“In our underwear,” I say without thinking.

His first reaction to this is quiet shock, but it slowly melts into a smile that heats my blood, sets something simmering beneath my skin. “You said things are ‘complicated,’ huh?”

I’m saved from my crumbling resolve to keep quiet about Sean when there’s a knock on the door behind him. Elliot stares at me, some urgent light in his eyes, as if he knows I’m about to tell him something important.

I lift my chin to the door after we’ve stood there staring at each other for nearly ten silent seconds. “You should probably get that.”

With a small growl of defeat, he turns and opens the door to let the other two guests in.

Desmond enters first. He’s shorter than Elliot but thick with muscle, with smooth dark skin and a smile that seems permanently fixed in his eyes. He hands Elliot a bowl with a colorful salad inside and claps him on the back, thanking him for inviting him.

Rachel steps in next, but I’m distracted from her entrance by Desmond coming over to me, introducing himself in a thick Aussie accent. “I’m Des. Nice to meet you.”

“Macy,” I say, shaking his hand and adding awkwardly, “Yes, so glad we’re finally meeting.”

In truth, I have no idea how long Elliot’s known him. My mouth feels dry, hands clammy.

I look up and find Rachel staring at me. She blinks away, smiling tightly at Elliot as she waits for an introduction.

“Rachel,” Elliot says, guiding her forward. “This is Macy.”

She has short dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. When she smiles this time, it looks at least partly genuine, and reveals a set of bright, even teeth. She’s completely lovely.

“Hi, Rachel.” I reach out and she returns the handshake, limply.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” she says, and smiles again.

The words are out before I realize what I’m doing: “Thanks for coming.”

As if I’ve been here a million times. As if I live here, as if I’m hosting.

She turns to Elliot, her eyes tight again. He ducks, giving her a little reassuring smile.

My chest twists in jealousy and possessiveness. I don’t like their silent exchange. I don’t like the feeling that they have a past, a rhythm, an unspoken language.

“Where should I put this?” she asks, lifting a canvas grocery bag with a few bottles of wine inside.

“Fridge,” Elliot says, squeezing her shoulder and giving her another lingering, encouraging look before releasing her and returning to my side.

Rachel disappears and Elliot glances at Des, who shakes his head a little when she’s gone.

“She’s all right, mate,” Des says quietly. “Onward.” And then he turns to me, unleashing the grin. “And you. Here you are. In the flesh.”

I deflect this possible conversation with a question: “How do you two know each other?”

“Rugby,” Des says.

My laugh comes out louder than I expect it to, and Des’s eyes widen with thrill. “I don’t know you, Macy, but I think we’re going to be best friends.”