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“Life’s full of tough choices,” Rosalee said. Cal noticed the empty champagne flute dangling from her hand, which might explain why Rosalee was talking to her at all. She sighed. “It can’t have been easy coming back here.”

“It wasn’t.”

Rosalee sucked her teeth and nodded. “And yet, here you are. And the longer you’re here, the more you become a part of the furniture.”

Cal could see Lucy on the other side of the room, Mrs. Gupta had caught her and was talking to her about something. Just for an instant she could feel like Lucy was hers, like she was hers to rescue, hers to have, hers to hold. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she said to Rosalee.

“It means…” Rosalee gave the biggest of sighs. “It means that we’re not bad people, Cal. Whatever you might think. You did something wrong, and you know you did. And people are going to talk about it, people are going to dislike you for it. But… but if you’d stayed, then it would all have blown over by now, wouldn’t it?”

Cal looked at her.

“I suppose I’m saying that you’ve done the worst part. You’ve come back. You’ve faced people. It’ll only get easier from now on. You can make up for the past, show people who you are now. Imean, if that’s what you want.”

Lucy was gliding across the room now and Cal couldn’t look at Rosalee anymore. She could feel her heart beating harder. Maybe Rosalee was right. Maybe she had already done the hardest part. Maybe she could stay, not sell the house at all.

“Dance?” Lucy said, holding out her hand.

Cal let herself take it, let her fingers intertwine with Lucy’s, feeling her skin. The possibility of staying lingered in her mind. “Yeah, let’s dance,” she said.

One three-minute song. That’s how long it lasted. One three-minute song and then Cal was pulling away, remembering that this wasn’t her. Remembering that she was broken and didn’t do relationships. Remembering that she had a rule about these things.

“Who invited her?”

She turned around to see Mikey Hadley sneering at her, tie loose and hair askew, half-cut already.

“I did,” Lucy said, pushing her way in front of Cal. “You got a problem with that, Mikey?”

Mikey glared at Cal, then looked back at Lucy, shaking his head. “Nah, no problem.”

“That’s what I thought,” Lucy said, pulling Cal back off the dance floor.

She couldn’t have Lucy defending her honor all the time, could she? Besides, Lucy had her own life to live. She was going to London. So anything else was purely a pipe dream. No, short term, that was the deal and Cal was going to stick to it.

Anything longer and she’d screw it up anyway.

She followed Lucy through the crowd of people, watching the way her body moved under her dress, the way her dark hair sparkled in the lights, feeling her hand so comforting and warm.

Obviously, she could stop this whenever she wanted. Stop it and walk away. Just like with everyone else, every other woman she’d ever met. Lucy was no different.

For a second she had a memory of Lucy pushing her to the bed, pushing her legs apart, and a deep warmth bloomed insideher. Not that she was necessarily used to women taking control like that. That was new. Different. Enjoyable, if she was being honest.

The fact remained that they were on a deadline.

They finally reached the edge of the dancefloor and Lucy pulled her in, close enough that Cal could feel the curves of her body. “Pen and Ash will be cutting the cake soon,” she said, her words breathed into Cal’s ear.

Cal put her hands on Lucy’s waist, let her thumbs graze her hipbones. “I like cake,” she said, leaning into Lucy’s smell.

“I thought maybe we could go after that?”

Cal pulled back a little to see Lucy’s anxious face, her eyes wide. “Go? Go where?”

“Home?” Lucy said, pushing her hips into Cal’s hand.

The implications were very clear. As was the word home. A word that Cal’s libido was not going to allow her to argue with just at the moment.

“Ah,” she said. “I see. Well… I can only dance so much.”

Lucy grinned at her and Cal’s heart skipped a beat.