Page 95 of She’s Worth the Risk

“I’m sorry.” I rub my forehead. “I didn’t mean to say Kyle was your dad.”

She shrugs. “Don’t be, I’m used to it.”

“We all are,” Daisy says with a smirk. “You get what I’m talking about now, right?”

I exhale slowly. “Yes… and no. You guys all seem so happy, but you don’t have to hide like Nick and I do.”

Iris snorts. “Not anymore, but we’ve all been there. Aidan was my boss, and he worked for my father.” She turns to each woman in the circle, pointing to them in turn. “Wes is the father of Daisy’s ex, Kyle is Violet’s dad’s best friend, and… Wyatt’s your best friend’s dad, right, Pops?” Poppy nods, and my jaw drops.

Holy crap.

Iris turns back to me, softening. “We know what it’s like falling for someone you’re not supposed to want. Having to sneak around. I was in your position last year, thinking that these women”—she motions to the group—“have it all figured out, but they’re just a few steps ahead.”

“Wow,” I murmur, trying to process this.

“What we’re saying,” Daisy chimes in gently, “is that there’s hope. Things might feel impossible now, but you’ll find a way to work it out.”

A thousand questions rush up my throat—how they knew it was worth the risk, how they told people, how they overcame the rules they’d broken—but Gran appears with the tea, and the women rise, returning to tidying the living room. It’s a relief that they seem to know not to discuss this in front of Gran.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Gran says dryly.

Poppy laughs. “It’s just boring dating advice,” she replies, gathering the leftover food.

Gran’s gaze slides to me, glittering with interest. “Is that right?”

I quickly look away, busying myself with collecting the advice cards. There are some pretty funny comments on there, which I think Violet will enjoy.

“Thank you all so much,” Violet says. “This was the best afternoon.”

I share a grin with the others, but as I turn back to tidying, it doesn’t last. These women are so warm, so kind, so generous. I’m thrilled they’ve all worked things out with their partners, that they’ve created loving relationships they can be proud of. Relationships they can share with the world.

I only hope Nick and I can do the same.

37

NICK

Iwake to a text from my brother, lighting up my screen in the dark. It’s one of the few nights Zinnia hasn’t slept over, and as I reach for my phone, the bed feels cold and empty.

I curse under my breath as I catch sight of the time. It’s not even six. He must have worked a night shift.

Marcus: Did you get the invitation?

Invitation?

Sitting up in bed, I reach for my glasses on the nightstand, frowning as I text back.

Nick: The one Priya gave me at dinner?

Marcus: No, I sent you another one.

I scratch the back of my head, opening my email inbox, but there’s nothing there. Then I check spam, considering how infrequently Marcus and I email, but still nothing.

Nick: There’s nothing in my inbox.

Marcus: Not email. In the post, dipshit.

My frown deepens. I don’t know when he decided that calling me names like jackass and dipshit would improve our relationship, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.