I hurried toward the exit, shoving her phone back into my purse and grabbing for my own so I could summon a Lyft. I went blind around a corner and barreled into a man. We had to grab onto each other to keep from falling.

“Excuse me,” I said, and at the same time, he said, “Sorry.”

A familiar voice.

Marshall Chase stared down at me, surprised, and then his eyebrows pushed together and his steadying hand clamped onto my arm in a squeeze.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he said.

7

A woman banged into Marshall, throwing him off balance. His arms went around her, he inhaled sharply, and he knew instantly that it was Bree. He smelled her roses, not heavy or overly sweet. Roses undercut with earth and herbs that deepened the scent, the way good bitters deepened whiskey.

He’d had a few, so when they steadied, he wasn’t altogether sure who had caught whom. He stared down into her shocked, pale face.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” The words popped out. He’d been thinking about how not to think about her, and here she was, in his arms.

She pulled free, surprised and maybe angry, tottering on precariously high heels that put them almost eye to eye. “Are you following me?”

Marshall blinked. “Am I what? I came in to get out of the crowd for a minute. What are you doing here?” Right exactly here, bowling him over.

She swiped a hand through the air, as if shooing him, then pushed past him, heading out of the building. “I can’t talk to you.”

He fell into step beside her, a wobble in his turn. He wasn’t drunk, but he sure as hell wasn’t sober. Now that there was a safe distance between her body and his, he remembered she’d told him she was sick. So sick that just this afternoon she’d cussed and yelled and threatened him to make him drive her girls. Now here she was at the party.

“Okay, well, can I do anything else for you today? Shine your shoes? Clean out your litter box?” He was ragging on her a little, buzzed enough to revert back to the old friend that he was.

She sped up, saying, “I have to get home.”

Why was she here? He’d come because it was expected, and the food was always good, and it would fill the time with Cara out of town. It was better than sitting home alone thinking about Bree’s odd behavior, and the curve of her hip, and the way her face had lit up with love today when she saw Cara. He’d assumed she would be home in bed. But here she was.

“Did you get the kind of flu that comes in waves?”