“The problem is, I don’t know how to do this. Not with him. He’s too … resplendent.”

She laughed. “What?”

“He’s larger than life, somewhere above us all. He’s got the gravity of the sun, Ivy. No one can match him. No one can be equal to a man like that.”

She made a face. “How are you turning something good into something bad? This is not a bad thing. I’d like to state for the record that I’ve never seen you so happy and carefree as you have been the last few days. When was the last time you organized the supply drawers?”

I opened my mouth to answer but paused, realizing it had been weeks. “There hasn’t been time.”

“When was the last time you made a list? Stressed over your pictures for Instagram? Worried over your dad? Mrs. Bennet?”

My brows drew together when I frowned. “I … I don’t know.”

“And when was the last time you slept in? Did something spontaneous? Laughed until you cried?”

I blinked. “Today. I did all that today.”

“And that’s because of Luke. Just like you haven’t seen him forget something, show up late, give up on a project. He’s been the picture of dependability. And that’s because of you.”

I stared at her, stunned.

“I mean, he’s still immature, but that’s just a male Bennet genetic trait.”

A laugh burst out of me. “You … you’re right.”

“I know I’m right. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

Before I could answer, I heard the cart squeaking toward us. Ivy nodded at me, her face softening. She pulled me into a hug.

“I love you, Tess. Stop fighting.”

I held her close, breathed deep the scent of roses and peonies. Then I let her out, locking the door behind her.

And I turned to face my fate, which lay in the hands of the last man I’d ever thought I’d give such power.

LUKE

My smile died when I saw the look on Tess’s face.

It was somewhere between facing a firing squad and getting caught naked in public. Wide, dark eyes. Lush lips flat. Neck long as a swan, on full display, her auburn hair piled high on her head.

“You okay, Tess?” I asked, my brow furrowed and dread gripping my heart. It raced against the feeling.

For two weeks, I’d been waiting for this, whatever it was. A hammer to fall. A shoe to drop. A dozen times, I’d tried to talk to her, to define what we were, to have the dreaded relationship talk. But I never did. Partly because I didn’t know what to say. Partly because I had the undeniable feeling she would reject me the second I put her on the spot.

But the unspoken words underscored every moment, every word, swam in the undercurrents of a joke, an offhanded observation. She didn’t think I was serious, didn’t believe me to be capable. I was a fling, but I was a friend. We’d spent every minute together that we could for weeks, and not strictly because of proximity.