“Shocker,” Dom snorts out. “Don’t worry, I’ll make them behave.”

The inside of the Graveses’ home is just as impressive and grand as the outside. All wooden floors, chandeliers, plush carpets, and upholstered sofas. As if sensing my insecurity, Dom presses a hand to the small of my back and drops a kiss to the crown of my head. “You’re doing great, babe,” he whispers as we follow his mother. “She loves you.”

When we walk into the informal living room, we find that it is empty. Gemma parks her balled fists against her waist and frowns. “Why, they were here just a second ago. Now, where in the heck did those two disappear to?”

She peers behind Dom and me, and her face breaks into another huge smile. “Oh, there they are.”

And then I feel it. A brewing storm. The small hairs on my arms stand on end, like lightning is about to strike. I want to fall to my knees and bend forward, dodge being electrocuted.

But I know it’s too late. That thunder has already struck me.

All it takes is for me to turn around.

I swivel on my heel. And then I see him.

Seph Graves is standing in front of me; only I don’t know him as Seph Graves at all.

I know him as Joe. My Joe.

My lost love and my downfall is my boyfriend’s younger brother.

The limb I’ve been missing these past six years.

He is here. In the flesh.

And he looks gutted to see me.

Every single one of the Graves family members is staring at me right now, but I can’t get a word out of my mouth. I’m thunderstruck, my face probably whiter than a sheet.

All I can do is stare at Joe/Seph. His face is all bricked up. A cold, icy demeanor I’ve never seen on him before. It makes him look unlike Joe, which I understand is an idiotic thing to think. I don’t even know him. Maybe that’s his usual face. Maybe he always looks like he wants to punch his way through a crowd.

Oh, God. I need to throw up.

“Babe? Are you okay?” Dom rubs soothing circles over my back, frowning.

I nod weakly, forcing myself to snap out of it.

“Yes . . . yes! Sorry, I’m Everlynne.” I reach to shake Mr. Graves’s hand first. I cannot process what he looks like. Tall, I assume, since I have to extend my neck to smile up at him. There’s a mustache and a cardigan, too, behind the blurry cloud of panic forming in front of my eyes. The only thing that seems to be on portrait mode, sharp as a razor, is Joe’s face.

“Hello.” Mr. Graves is curt. Nothing like his human ball of sunshine of a wife. “I’m Brad. Nice of you to join us.”