Chapter 130

EMILIA

The “rounds,” as it turns out, are Liam pulling me from group to group like a show-and-tell prize he refuses to set down. Every few feet someone claps him on the back, shouts his name, or chirps about the last game. Every single time, his arm winds tighter around my waist, or his chin dips to brush my temple, or his lips find the crown of my head in a fleeting kiss that makes my stomach somersault.

And the teasing—oh God, the teasing.

“Emilia, huh? It’s great to finally meet you.”

“She actually exists? I could have sworn Calloway was just conjuring you from his imagination. You actually put up with this guy?”

“Careful, sweetheart, don’t let him near the grill. He’ll burn your eyebrows off.”

The wives are worse. They close ranks around me like I’ve already signed some invisible membership form. One of them—tall, dark-skinned, effortlessly stylish—flashes a grin that’s part warm welcome, part finally, she’s here.

“Emilia, right? I’m Far