Page 68 of Make Me Yours

Because I am.

And I’ll make damn sure she never has to doubt it.

21

LILAH

The second Rina hooks her arm through mine and steers me toward the buffet, I know I’m about to get interrogated.

“Okay, spill,” she hisses. “Has anything happened between you and Steele?”

I choke on a laugh, trying to play it off even as my heart does this weird little stutter.

“Of course not,” I say, giving a breezy wave of my hand. “It’s not like that between us.”

Only, the words ring a little hollow even to my own ears.

Because lately, everything feels like it’s shifting under my feet.

The way he looks at me.

And the way I catch myself looking back.

Or how being close to him no longer feels safe the way it used to.

Instead, it feels electric.

Dangerous.

Rina arches a brow, clearly not buying a single word.

Before she can press me further, we spot Callie setting out fresh platters of desserts on one of the banquet tables. She’s inmotion, rearranging trays with the kind of graceful focus I envy, her hair pulled back in a loose braid that keeps slipping over her shoulder.

“Hey, girl!” Rina chirps, dragging me along.

Callie looks up, her face brightening when she sees us. “Hey! You both look absolutely gorgeous!”

We lean over to check out the spread. There are mini cheesecakes, chocolate tarts, and delicate sugar cookies iced to perfection.

“Everything looksincredible,” I tell her, meaning it.

Rina nods. “Seriously. You killed it.”

Callie smiles, but there’s a flicker of nerves in her expression as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and offers a small shrug. “Honestly, I almost didn’t take the job,” she admits. “I wasn’t sure about working an event where Zane would be. But the money was too good to pass up, and I need it now more than ever.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” Rina says. “It’s an amazing opportunity for people to sample the kind of desserts you make. Who knows where it might lead?”

“I’m so proud of you,” I add. “I know it’s not easy to be around him and…” I trail off as the person we’ve been discussing walks toward us. “Incoming.”

“Hey, Callie,” Zane says as he strolls up, his arm slung around a petite blonde woman whose dress is almost nonexistent. It takes effort not to stare at her nipples, which are clearly visible through the sheer material. She’s all perfect makeup, designer shoes, and an air of practiced disinterest.

“Hello, ladies.” He nods at us, like we’re fans he’s generously acknowledging.

We murmur stiff hellos, neither of us making an effort to hide our frostiness.

Zane either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Probably a mixture of both. He’s always been all about himself.

He turns to the blonde at his side and says, “This is Callie, my kid’s mother.”