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“I was stress baking,” she explains, stepping back to let me in. The kitchen smells like cinnamon and warmth and everything I have to stay away from.
She leads me to her couch, her hazel eyes soft, sitting close enough that our knees touch. “Tell me everything.”
So I tell her about Jaxson’s investigation, Marcus’s pattern of destroying companies, and the evidence they’re gathering. I tell her how he needs time to build a case strong enough to stop him.
“Jaxson thinks it’s safer if we... if I keep my distance from you,” I finish, watching her face carefully. “Marcus may have people watching, and if he suspects anything...”
“Hey.” She takes my hand, threading our fingers together. “I get it. You need a little time—then it will be over.”
“I have to play along,” I say roughly. “The engagement dinner is this weekend. And I can’t be seen with you, can’t risk Marcus figuring out the way I feel—“
“Luke.” She cups my face with her free hand. “I understand. Truly. Do what you need to do to protect your family’s company.”
I lean forward, resting my forehead against hers. “Thank you for understanding.” Then I brush away the dusting of flour on her cheek with my lips.
“You’re welcome,” she teases, but her voice catches. “Just... be careful. Marcus Davidson doesn’t strike me as someone who loses gracefully.”
“Three weeks,” I promise. “Then I’m taking you on a proper date. No complications, no pretending, just us.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” She kisses me softly, briefly. “Now go. Before I try to convince you to stay.”
Standing, I turn to her one last time, not wanting to leave. “Lila...”
“I know.” She wraps her arms around herself. “Me too.”
Leaving out the back, I somehow feel lighter. Because even though I can’t see her, can’t be with her, at least she knows the truth. At least she understands.
Three weeks. I can do anything for three weeks. I just hope Lila will still be waiting for me when it’s over.
Nineteen
Lila
It’s Friday night, and I throw myself into preparations for the MAD charity event. I’m grateful for the distraction of menu planning and staff coordination. Every time my phone buzzes, my heart jumps—but it’s never Luke. It can’t be him because he’s being extra cautious not to give Marcus any warning about what’s coming.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Jenny says, catching me staring at my phone for the hundredth time.
“What thing?”
“That sad puppy dog face.” She helps me unload supplies at the event venue—a ballroom at one of the high-end hotels near the river that Hunter Henson and his team have transformed into something magical. “Did you and Luke… uh, your neighbor have a fight?”
“No.” I focus on arranging appetizer plates. “Everything’s fine.”
“Right.” She draws out the word. “That’s why he’s suddenly engaged to Crystal Davidson, and you’re stress-cooking enough food to feed an army.”
“The food is for the charity event,” I remind her. “Speaking of which, where’s Emily and Kendrick? They promised to arrive early for moral support.”
“Nice dodge,” Jenny says deadpan. “When they get here, I’ll point them in your direction. But don’t think I didn’t notice how you changed the subject.”
Before I can respond, Rebel Henson, Hunter’s wife, approaches me. She’s as curvy as I am, with dark hair, eyes, and deep dimples when she smiles—which seems to be often.
“Lila! The food looks and smells amazing!”
“Thanks.” I welcome the interruption. “The passed appetizers will start circulating at six, dinner service at seven-thirty...”
“Perfect.” Rebel surveys the space. “Hunter’s stuck on a call, but Paige is bringing the auction items soon. We’ve already sold more tickets than last year!”
Emily and Kendrick arrive, looking sleek and stylish in their gowns. I quickly give them a hug, avoiding their sympathetic gaze. I’m soon lost in final preparations but grateful for the busy work. The venue fills with volunteers, then early arrivals, and now I’m in my element—directing servers, monitoring food temperatures, and ensuring everything runs smoothly.