He smirked. “It’s funny how things work out.”

“How’s your dad these days?” she asked.

“Good. Real good. Started his own business. Seems to be keeping out of trouble with the law. We talk a lot. I think he’s trying to make up for all the Before years.”

Remi’s gaze slid to the bar where Brick and Darius were working the taps in tandem. “Does Brick talk to him?”

“Nah. He wrote Dad off before the prison door slammed shut on him. In Brick’s mind, both our parents up and left us. I was always glad he had your family. Your mom was the one who talked him into applying for the force.”

Remi nodded. “I remember. Good crowd tonight,” she said, changing the subject.

“I thought maybe Audrey would come back for the first,” Spencer said, his eyes flicking to the door.

“Hey, how come you two never got together?”

“Me and Audrey?” His shock was 100 percent fake.

“You had a crush on her in high school,” she pointed out.

“That was just kid stuff,” he insisted, taking a giant swallow of his drink. “Is that Travis Mailer over there? I’ll be right back.”

Remi watched him run away from her question. She was just reaching for her drink when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

It was a text from Brick. She thought about ignoring it, then decided she was wasting too much energy and opened it.

It was a link to a news article, and she nearly spit her drink out when she read the headline.

Senator’s wife holds ‘no ill-will’ toward artist that caused accident.

With shaking hands, she opened the article and skimmed it.

“Camille Vorhees…recently released from the hospital…”

“I hold no ill-will toward Alessandra Ballard for causing the accident. The tragic events have made me even more grateful for my husband and the life we’re blessed to lead. We are both happy she is getting the help she needs and hope everyone will respect her privacy at this time.”

There was a photo of Camille in front of the fireplace in the library of her Chicago home, looking hauntingly fragile in an ivory sheath. Somehow she made being on crutches look elegant.

Dizzy and sick. Oddly relieved. Her body started to shake, her teeth chattered.

The press of the crowd was too much. The music too loud. She needed a moment to breathe. Weaving her way through tables and warm bodies, she veered off down the hallway toward the restrooms.

She’d sneak up to the second floor and have her meltdown in private. The office door opened just as she was walking past it. Brick filled the doorway, and her feet rooted to the floor. He looked furious. But she didn’t want to deal with this. With him.

She shook her head and forced her feet into motion. But she didn’t make it a second step past him. His hand closed around her wrist with a stinging grip, and she found herself being yanked back into the office. He used her own body to force the door shut before pinning her to the wood with his hips.