“And yet”—her hands lowered so all ten fingertips braced lightly on the opposite side of his desk—“you didn’t mention one very crucial detail at that lunch.”

Clarke stayed silent and still, not giving an inch.

She leaned forward just slightly. “You failed to mention you were getting married.”

“Must have slipped my mind,” he said with a noncommittal smile.

“Must have.”

Their eyes locked, and as he had at the aforementioned lunch, Clarke waited for the punch of rightness. Hell, he’d take a flicker. Anything to remind himself that he’d once cared about this woman. Not that he didn’t care about her now. Elizabeth had once been important to him, and he wished only good things for her. But whereas before he’d found her beautiful, now she was merely attractive to him, in a detached, observational kind of way. Not because she’d changed, but because the way he felt about her had changed. She was merely a mostly fond memory now, and her being back in New York didn’t change that.

Still, Elizabeth gave him a knowing smile. “How long are you two going to keep it up?”

He tilted his head, feigning confusion.

“Cut the crap, Clarke,” she said, sitting down without being invited. “I know why Audrey’s playing bride. It’s literally her career to pose. But what I can’t figure out is why you’re going along with it. To get back at me, to irritate your mother, or because Audrey still has you wrapped around her finger?”

“Careful, Liz.”

“Oh, I don’t mean any offense against Audrey,” Elizabeth said. “She’s always been nice to me. I even started to like her once I quit being jealous of her. But I was jealous in those early days, and I can remember quite clearly that you spent the first several months of our relationship trying to ease my jealousy by reminding me that she was like a sister to you.”

It was on the tip of Clarke’s tongue to issue his usual knee-jerk reaction. To insist that Audrey was like a sister to him. Today, however, the words wouldn’t come. He tried to tell himself it was because he wanted to get under Elizabeth’s skin, but he was becoming increasingly aware that things between him and Audrey had nothing to do with Elizabeth.

“Does it surprise you that I’m marrying Audrey?” he asked. “Or that I’m marrying at all? Because I seem to remember you made it quite clear I wasn’t marriage material.”

“You weren’t marriage material then,” she clarified softly. “You had some, um, growing up to do. Manhattan was your playground, and you treated it as such. You and I both knew you wouldn’t be happy settling down with me in DC.”

You never even asked.