A soul could wither up and die in that kind of life, Remi realized. Even if he wanted her to stay. Even if she gave it her all, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t find themselves in a similar position. And when it ended, everything would be different.

“You look like you could use this,” Darius said, appearing at her side with a frothy orange drink.

“Me?”

“Yes, Ms. Paler Than a Snowman. What’s wrong? Is it your asthma?”

“It’s not my asthma.” It was her stupid freaking heart trying to break itself to pieces over the same man for a third time. “When are people going to stop treating me like an invalid?”

“Maybe when you stop looking so Disney princess-eyed and fragile?”

“Eww. Shut up.”

He nudged her shoulder. “What are we wasting our time bickering for when there’s a dance floor begging for us to wow it?”

Remi drained her drink and did what she did best, blocked out everything but the present moment. “Let’s show ’em what we’ve got.”

After a few energetic laps around the dance floor, Darius deposited her in her brother-in-law’s arms and headed back to the bar.

“Hey,” Remi said.

“Hey yourself.” Kyle Olson’s nickname when Kimber met him was Pretty Boy. It still fit. He had neatly coiffed blond hair, wore dark suits with skinny ties, and flashed a charming smile that disarmed juries and—at one time—her own sister.

Brick walked past them and leveled her with a heated glare that made her feel like her dress was on fire.

“How’s your friend’s novel going?”

Remi missed a beat and stepped on Kyle’s foot.

“My what? Oh! It’s good. Good.”

“You had me worried that you were in some kind of trouble.” Kyle was a trial lawyer. He had a bullshit meter that was more sensitive than most.

“Speaking of worried,” she said, dodging his unasked question, “what is going on with you and my sister?”

His jaw tightened. “I wish I knew.”

“You’re going to work this out,” she said firmly. They had been so in love once. The idea that it could all just disappear was heartbreaking.

“I would if I knew what the problem was. Every time I ask her, she shuts down.”

“Do you ask her like her super cute husband who cares about her and wants her to be happy, or do you ask her like she’s a hostile witness under cross-examination?”

His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “There’s a difference?”

“Ha. But seriously.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Kimber said into a microphone borrowed from the DJ booth. “It’s time for a walk down memory lane.”

Darlene perched on Gil’s lap, each with a glass of champagne, and gestured for Remi to sit next to them.

“Get over here, Brick,” Darlene said, waving him over. “Join the family.”

Remi’s body tingled as he took the chair behind her.

When the lights dimmed, Brick tugged her chair backward until she was caged in between his long legs. His warm, rough palm cupped the back of her neck possessively, and she relaxed. His touch was a drug that could soothe and arouse.