“I only think it’s funny that you have me pegged so incorrectly.”

“Tell me where I’m wrong and I’ll gladly eat crow.”

“I care for your granddaughter.”

She rolls her eyes as if she doesn’t believe me, and I decide I might find better success with a different approach.

“Did you marry Lainey’s grandfather because you loved him or because it was expected of you?”

Her shoulders stiffen. “It was a different time…”

I sit quietly, making it clear she hasn’t answered my question.

She continues impatiently. “My marriage was arranged, and to be frank, it was the last thing I wanted, but I placed duty above self-interest, and I have no regrets about that.”

“I respect that, but I could never do the same.”

“Marry someone you didn’t love?”

I balk at the idea. “Never.”

“So that was the issue with your betrothal to Lainey?”

“Not at all.”

She frowns then, annoyance evident across her face.

“Stop circling the truth and spit it out.”

“I think it would be best if I spoke to Lainey first.” I stand up and apologize for the quick visit.

Jacobs hasn’t even returned with the coffees, but if Lainey isn’t here, I see no reason to stay.

“Please tell her I stopped by.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Lainey

It’s New Year’s Eve, and Collette’s invited me to a party, mostly out of pity. I’ve been sulking at the gallery all day, and she assumes I’ve hit a rough patch with Emmett. I can’t bear to tell her the actual truth of what’s going on, not that it matters; her guess is close enough. We’ve definitely hit a rough patch. My grandmother told me about his morning visit, and it only infuriated me more. He had every opportunity to come talk to me for months before that.

“I know you’re about to say no,” Collette says, holding up her hand to stop me from answering right away. “But it’s going to be low key, just friends and a few others you’d probably recognize. We rented out this swanky little bar and it’ll be packed to the gills, so if there’s someone you’re trying to avoid, I bet you wouldn’t even see him. There’ll be enough strangers there that you could totally stay anonymous if you wanted to, you know, pretend to be someone else for a night.”

“I have nothing to wear.”

She tips her face down so she can stare at me from beneath her brows, thoroughly unimpressed with the lack of creativity in my excuse.

“We live in Boston. There are like ten boutiques on this block alone.”

“Still, I don’t know when I—”

“We’ll go at lunch.”

I clasp my hands on top of the counter. I had plans to watch the ball drop in the comfort of my home, dressed in pajamas and slippers, but this sounds infinitely more fun.

“Okay.”

She raises her eyebrows.

“What?”

I laugh. “Okay, I’ll go.”

“You’re joking.”

“No. I’ll find a dress at lunch.”

“I’ll help!”