It had been four weeks since Serena’s heart attack and surgery, and Evan and I spoke every single day. We had dinner together most nights, and our friendship deepened with every day that passed. He really was an amazing man.

Evan had invited me to dinner at his parents’ house this evening because they wanted to meet me, and I had a sudden rush of butterflies with attention deficit disorder in my stomach as we walked up the cobblestone pathway to a freaking mansion. The last extremely rich asshole I’d met had been Axel’s father, and we all knew how well that had turned out.

“Just a warning,” he whispered just before he knocked on the huge, wooden front door, which was so glossy that I was sure it was spit-shined at least twice a day. “My father is a bit of a jerk, so don’t be offended if he’s rude to you.”

“Great. Now I’m not nervous at all,” I snarked, and Evan gave me a reassuring smile.

“I’ll be right here beside you,” he said, gripping my hand tightly.

We were greeted by a butler in tails. A butler?! For real? “Good evening, Mr. Cavanaugh, Miss Atwood. Please come in. Mr. and Mrs. Cavanaugh will receive you in the parlor.”

“I’ve never been in a parlor before,” I whispered out of the side of my mouth to Evan. “I feel like I should have worn something a bit more debutante.”

He covered his mouth to suppress a laugh before hissing, “Behave! You look gorgeous.” I was wearing the charcoal gray Calvin Klein suit that I had worn to all my medical school interviews, and I hoped I looked classy enough for dinner at a mansion complete with parlors and a butler. My black heels, which I had purchased on sale at a Nordstrom outlet, clacked loudly on the perfectly shined brown and gold tiled floor, forcing me to try and walk on my tiptoes. Jesus, these people were crazy rich, and I was so far out of my depth, I was afraid I would drown.

The next hour was nothing like I expected. I was pleasantly surprised that Evan’s father, Earl, was kind, sweet, and charming. He literally fawned over me. Evan kept shooting me I have no clue what’s happening here looks as his father smiled and laughed freely at everything I said. When I asked to use the ladies’ room, Evan said he would show me where it was and stood, resting his hand lightly on my back as we left the luxurious parlor. I was glad because a person could get lost in this fucking palace.

“I have no freaking idea who that man is,” he whispered as we walked down the long corridor lined with gold-framed paintings of creepy old people. “He looks like my father, but I’m not sure what that thing on his face is.”