When they finally remember they’re not the only two people in the room, Dempsey turns to me and grins.

“Maddie—this is my friend Brooke. Brooke, this is Maddie.”

Brooke. The Brooke? Holy shit. This is Brooke.

I rise to stand and offer her my hand as we not-so-subtly assess each other. She’s gorgeous—dressed in this striking silky pant suit with her dark brown hair twisted into an intricate crown on her head.

Her eyes aren’t unkind, but they aren’t welcoming either. We exchange “nice to meet yous” and she immediately turns back to Dempsey, only regarding me again when she catches him brushing his hand with mine.

I get the innate sense that she wants nothing more than for me to skedaddle, and I’m so out of my element that I’m more than happy to oblige.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” I whisper in Dem’s ear. Not because I actually have to go. But because giving them a few minutes of privacy feels like the right thing to do.

He squeezes my hand once and pecks me on the cheek in a move I know she notices. His hand slides down my back as I angle to move out of the booth, and he fans his hand along the fringe that’s just barely covering my ass as I walk away.

If there was any question about what we are to each other, he just made it perfectly clear.

Or did he?

He introduced me as Maddie, which is fine. But he’s called me his girlfriend on more than one occasion over the last few weeks. He just didn’t say it to her.

I glance back at the two of them, careful to watch my balance as I walk in high heels through the rotating, circular bar. They’re sitting in our booth now, and she’s got a hand resting on his arm. They look like long-lost friends, eager to catch up. That, or former lovers, sprinkling fuel onto embers of the past.

I huff out a sigh of frustration as I push into the ladies’ room. It’s actually harder to pee in this dress than to just hold it—the sacrifices we make for fashion—so I busy myself with fluffing my hair and washing my hands. As I study myself in the mirror over the sink, my new necklace catches my attention, and a wave of insecurity slams into me.

What the hell does it mean that we ran into his ex-fiancée in a city with more than eight million people? What are the chances that they’re both here, on the same night, in the same bar?