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"You two are disgustingly cute," Vail announces. "I'm going to find my husband before I throw up."

She leaves us alone in the locker room.

Regnor's hand stays on my waist, steadying.

"How was your shift?"

"Fine. Busy." I lean into him without thinking, drawn to his presence. "Saved a guy's life."

"That's my girl," he murmurs, and something warm unfurls in my chest. "Ready for tonight?"

"I guess. Though being around all that food..." I touch my stomach unconsciously. "This kid has opinions about everything."

"Still nauseous?"

"All day, every day." I try for a light tone. "Doctor says it should ease up soon."

"We can skip tonight if you're not feeling up to it."

The offer is tempting.

Hide in my apartment, curl up on the couch, pretend the outside world doesn't exist.

But that's not how this works.

We're selling a story, and that means being seen together.

"No, I should go. Besides, Fern would kill me if I missed her party."

"Fair point." He grins, and it transforms his face. "Come on then. Let's go face the masses."

The drive to the clubhouse is comfortable.

Regnor tells me about his day, some issue with a shipment that needed sorting.

I half-listen, distracted by how natural this feels.

How easily we've slipped into these roles.

The clubhouse is already crowded when we arrive.

Twinkling lights string across the ceiling, a massive tree in the corner, the smell of cinnamon and pine competing with leather and beer.

It looks almost magical.

Like a Hallmark movie had a baby withSons of Anarchy.

"Everly!" Fern swoops down on us the moment we enter. "Perfect timing. I hate to ask, but would you mind running to the store? I forgot the whipped cream for the pies, and you know how Arik gets if there's no whipped cream."

Something about her words triggers déjà vu so strong I sway.

The grocery store.

Dylan.

Thanksgiving.

"Hey." Regnor's arm comes around me. "You okay?"