“It wasn’t that. That’s not why I held back from telling you.”

She frowned. “Then why?”

“It was just…” He frowned, realizing he didn’t know how to explain, or even what he was trying to explain.

He wanted to tell her that he hadn’t mentioned Elizabeth stopping by because when he was in the same room with her, Elizabeth was the last person he was thinking about. He wanted to tell her that the day of the ski trip, he’d let Elizabeth stay glued to his side because, like an idiot, he needed a buffer. From her.

But he couldn’t tell her that in a strange, twilight zone twist of fate, his ex-girlfriend felt bland and safe, whereas the mere thought of Audrey was conjuring up dangerous, intense emotions.

Looking down at her face now, trusting and understanding, he realized how wrong he’d been. There was nothing dangerous here. Intense, yes. But even amid their recent complications, one thing was simple: This woman was the best part of his life. The rock he could always count on.

Without thinking, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Can I take you to dinner?”

She smiled. “On Valentine’s Day? Our options will be limited without a reservation.”

“I’ve made three. You’ve got your choice between Italian, French, or a pretentious little place in the West Village deemed the ‘most Instagram-able place in the city.’ I figure we’re due for a preemptive strike against Scandal Boy and his minions.”

“Yes, he has been suspiciously quiet. I thought for sure someone would have caught a picture of you and Elizabeth swooping down the slopes together,” Audrey said.

“Swooping?” he asked, eyebrows arching even as his guilt gnawed at him. “For the record, I have never swooped in my life, and it wasn’t like it was just the two of us holding hands down the mountain while singing our love. We were with the group the whole time.”

“Well, it was going to be either that or a shot of me and the hot billionaire. But maybe that’s the benefit of getting out of the city. I guess Scandal Boy’s army of sycophants don’t hang out in the Poconos.”

“Bet they’d love to get a shot of us on Valentine’s Day, though.” Clarke kept his voice casual. Don’t beg, man.

She hesitated. “I’m sure. But what’s the point if we’re no longer engaged?” She held up her bare left hand. “Might as well let people know sooner rather than later.’

“I realize I’m not the most romantic of guys, but maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t the ideal day to announce to your followers that love is dead?”

She laughed. “Good point. I guess I could suffer through wearing the gorgeous diamond on my finger for one more night. Or…”

“I’m listening,” he prompted.