He hadn’t wanted to marry Elizabeth. Then or now. But it had been a valuable lesson in how women saw him—the same way his parents saw him. He was the fun guy, the unpredictable party boy. The one you brought home to your parents as arm candy because of his name and bank account, not because your dad would be impressed by his moral fiber. Even the women who’d made noise about coaxing him down the altar had been far more interested in the challenge, the inheritance, and the last name West.

“Liz told me I wasn’t marriage material, and she was right.”

“She was wrong,” Audrey protested. “Just because she couldn’t see your value doesn’t mean someone else won’t.” She reached a hand across the table.

Clarke took a breath and placed his hand over hers, feeling the diamond of her engagement ring dig lightly into his palm. The fact that she’d decided to put it back on for one last day gave him the courage he needed.

Here goes nothing. “Someone already has.”

Audrey blinked and tried to wriggle her hand away, but he pressed more firmly. “You’ve met someone?” she asked, sounding both thrilled and surprised.

“I’ve known her awhile, actually.”

This time she was successful in jerking her hand away, dropping both hands into her lap, out of reach. “Well, that’s great. Oh my gosh, you should have told me. I put your ring back on for God’s sake. I just wanted one last hurrah, and—never mind, none of that’s important. Clarke.” She leaned forward, eyes wide. “Are you thinking of marrying this woman? Is that why you told Alexis to reserve the Plaza? Oh my God, can I be your best woman? You have to say yes!”

Huh. This was not how he envisioned this going.

Clarke tried again, starting over. “I said that Liz was right when she said I wasn’t marriage material, but only partially right. I’ll never fit into her mold of marriage. Or society’s mold of marriage. I don’t know how to dote—I’ve never met anyone I want to dote on. Even if I did, to your point about divorce rates, I don’t have faith that I, or any of us, really, can count on love to last.”

“Or that the guy you’re in love with isn’t also in love with his wife,” she said glumly.

Clarke was pretty damn sure Brayden Hayes had only ever been in love with himself, though he didn’t point this out to her. Deep down, she probably already knew.

Audrey was frowning at him. “Okay, so you don’t believe in love, and you don’t think you’re marriage material. So help me understand… Why are you letting Alexis think you’re going to book the last Saturday in March at the Plaza?”