“Oh, Davis. This is amazing,” the head blonde gushes, squeezing him in a tight hug.

“Anything for you, Hillary. You know that.” He hugs her back, and his eyes catch me at the bar.

One of the other Miss Priss girls follows his vision and turns around to glare at me.

After he’s released from Hillary’s clutches—at least, that’s what I like to think of it as—he asks, “How are the wedding plans coming?”

“Wonderful—at least, I hope so. I’ve instructed my wedding planners—wait!” The blonde goes into a full-on panic mode. “Where are they? They should have been here an hour ago to make sure all the favors are in order and the flowers have arrived. Mom!” she yells.

An adult version of Miss Debutant clicks over on her Manolo Blahniks.

“Where are Tina and Ralph? I don’t see my cake—” she says, her voice escalating.

I can’t help but let out a small laugh to her having a panic attack over a few pounds of sugar and flour. Of course, that earns me about five glares from her followers.

“Relax, Hillary. The cake arrived this morning. It’s in the back. I’ll have someone bring it out shortly. Tina and Ralph were here but ran out really quick,” Davis says, easing the bride-to-be’s mind.

“Good. I was going to say, they’re getting paid a lot of money, and if they—”

“It’s all being handled, Hillary. Go enjoy your shower.” Davis places his hand on her back and motions for her to sit down.

“This should just be a ball,” Lucy sarcastically says, grabbing two pitchers off the bar top.

“Don’t get too close. You might catch the pink flu,” I joke.

Lucy laughs.

“Hey, you two, what’s all the laughter about?” Davis leans on the bar, his forearm muscles flexing.

“Nothing,” Lucy answers before scurrying away to feed the elite.

He glances to Lucy’s departing back and then to me. Those brown eyes sparkle to mine. “We’re still on for today?”

Shit.

“Um . . .”

“Are you canceling on me?” He steps back from the bar, offended.

“I have to go somewhere with Todd. Maybe after, like later tonight?”

I can’t believe I forgot about my date with Davis.

He slowly nods, thinking hard about something.

“I’m really sorry. If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t go.”

I reach across the bar top for his hand, but he steps farther away.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” I shake my head. We can’t show affection here. My head is everywhere at the moment.

“It’s okay.” He checks his perimeter. “Call me when you finish. Hopefully, this will be short and painless.” He flings his head back, insinuating the shower.

“I doubt it will be either,” I respond.

He chuckles. “Probably right about that.”

He leans over a little closer, and my heartbeat picks up.

“Is it bad to say I hope some debacle happens, like the cake gets dropped, so my time with you comes sooner?”

He changes pace fast.

“Not at all. I’m looking forward to it, too.” Lame, Amelia. You can do so much better than that.

“I hope so. I would hate to be the only one.” He smirks, backs away, and makes his way into the kitchen.

I look up, and the same girl from earlier is giving me a look that could kill.

The afternoon isn’t horrible since Lucy and Heather are working. Mostly, we make fun of the hysterical antics from the bride and her bridesmaids. It reminds me of that movie Mean Girls. The bride must be the head bitch, and the ranking goes down from there. There are no pleases or thank-yous to the wait staff. Instead, there are eye rolls and huffs of annoyance.

“What were you thinking, Amelia?” Lucy comes over, sarcastically tossing her head. “The glass has a smudge on the stem.”

She rolls her eyes, and I reach around to grab her another one, making sure I wipe it down first.

“Thanks. Can you ask Todd for more crab cakes?” Lucy snatches a bottle of wine and circles back to the table.

I move down the length of the bar.

Once I enter the hot kitchen, the tension is so intense that I automatically feel uncomfortable. “Hey, Todd,” I call out.

Both he and Davis turn in my direction. Curt, another sous chef, glances my way, and there’s terror in his eyes.

“What?” Todd snaps.

“Yeah, Amelia?” Davis questions, glaring at Todd, who’s already glaring at him.

It appears to be a standoff of chefs.

“Lucy says they need more crab cakes,” I quietly mumble, wondering if I just interrupted some owner-employee spat.

I’m surprised Davis is in the kitchen. Lately, he entertains instead of actually cooking.

“I’ll get them out,” Todd coldly replies.

He turns his attention back to cooking while Davis turns the opposite way from him. I stand there, waiting for something, but I’m not sure what. Curt nods toward the door, so I escape from the igloo confines. Who would have thought a restaurant kitchen could feel so cold?

Grabbing a tray of bread baskets, I push through the swinging kitchen door and stop dead in my tracks. My eyes fixate on the tall figure standing next to the bride-to-be. He’s dressed in pressed khaki pants with a nice button-down tucked in. His wavy hair is gelled back, giving it that put-together yet messy look. Even his accessories suggest he just stepped out from a Ralph Lauren advertisement. Although he’s mouth-watering, he isn’t the Cam I knew. I guess I always got the working-class version, a very different Cam than these people know.

“Thanks, Amelia.” Heather grabs the tray, awakening me from my thoughts and giving me a dose of reality that my ex is standing twenty feet away with his arm around the guest of honor.

Crap, is that blonde, Miss Hoity-Toity, his fiancée? Was he actually engaged when he slept in my bed?

Just as I’m about to run back into the kitchen, he turns my way. I freeze, and our eyes lock. A slow smile begins to creep across his face, and he starts to step closer. Keeping my feet grounded, as though he can’t see me, isn’t my smartest choice.

All I hear is, “Lia,” in that deep voice from the guy who used to have me wrapped around his fingers.

Then, the kitchen door hits me on the back, and I collapse facedown onto the floor.

“Amelia.” This time, the voice is Davis, a new voice that has the effect of making me melt. “I’m sorry.” He places his hand on my arm and helps me up.

Then, the tall presence comes on the other side of me. When my eyes focus back up, I notice the whole table of women are staring at me, none too pleased that I’ve interrupted their brunch.

“Are you okay?” Davis asks.

“I’m fine, really.” I wipe my hands on my pants and turn my back on both Cam and Davis.

I’ve never enjoyed attention focused on me. The women happily become engrossed in either enjoying my embarrassment or someone else’s because they bellow in laughter.

“Are you sure?” Davis comes alongside me, resting his hand on my back.

I sidestep, getting away from the purely uncomfortable feeling I have with Cam being so close.

“Yeah, Lia, sit down for a second,” Cam’s concerned—oh, I mean, fake concerned voice says.

“You know Amelia?” Davis turns to Cam, disregarding that I’m right next to him. He could have clearly asked me the question.

“Um, well—” Cam stutters.

“I was his slumming secret,” I dramatically whisper to Davis but make sure Cam can hear me.

Davis’s hand stiffens on my back.

“That’s not true,” Cam argues, but I can tell by his skittish behavior that it is.

Then, he becomes more uneasy when Head Blonde calls him over. “Cam! Cam!” She childishly whines, “Come over here.”

He stares at me for a second before turning on his loafers, submitting to his role.

Davis’s hand still hasn’t left my back, and I notice Heather, Leo, and Lucy staring intently at us. Once Davis sees all their prying eyes, his hand flies off my body. Not in the mood for another secret affair, I distance myself to the end of the bar, straightening the glasses. I’m not sure why, but when Davis retreats back into the kitchen, a sadness comes over me. Maybe he’s worried that he’s slumming it just like Cam.