"C'mon, stop, Elizabeth Ann Margaret," Asher said. "You're out of line. She's allowed to have secrets if she wants to. It's none of our business."

"So you're just completely on her side?" Elizabeth Ann Margaret asked him. This time she honestly did look hurt. "Even though she's told us nothing real about herself and as long as I've known her?"

I cast my eyes to the side, annoyed and empathetic at the same time. My life wasn't my own for most of my 20s, but I watched TV. Lots of it. Elizabeth Ann Margaret wasn't as talented as she wanted to be. And she was approaching an age where her biological time clock was telling her that if she couldn't have the career she wanted, she should at least try for a stable relationship.

How often had I dreamt of having a real relationship instead of the steaming pile of psychological mess I'd endured for nearly ten years?

So yeah, I got it. But at the same time, I had to tell her, "Look, Elizabeth Ann Margaret, Chase after Asher or don't chase after him. My situation has nothing to do with yours."

"So you're saying you don't want him?" Elizabeth Ann Margaret shot back like we were in one of the reality shows I used to watch fanatically before I got serious about art.

I shifted my eyes to the side. I hated lying, but not answering would only invite her to draw her own conclusion. And how was I supposed to explain that I'd be totally fine with Asher asking me out…after I was done serving my ten-year sentence?

I tugged on my ring, trying to come up with the best answer.

But then, suddenly, I didn't have to.

"Who is that?" Elizabeth Ann Margaret froze, her eyes shifting up to the seminar classroom's doorway. Along with the gazes of every other woman in our class and quite a few of the guys—heterosexual, gay, and everything in between.

I followed the direction of their stare, and my heart nearly gave out.

Victor…

Victor was coming down the stairs right toward us.

And I could see why everyone was staring. For once, he wasn't wearing a suit. Instead, he rocked a short-sleeved Henley and a pair of jeans, even though it was still cold out. But no one but me seemed to be questioning his winter wardrobe choices. Maybe because the Henley clung to his muscular chest. It also showed off the bottom two-thirds of his sleeves while his open collar provided a tantalizing peek at his dragon tattoo. And the trendy gray jeans perfectly framed his muscular legs.

"Wait, is that…is that your husband?" Elizabeth Ann Margaret whispered beside me.

Victor reached us before I could come up with an answer.