Four weeks ago. The sunrise from West’s balcony.

A new comment under the picture caught my attention. Aubrey telling the world, “I love that particular view.”

I froze and checked the timestamp.

Earlier fucking today.

Unable to help myself, I clicked on her name and navigated to her page, creeping through her endless parade of toothy selfies.

I stopped and scrolled back and forth. There were three of West on there from the last month. All in public, at casual restaurants I recognized. He’d mentioned working on gala stuff more in the last few weeks, but I hadn’t realized he’d been meeting with her. One was him in profile, leaning back in a chair, one foot resting on the opposite knee. Another was taken at the Wreck, the pile of peanut shells in front of him an indication of how long they must have been together. Most recently, four days ago, was at Starbucks. Two cups of coffee sitting next to each other, their names scrawled on the cardboard, his big hand wrapped around the one labeled his.

I closed the laptop. It didn’t mean anything. Well, it did, but not like that. Being the main sponsor of the gala was huge for his growing business, considering it was the biggest social event of the year on Reynold’s Island. He had a lot riding on it, and the fact that it was being held on his grandparents’ sprawling estate only made him more anxious to have everything go well.

I knew he was nervous about it — about proving himself, especially to his parents, who would be flying down for the big event. He’d tried to brush me off that day in the hammock, telling me he didn’t get nervous. But his hand had gripped my foot as he’d said the words, and I heard the hesitation in his voice, his usual cockiness missing.

Still, it rankled that he hadn’t mentioned the meetings with Aubrey, even in passing.

* * *

“So are you and West official now, or what?” Theo asked around a mouthful of glazed doughnut. We were walking up the driveway to West’s house, where the Fourth of July barbecue was already in full swing. I was contributing a couple boxes of Krispy Kreme’s to the event, and Theo had insisted on sacrificing one for quality-control purposes.

I slipped my sunglasses on, stalling for time.

Were we? We hadn’t had that talk yet, but I wasn’t seeing anyone else, and most nights found us sharing the same bed. Work had been good for West the last few weeks, and a lot of nights, by the time he knocked on my window, it was too late to do anything but fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms. Usually, he was gone before me in the morning, a paper airplane left behind on his pillow with his daily note to me. If for some reason we slept apart, I found the plane tucked under my windshield wiper.

So, yeah, at this point, I kind of expected us to end the day together.

Maybe we were a couple, but I wasn’t sure about the official part.

I mumbled something unintelligible and broke off a piece of his doughnut for myself, popping the sticky mess in my mouth and licking my fingers to keep from having to say anything further.

He raised his eyebrows, reading the evasion perfectly. “Don’t worry about it, Sadie. He doesn’t do girlfriends — don’t take it personally.”

Ouch.

It stung to be lumped in the same category as all the other women who had passed through his life. Like the chicks in the bar bathroom. Like Aubrey.

I wanted to believe we had something special. That we were something special.

Even if we hadn’t put a label on it.

A small crowd was already gathered on the patio by the grill, but I needed a drink first to wash away the sudden sour taste in my mouth from Theo’s innocent question. Grabbing the boxes from him, I climbed the stairs to the front porch. Ever the gentleman, Theo bounded ahead of me to get the door, holding it open for me to pass.

His question shouldn’t have taken me by surprise — the majority of the time West and I had spent hanging out had been just the two of us. Besides a few times at the Wreck and the drive-in a month ago, most people hadn’t really seen us together, other than Rue, who still glared daggers at me in the morning when he lingered after she had woken up. Our friends were curious, especially with West’s tendency toward flings, not relationships.

Hell, I was curious how he was going to act today. This was his house, his friends, his party.

Was I his girl? Or his dirty, little secret?

When I entered the kitchen, Theo on my heels, people were standing three deep around the counter, tapping the keg and mixing drinks with stronger stuff from glass bottles. I headed for the telltale red cooler, hoping it was full of the Wreck’s signature grog.