No Evan.
Grant remained beside me, but his attention was elsewhere.
Then I spotted my husband.
He was near the dock.
He had one hand around a whiskey glass and was talking to two men from his department.
He looked relaxed.
Happy.
Free.
For one crazy second, I thought maybe the mystery woman had already left.
Then Evan glanced toward the upper terrace.
His expression softened.
I knew that look.
Once, years ago, it had belonged to me.
I followed his gaze.
A woman in a coral dress stood near the railing.
She looked about thirty.
Long dark hair.
Bare shoulders.
A slim gold bracelet catching the sunlight.
Evan smiled at her.
She smiled back.
And suddenly Grant beside me went completely still.
I turned toward him.
“You know her.”
His face had hardened.
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
Before he could answer, Evan saw me.
The color drained from his face.
His whiskey glass lowered.
He stared.
I stared back.
Then he started walking toward us.
Not casually.
Fast.
By the time he reached me, his jaw was clenched so tightly I could see the muscle jumping beside his ear.
“Brooke.”
I lifted my champagne glass.
“Hi, honey.”
