“So,” she said, “in honor of our new friendship, are you going to tell me why you’re here in the first place? I’m assuming the fiancée is no more, based on what Grace said?”

He groaned in resignation. “I forgot that with Kincaid friendship comes Kincaid nosiness. Can’t we skip this part?”

She gave him a satisfied smirk. “Take it or leave it, Isaacs. Spill.”

“Fine,” he said, knowing resistance was futile. “I’m here to save money. I’ve sent in a proposal to my publisher about a thriller set in Mexico and they’re dragging their feet, so I’m not under a book contract right now. The Lowells are letting me use the apartment for free because I’m no longer with Melanie.”

Her brow knit as she poured the cream. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, meaning it. “I’m glad she’s gone. Though where were you when I needed a wingman for dumping dog food?”

She pursed her lips, her eyes flaring with irritation. “She cheated on you?”

“Spectacularly. Though instead of dog food, maybe caviar would’ve been appropriate. She’s with some asshole in the Hamptons. They’re in love apparently.”

Kincaid made a sound of disgust. “Gross. Though I’m not surprised.”

He frowned at that. “Gee, thanks.”

She flicked her hand at him dismissively. “Not because of you. Because of her. I got that wants-her-man-to-be-fancy vibe off her the first Christmas you brought her home. She kept talking to me about how huge your next book was going to be, how acclaimed, and about some publisher party y’all had gone to. She never actually said anything nice about you.”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, not shocked, but it still stung to hear that once his social stock went down, Melanie bailed. “She hated you.”

Kincaid nodded. “Oh, I have no doubt. People like her don’t like when other people see through their bull. And that chick had my bullshit meter pinging in the red.” She shrugged. “But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. Being cheated on sucks. Did you love her?”

He shifted uncomfortably at the jumbled feelings that surfaced. “I wouldn’t have proposed if I didn’t.”

She gave him a genuine look of sympathy. “Well, then I’m real sorry, Ash. Honestly.”

“Thanks,” he said, off-balance from the shift between them. It’d been so long since he’d seen the Kincaid he remembered, the one without that ten-foot-tall electrified fence between them. It took his breath for a second. He needed to be careful. He couldn’t let his guard down too much. That was how he’d gotten in trouble the last time.

He could be friends with her again. Nothing more. He was done falling for people who loved someone else. And there was no doubt in his mind that Kincaid still loved Graham as much as she had when he was alive. It was no accident that she was still single after all these years. Her heart was already taken.

Well, so was his. He wasn’t giving his out anymore. He was never going to be that pathetic, lovesick teen again, and he wasn’t going to be the blind idiot who thought when a woman said yes to a marriage proposal that she actually meant she wanted to be with him and him alone. He’d left a lot of the old Ashton behind when he’d moved away from Long Acre. But when he left New York, he’d let the final thread of that kid go. He used to pride himself on not being like other guys who were phobic about commitment, but now he saw that they’d had it right all along. Take the fun parts—the flirting, the laughs, the sex—and leave the rest—the self-doubt, the humiliation, the heartbreak—for the suckers.