“What do you think about that couch?” he asked, pointing at a shiny black leather sectional.

“Looks slippery and will forever have a dead cowhide smell. If you want that whole bachelor pad look, then that’s the way to go. Why guys all love black leather, I’ll never quite know.”

“Not a fan of black leather, huh?” His deep, rich voice held a touch of humor.

“Not especially. I like a couch that I can cuddle up on without having to unstick myself every time the room gets above seventy degrees. There’s a couch over there…” I pointed to the next “room” over. “Black, still very masculine, and much more comfortable.”

He cocked his head and studied me. “You know, you look really familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

If you think that line’s going to work on me, you’re dreaming. Even if you are very attractive. “I don’t think so.”

“Are you sure we haven’t met before?” His eyebrows lowered as he stared at me. “Where do you work?”

He sounded genuine enough that I started to think it wasn’t a line, but I would’ve remembered meeting a guy who looked like he did. “I work as an interior designer for Metamorphosis Interior Designs.”

“So you pick out furniture for other people?” One corner of his mouth twisted up. “Even if what they want smells like dead cow?”

“If that’s what they want. Then I just silently judge them while I decorate.”

He laughed, and his smile lit up his pale green eyes. “Well, I’m sick of trying to decorate my place. Maybe I should hire you.”

“Maybe you should.” I’d thrown it out there, but I hadn’t expected him to actually consider it. Something about the guy unsettled me in a hard-to-place way. It wasn’t a scary feeling, but a kind of magnetic pull that made me feel like I should run and move closer at the same time. I pulled a card out of my purse and handed it to him, more to have something to do than anything else. The way he was looking at me had my heart beating faster and faster and I couldn’t have that. I’d sworn off men.

“I better get back to work.” I shot him a quick smile, then continued my search through the store.

Two days later, Porter Montgomery called and hired me to redecorate his place.

“I figured out where I saw you,” Porter said when I showed up at his house to see what the job was going to entail. “The Building Hope dinner. At the time, you were with someone else.” He leaned against the door frame, his eyes locked on mine. “Are you still with him?”

I’d attended that dinner with Robert. The old scars from that relationship rose up, making my chest constrict. “I’m not with anyone right now.”

“So, how about you and me—”

“Let’s have a look around and get started on your place,” I said, stepping past him and into the expansive entry.

Over the course of the next few months, I redid every room in his giant four-bedroom house. He constantly flirted with me; I remained professional. After all, I didn’t believe in love or relationships anymore.

But occasionally I slipped with Porter, getting drawn into conversations with him that felt like only minutes but lasted an hour. Once it was about classic cars. Then an interesting art piece he’d gotten in Italy. He’d visited countries I’d always dreamed of going to, and he had all these pictures and stories—the way he told them made me feel like I was there. He always asked questions about my hobbies and opinions, and he really listened when I talked.

There was this crazy chemistry between us, like the air was charged every time we were in the same room. But whenever he brought up doing anything together outside of decorating, I brushed him off and got back to work.

Then he sent me flowers, with a note insisting I let him take me to dinner. I told him I didn’t date clients. He let it go after that, and I volleyed between relief and disappointment.

The job ended, we settled the account, and I went on my way.

A week later, he called and told me I had no excuse to not go out with him anymore. I caved—I couldn’t help it. I tried to keep things light, but Porter didn’t believe in light. He threw himself into whatever he did, whether it was his work, sports—he liked lacrosse—or being with me. We attended functions, dined at nice restaurants, and spent time strolling around downtown. We had a blast when we went out, and our time in was even better. If he was going to have late meetings, he’d join me for lunch at Blue so we wouldn’t have to go days without seeing each other.

Porter had money and liked to have fun like Charlie, only he had ambition and talked respectfully about women. He was everything Robert was, in that he was kind and driven, only he got how much I loved my job and talked about it like it was important. Basically, he had all the best qualities of every guy I’d ever dated, without any flaws. On top of all that, he got me in a way no one else ever had.

After two months of dating, he told me he loved me. It took me another month to be able to say it back.

