“Oh, I know,” Elizabeth agreed, stepping out onto Audrey’s front porch. “I’m just sorry I didn’t realize sooner that you were in love with him. But how could you not be. He’s Clarke, right?”

She said this with a knowing smile, a shared understanding between two women who loved the same man.

Audrey hesitated as Elizabeth walked away, opening her mouth to tell Elizabeth she’d gotten it wrong, that her marriage with Clarke wouldn’t be like that, that she wasn’t in love with her best friend.

The words wouldn’t come. Because her heart already knew they were a lie…

Chapter Twenty-One

TUESDAY, MARCH 3

Clarke had just finished up an evening workout and didn’t hear the knocking until he turned the water off in the shower.

He pulled a towel off the rack and ignored it. Not particularly in the mood for company following a tense dinner with his parents, he wasn’t about to greet anyone unexpected while naked.

His mother had been entirely unreadable following his announcement that he’d be marrying Audrey for real, while his father was plainly pleased. And he was pissed at both of them for playing games that he suspected had more to do with irritating each other than they did with him.

Clarke dried off and, stepping out of the walk-in shower, knotted the towel around his waist and went to the vanity to shave, frowning when he realized the knocking at the front door hadn’t stopped. If anything, it had gotten louder.

He checked his phone to see if he’d missed any urgent messages from Audrey or his family, but other than the usual slew of work emails, there was nothing to indicate that someone was that determined to get his attention.

Clarke reached for the shaving cream, then set it down again, curiosity winning out. He headed down the stairs.

He looked through the peephole and, with a frown, opened the door.

“Dree, what the hell?” he asked.

“Took you long enough,” she said, brushing by him and stepping inside as he shut the door.

“You have a key.”

“I forgot it.”

“What about your cell phone?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

“I forgot that, too.”

“You—” Clarke broke off. Audrey’s job was her cell phone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d known it to be more than an arm’s length away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, giving her a quick scan for cuts and bruises, anything to indicate what she was doing here or why she was so out of sorts.