Avery looks down at Evan's arm, but he's wearing a long-sleeved shirt. The sleeves are rolled up to the middle of his forearm, but his upper arm is still hidden. She wants to pull his sleeve up, but she's afraid to touch him.

"I thought it was too dangerous to try to get rid of the tattoo," she says.

Evan scoffs, "Did you really believe that? That's the kind of story that tricks a naïve girl. A woman like you should know better than to believe in that fairytale nonsense."

Each word feels like a cold dagger in her chest. If I'm honest with myself, I never even thought about getting rid of the tattoo, she thinks. Even though Evan and I are finished, I like having it as a reminder of him.

"Look at your face," Evan sneers.

"I don't believe in running from the past, Evan," she says. "At least I don't lie to Andrew about my old relationships."

She pushes past him and runs back into the kitchen. Rebecca is leaning over the table, lighting two thin white candles with a match. She shakes the match out and stares absently at the flickering flames. She seems lost in thought.

Avery forces herself to smile before walking into the living room. Her cheeks feel stiff and strange, but Rebecca doesn't seem to notice. Rebecca ushers her to the table and pulls a chair out for her. Avery sits, but Rebecca stays standing.

"Evan, dear," she calls, her voice sweet and smooth as honey. "Dinner is ready."

"Just a minute," Evan calls.

Rebecca smiles at Avery and pulls the chair out across from her and sits. Avery looks at the table and feels a pang of jealousy. The rectangular table is covered in a white tablecloth embroidered with white flowers. Fresh cut roses and lilies sit in a crystal vase in the middle, and every dish looks like it's been prepared by a professional chef. Robert stands helplessly in the corner, and Avery knows that Rebecca has done everything herself.

She's the kind of woman everyone hoped I would be, Avery thinks sadly. She's beautiful, graceful, kind, and warm. And even though she's wealthy, she can cook and arrange flowers and make a comfortable home for Evan. Compared to her, I'm nothing. I'm the kind of woman who runs back and forth between men. Hell, I almost kissed her boyfriend in her bathroom.

Evan walks into the room, and Rebecca leaps out of her seat. She's given him the place at the head of the table. Evan sits, and Rebecca sits down again on his right side. Avery is on his left. Evan unfolds his linen napkin and puts it on his lap.

"Evan, may I invite Robert to join us?" Rebecca asks. "There's plenty of food."

Evan ignores the question, and Avery stifles a laugh. Rebecca's kindness toward others could not be more different from Evan's aloof superiority.

"Thanks, Miss Arlington, but it's fine," Robert mutters, color rising in his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Robert," Rebecca murmurs.

Avery glances over at Robert—his look of surprise and shock mirrors her own. Rebecca must be from a wealthy, upper-class family if she met Evan at a benefit dinner, but she doesn't act like it, Avery thinks. Most women like her are cold and demanding with their servants, but Rebecca treats them more like guests than employees. A wave of guilt washes over her as she remembers all the times she was impatient with Robert and the other Howel servants.

As Rebecca serves the food, Robert watches her with an admiring gaze. He never looked at me like that, Avery thinks with a pang. Everyone at the mansion will prefer her to me. Not one person will miss me.

Rebecca carries three bowls of vegetable soup on a small tray. She serves Evan first and then Avery, giving herself the last bowl with the smallest portion. Hot steam rises off the bowls, filling the air with a rich, earthy smell.

"I'm sorry, Evan, I didn't know you were coming," Rebecca says. "If I'd known, I would have made something a little nicer."

Evan smiles at Rebecca and says, "I like everything you make."

His tone is flat, but Rebecca smiles happily. Avery takes a taste of the steaming soup—the broth is rich and flavorful, and the vegetables are cooked to perfection. It's just as good as it smells.

"Actually, I don't even know your favorite food," Rebecca says shyly. "If you tell me what it is, I can learn how to make it for you."

"You can try seafood quiche," Evan says.

Avery almost drops her spoon into the soup. The first thing she ever cooked for Evan was a seafood quiche—it was something special they shared. But now Evan is asking another woman to make it for him. She looks down at the hot soup, trying to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

He's doing this on purpose, she thinks. He's showing me that I'm not special to him. He wants me to see just how easy it was for him to replace me. I'm sure her quiche will be better than mine, too.

"Oh, you like seafood quiche?" Rebecca asks. "It's one of my specialties. I'd be happy to make it for you. If you like, I can even have it sent to your office for lunch."

"I'd like that," Evan says with a sideways glance at Avery. "Are you sure it won't be too much work for you?"

"Your concern is sweet, but I'm fine," Rebecca says. "If anyone should be worried—it's me. You took a helicopter off a cruise ship to come to get me at the airport, and you haven't stopped working since. Are you tired?"

Avery chokes on a sip of water. She remembers standing on the bar as waves crashed onto the deck of the sinking ship. She watched as Evan climbed into his helicopter and flew away, abandoning her on the ship. Now she realizes, he did it to meet Rebecca at the airport.

She tries to calm herself and focus on her food, but her stomach churns. Rebecca clears the soup bowls away and gives them each a plate with salmon and vegetables. Avery starts to cut the salmon, and the sharp knife slices through the tender fillet and scrapes against the plate.

"Does your friend know basic table manners?" Evan asks Rebecca.

"No, that's my mistake," Rebecca says. "I should have cut the fish before serving it."

Avery clutches her knife tighter and takes a deep breath. She stabs a piece of fish and takes a bite. The outside is perfectly glazed, while the inside is soft and moist. She takes another bite and then another, hoping that she can leave as soon as she's done eating.

"Oh, Evan, I made a decision privately," Rebecca says. "It was supposed to be a surprise, but now I want to tell you. Avery is going to design a pair of cufflinks for you."

"Oh, is she a designer?" Evan asks.

"Yes, she works at D.O.," Rebecca says. "I met her there today. I'd seen her drawing before, and I specifically asked for her."

"Fascinating," Evan says. "Which design school did she go to?"

Avery puts her fork down and bites her lip. If Evan keeps questioning her, Rebecca might get suspicious.

"Rebecca, I think it's better if we don't discuss the design too much," Avery says. "I work better when I have some time to think on my own."

"Are you avoiding me, Miss Peters?" Evan asks. "Or are you scared I'll find out your designs are no good?"