That night, long after Raya had fallen asleep, Rebecca stood in front of her bedroom mirror, her fingers unconsciously brushing over her lips.

The memory refused to fade.

The warmth of his mouth. The hesitation before he touched her. The way she had not stopped him.

Worse — the way she had responded.

Her chest tightened.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She had moved on. Or at least she had convinced herself that she had.

Her phone vibrated against the bedside table, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Angelo.

She hesitated before opening the message.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day. Dinner this weekend?”

Her stomach twisted painfully.

Angelo...