When the dragon tried to step in and ruin things, he slayed her.

Okay, I suppose calling his mother a dragon is a little unfair. The woman actually blew smoke out of her nostrils, though. Instead of smoking “poor people” cigarettes, she smoked Fantasia Lights. They had gold filter tips and came in a rainbow of colors.

At one of the Montgomery parties, while Eleanor Montgomery was puffing away on a cigarette, Porter escorted me over to say hi to her—despite my objections. I already knew she didn’t like me, even though Porter claimed it wasn’t true.

Eleanor turned to me, and if her face hadn’t been filled with so much Botox, I’m sure she would’ve scowled. She looked from me to Porter. “Darling, I thought you were bringing Catherine tonight.”

Porter put his arm around me. “Why would I bring her, when I have a lovely girlfriend to come with me?”

“As we discussed over the phone, I’d hate for Darby to be uncomfortable…”

The way you’re discussing me as if I’m not here is making me uncomfortable.

Eleanor took another drag on her cigarette. “It’s just that most people here went to Ivy League colleges. I’m not sure that art school’s prepared Darby for the topics discussed at this party.” She glanced at me. “Nothing personal, dear, but we’ve got to keep good relations with all of our friends. We tend to stick together in a tight-knit group and they might not accept you like…Porter has.” Smoke filled the air around us. “I’d hate for anyone to insinuate you’re with him because of his financial status.”

“That’s enough,” Porter said, stepping closer to his mother, his voice low. “You can either be nice to Darby, or we’ll leave.”

Her hand shot to her chest. “I’m being nice, I just—”

Porter grabbed my hand. “Good-bye, Mother. Give everyone my regards.” With that, he and I left the stuffy party.

Porter’s standing up to his mother, especially since it was in my defense, impressed me. I was so impressed, I decided it was time to take him to the ranch to meet my family. Porter owned a business empire. He came from old money. I worried that he, Drew, and Devin wouldn’t mesh very well. I warned Porter about my brothers, warned my brothers about the way Porter was, and threatened them to all be nice to each other.

Porter didn’t do very well with the whole tour-the-ranch thing, but he was a better sport about it than Robert. He didn’t have anything in common with my family besides me, but he tried. He invited them to the city and took them to dinner. He informed his mother she could accept me or deal with not seeing him as much, so she and I learned to tolerate each other. It wasn’t perfect, but we worked at it.

One night when we were talking about our childhoods, Porter asked about my father. Dad was one of those subjects that made an achy, raw feeling form over my heart, and I didn’t like talking about him. But when Porter wrapped his arms around me, I finally did it—I dropped all my walls. I told him how it hurt that my dad didn’t try to spend more time with me when I was younger or even now, and how I missed him all the same.

After talking it through with Porter, he convinced me to reach out to my dad, telling me that he’d be there for me if it went badly. Because of him giving me that nudge, I started talking to my dad more and more. For Thanksgiving that year, Porter surprised me by flying Dad and his wife in so we could be together. I think I spent most of the day crying.

Week after week passed and things just kept getting better. While I hadn’t moved into his place, I stayed there most nights and had a whole closet set aside just for me. He worked crazy hours sometimes, but he’d bring his laptop to bed and occasionally reach out and squeeze my hand or kiss my cheek, just to show me he was glad I was there.

Life was perfect, and I felt my abandonment issues melting away and my faith in love returning. Something whispered to me, This is it. He’s the one.

Then Porter hit me with his “great news.”

“My company’s merging with another,” he said one night over a candlelit dinner. “It’s a great opportunity, and I think it’s going to be great for business. There’s just one thing…I’ve got to move to New York to oversee it.”

Who knows, maybe after Sleeping Beauty and Prince Phillip got together, he informed her that he needed to go settle another kingdom. Maybe that’s the part of the story they decided was best not to show.

All I could do was stare across the table at Porter, feeling betrayed that he’d leave me after everything we’d been through. My heart started to crack; my perfect world crumbled around me.

“I was thinking, though…” Porter scooted forward and put his hand over mine. “You could go with me. We can try out living together. See what happens.”