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“The origins of my relationship with my wife weren’t the best,” he admits.

Now I’m the one who’s curious. “What do you mean?”

“I hated her.” He doesn’t even hesitate with his answer, his tone vehement. “She hated me. But we were drawn together despite all the bad blood between us. Her mother had an affair with my father and broke up my parents’ marriage. Not that their marriage was solid. My mother was a complete sociopath, God rest her soul.”

I’m blinking, absorbing his words, realizing they sound faintly familiar. Not the sociopathic mother part, but the hating part.

“Why did you hate her? Because of her mother?”

“Yes, and everything she represented to me back then. Summer showed up at Lancaster Prep the first day of senior year and I did everything I could to make her life a living hell. It worked too—mostly. But no matter how far I took it, I never broke her and that impressed me. Her strength impressed me, as well as her beauty. God, I sound like an asshole.” He shakes his head, his smile faint.

“You sound like your son,” I admit, realizing that they are far more similar than I thought.

“Lancaster men aren’t good with their feelings. We’re like a five-year-old boy at recess who chases that one girl. Pulls her hair when she’s not looking. Always calling her names and pushing her away. That’s how we show our love at first.” Whit slowly shakes his head. “I’m guessing my son did something like that to you.”

“He bullied me throughout my freshman year at Lancaster Prep and now claims he doesn’t remember.” The disgust in my voice is out in full force.

“We’re idiots.” Whit sits up and leans across the table, resting his arms on the edge of it. “He’s an idiot. You can go ahead and say it. August is an idiot.”

“He is.”

“Then say it.”

“August is an idiot,” I repeat, immediately feeling terrible for insulting this man’s son, even if it was at his request. “But I think I’m in love with him.”

His expression softens just the slightest. “You think?”

I shrug, feeling silly. “I’m not sure. I’ve never been in love before.”

“Neither has he. You two can figure it out together.” His gazeturns hawklike. “There’s a saying in our family that once you know, you know. And I’m positive you’ll work it out. August doesn’t give up easily. Once he’s locked in, he’s in for life.”

That statement is both reassuring and…

Terrifying.

After breakfast I wander around the house but can’t find August anywhere. Anxious, I go back to my room and put on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, plus my running shoes and head outside for a walk. The air is cold and crisp, the sky a pure, clear blue and it feels good to get some fresh air and wander around the impressive neighborhood the Lancasters live in. The estates are walled off so you can’t see the homes or their yards that well. Only through the wrought-iron gates can I stop and take a peek, and every home I can see is absolutely gorgeous, with perfectly manicured lawns and fancy cars sitting in the driveways. My parents will die when they see this place.

Speaking of my parents, I remember that I have a missed call from my mom earlier this morning and I pull out my phone, calling her back.

“There you are!” is how she greets me. “Are you there? At the Lancaster house?”

“I am.” I turn around and start heading back in the direction I came. “You’re still on for tonight?”

A small part of me wants them to back out, but there’s no way Mom would ever do that. “We definitely are. We’ll be there promptly at six.”

“Even with Dad?” I’m teasing because we both know my father is perpetually late.

“Even with your dad. I told him he can’t be late for this. We have Lancasters to impress.” Mom sounds positively giddy atthat little fact. She is beyond thrilled this dinner is happening tonight. “He’s excited to meet them.”

“Please don’t let him be too overbearing,” I practically groan, coming to a stop when I see August’s car coming down the street. The ridiculous engine roars and the car slows as he turns it toward the gate, waiting for the doors to swing open before he pulls inside.

Where was he? What has he been doing?

“You know I can’t control that man! He’s going to do and say what he wants.” She heaves an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll text you when we’re on our way. Everything going well over there?”

“Um…” Not really. “Sure. It’s been great.”

“I have a feeling you two are going to end up getting serious,” Mom singsongs. “Oh what a story this will be someday! My daughter and how she ended up with the young man from one of the country’s wealthiest families.”