henry again for months, and then only a few times a year for holidays. After a while, I stopped going back. No one wanted me there."

Grayson squeezes me. "They sound like a bunch of assholes. You’re better off without them."

I wipe the wetness from my cheeks, glaring at him. "You don’t know that." I bury my face in my hands. God, this is so humiliating, and I didn’t mean to blurt my life story, but once I started, I couldn’t stop. Tears slip through the cracks of my fingers, and I feel a sudden thump as a heavy body sits next to me.

Grayson.

He pulls me into his barrel chest. My head fits under his chin. I ball my fists against him, but he holds me. Grayson tips me back and kisses me. It’s not carnal like the passion we shared on the beach, but full of warmth. He strokes my hair, fooling me into believing that I mean something. A gust of startled butterflies replaces the pain.

The last unbroken rule dangles from a precarious edge.

Don’t fall in love.