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I retrieve her cake from the fridge in the chef’s kitchen myself and let her plate it, just to keep her busy. And after dessert with my family, I see everyone out the front door. I need all the people out of my house. My siblings take off, and I have Quinn driven home.

I don’t think about that kiss one more time.

I think about it many, many times. All damn night, and the next day.

And for many days after.

Obsessively.

She touched her tongue to my lip.

She licked me.

Tastedme.

You don’t use tongue unless you mean it, right?

On Thursday morning, I go into the office early, as usual, but I can barely focus on work. The morning is half over before I realize I’ve gotten little done. I stared at the wall through two meetings.

The only thing I hate more than meetings are parties—and basically any occasion that Quinn makes cakes for, including awkward apologies—but I’ve had my team book me solid with meetings this week. I’m trying to occupy my mind with work and other people’s voices, instead of the incessant one in my head that keeps telling me to replay that kiss.

It’s not working.

Alone in my office after useless meeting number two, I try to focus on the financial statements for Crave bakery that Brant placed on my desk.

Printed out on paper.

I’ve been avoiding the internet and every device I own, because the temptation to look at Quinn online or pore over those surveillance images on my hard drive is too strong.

I just want to forget about her, and my entire challenge. Move on with the next person’s challenge. I keep telling myself I’ll feel better then.

But Damian left town after the dinner at my place, and Jameson left the next day. Apparently, no one put much stock in the idea that I’d actually finish my challenge eleven days early. We can’t draw the next name from the box until they both get back, the day after tomorrow, and we can all meet up. We agreed to draw each challenge together.

It’s making me uneasy, the waiting.

As far as my siblings know, I successfully completed my challenge five nights ago, well within my allotted thirty days.

I introduced them to Darla.

Jameson even called me the next day to congratulate me more sincerely—and admit that he was the one who devised mychallenge. He actually told me he was impressed that I came through.

But is the challenge really complete? I’ve earned my inheritance in my siblings’ eyes—but at what cost? The challenge was completed on a lie. A lie that’s much worse than the original lie I told them that I was “holding out for Darla.”

Because what if they find out?

It’s not the lie that troubles me, exactly. It’s not knowing if it will hold. Or if my siblings will somehow glean that my relationship with “Darla,” the woman they met at dinner, doesn’t exist.

It’s been eating at me ever since the dinner. I’ve barely slept. I can’t stop thinking about the lie, the truth, the things Quinn said to my family at dinner.

Her.

I like things black and white.

I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about this chatty, cheerful woman with turquoise hair.

I just don’t like loose ends.

I run my thumb over the diamond tennis bracelet in my pocket, over and over. The one she left behind at my place, in the hallway, where I kissed her.