I add water to both vases but bring the silver flower upstairs to my bedside table. The petals are so delicate, so ethereal. Who knew Ronan could be so thoughtful?

By the time I return to the front door, I find not one suitor, but two.

Trevor stands shoulder to shoulder with Ronan, the two of them trading glares. In his hands, he clutches a brown paper package wrapped with twine.

“Trevor. Hi. I thought we were meeting tomorrow.” Tell me I didn’t get my days mixed up.

His head swings toward me so quickly, his spectacles slide to the end of his nose. “We are, but I bought you a gift and thought I would bring it by.” He shoves his glasses back and then extends the package across the threshold.

So many gifts today, you’d swear it was my birthday. Less than five weeks left and it will be. Is one of these men my future husband? The thought makes my stomach burn with indecision. Good thing I still have time to choose.

Inside the package is a book. I run my fingers over the cracked leather binding and the faded gold foil title. Unseelie Fae: A Scientific Study.

Ronan snorts and folds his arms across his chest as he scowls at the tome. “Why the hell would you give her that?”

“Because she asked if the library had any books on the Unseelie. The only copy was already on loan, so I bought her this one.”

“Thank you, Trevor. This is such a thoughtful present.” And it couldn’t come at a better time. After what happened yesterday, I’m more curious than ever.

“If it gives you nightmares, I’d be more than happy to keep you company after the sun falls,” Ronan offers, pushing off the doorframe.

“I’m certain I will be fine.” This is a book of science, not some terrifying horror tale. I set the book on the table next to the boxes and grab the parasol Aunt Cordelia loaned me. “Shall we go?”

Ronan offers his arm with a muttered, “We’ll see you later, Trev,” tossed over his shoulder. What he doesn’t realize is that I can see him flashing my other suitor the middle finger.

There goes all the goodwill he earned with the flower and pie. “Actually, why don’t you come along, Trevor? The more the merrier, right, Ronan?”

From the way he gawks, you’d swear I asked the prince to shave his head. It takes Ronan a whole ten seconds to stop blustering and respond with a choked, “Of course.”

The walk is tense, one man asking me a question, followed by a completely unrelated question from the other. It’s like holding two different conversations at the same time.

Ronan wants to know about my favorite food; Trevor asks if I have a favorite author.