Okay, what the hell is he talking about? Have I missed part of the conversation?

“What are you talking about, Henley?”

“Why don’t you ask your fucking fiancé what I’m talking about?”

“I don’t have a fiancé.”

“I saw him with my own fucking eyes,” he explodes.

Oh . . . Liam.

I roll my lips to hide my smile.

“You think this is funny?” he whispers angrily. “You’re riding my cock at that wedding and engaged to be married the whole fucking time?”

“Okay, let’s get something straight here.” I hold my hands up, trying to calm him down. He’s about to pop an artery. “Are you angry about my dog, or are you angry about Liam?”

Full of contempt, he steps forward, and I step back. “I’m angry that you’re a liar,” he sneers.

“Well . . . you are right, I am a liar.”

“I knew it,” he spits.

“Liam is my brother, you fucking idiot.”

“What?”

“He lied to you back then because I was upset at how you treated me and he wanted to get you back.”

“What?” His eyes nearly pop out of his head. “How I treated you? How the fuck did I treat you?”

“I waited at home all day for you to call me, and you stood me up and never called me again.”

“I was working,” he yells.

“Bull fucking shit you were working. I saw you at the club. I saw you being a sleazebag, you lying asshole.”

“That’s bullshit.” He frowns and puts his weight onto his back foot. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh.” I have proof. I swipe through my phone, and I know exactly where the video Chloe sent me is saved because I’ve watched it a million times. I bring up the video and hit play and hold my phone up to show him.

He frowns as he stares at the screen. He watches himself laugh and talk and then turn his attention to the girl’s behind.

I’m so angry that the whole sky has turned crimson.

“So you just fucking lie to me?” he growls. “I thought you were engaged this whole fucking time.”

“You were never going to call me anyway, Henley. What does it matter?”

“I might have.”

“Who on earth do you think you are? You might have . . . pfft. Fuck you,” I huff. I turn and storm toward my house, infuriated.

“Get back here and clean this mess up.”

I flick him the bird and keep walking.

Clean it yourself.

Ugh, why did I agree to this stupid welcome party?

It’s Saturday, and I can see everyone walking across the road to Carol’s house with their platters of food.

I’m dreading this with a passion.

I haven’t spoken to Henley since our fight over Barry. And now I have to go and pretend to everyone that I like him when all I really want to do is tip a drink over his entitled-asshole head.

I take one last look in the mirror and exhale heavily.

All right, I look good.

Feminine while not trying to be sexy. I’m done with being sexy on this street. The appropriate outfit for me right now would actually be a straitjacket, but whatever. This pink maxi dress will work just fine. It’s full and flowing, long, with spaghetti straps.

I grab my platter of hors d’oeuvres and, with my heart in my throat, make my way over to Carol’s house. The sound of chatter echoes through the street, and everyone seems to be in a jovial mood. Carol’s front veranda is full of people, some I’ve never seen before, and they all turn to look at me as I walk across her front lawn. I contemplate turning around and running back home.

Awkward.

“Here she is”—Carol laughs—“the guest of honor.”

“Hi.” I kiss her on the cheek and smile at everyone.

“Hi, Juliet.” One of the boys smiles. Everyone waves. “Hello, hello,” they all chime in.

“Hi.” Oh crap, this is awkward as hell. “Where would you like me to put this?” I gesture to the plate of dips and cheeses that I’ve brought.

“Just inside on the table, sweetheart.”

“Thanks.” I open the screen door and walk inside and smile at Carol’s house. It’s like a step back in time. Photos in frames are all over the walls, and the furnishings are all in perfect condition but date back forty years. There are even three flying ducks on the walls, like you see in the movies. I put my plate onto the table and take my time to rearrange it. Seriously, I just want to go home. This is not enjoyable.

“Hi,” a voice from beside me sounds.

I look up to see a girl with light-brown hair. She’s around my age and pretty. “I’m Rebecca. I live a few doors down; I’ve been meaning to come over and introduce myself, but time has gotten away from me.”

“Oh hi, nice to meet you.” I smile as I shake her hand. “You’re in the blue house?”

“Yes, that’s it.” She gestures to a man across the room and waves him over. He’s blond and good looking and probably in his late thirties. “This is my husband, John.”

“Hello.” I shake his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Sorry I haven’t been over yet. Time flies,” he apologizes.

“Oh no, please, I totally get it.” I shrug. “I’m busy too.”

“What do you do?” he asks to make conversation.

“I’m a nurse.”

“Fantastic,” he replies. “Another medical professional on the street. That makes three of us now. I’m an orthopedic surgeon.”

“Wow.” I smile. I turn my attention back to Rebecca. “Do you work or have children . . . or?”

“God no.” She winces as she pours herself another glass of wine. “I’m a teacher—best contraceptive in the world.” She crosses her eyes as she tips her head back to drink.

I giggle. I like Rebecca already.

“Have you met everyone?” she asks.

“Some.” I shrug. “I work a lot, so I miss most people.”

“Come on”—she takes me by the hand—“I’ll introduce you.”

“Ugh, do you have to?” I whisper.

She giggles. “Unfortunately.” She drags me by the hand over to a group of men. “Boys, this is Juliet. She’s the homecoming queen of today. This is Blake Grayson.” She introduces me. “Blake is a doctor.”

I feel like I know a creepy stalker amount of information about Dr. Grayson already, not that I’ll ever let on.

“Hello.”

“Juliet is a nurse,” Rebecca tells him.

“Are you?” He smiles. “Where do you work?”

“At Lady of Rosemary.”

“You’ve been busy lately; I hear they are at capacity.”

“All the time.”

Rebecca pulls me by the hand again over to an elderly man. He looks to be in his eighties. “This is Winston. He lives in the white house.”

“Hello.” I smile as I shake his hand.

“Hello, dear.” He smiles and has a southern drawl. “Lovely to meet you. I see you running around in the mornings with your dog.”

I giggle. Poor thing. What must I look like? “Nice to meet you too.”

“And this fine specimen is Antony Deluca. He’s your next-door neighbor.”

He smiles, and I feel it to my bones. He’s European and utterly gorgeous. “Hello, Juliet.” He kisses my cheek. “I’ve heard all about you. Nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“Henley, Blake, and Antony are childhood friends.”

“Oh, right.” I smile, surprised. “That’s great.”

“Where’s Henley?” Rebecca asks as she looks around.

“Here I am,” he calls out as he comes through the front door.

“Come and meet Juliet,” Rebecca replies.

“We’ve met.” Henley smiles casually, as if he isn’t the biggest prick in the world.

I’m onto you.

He kisses Rebecca on the cheek and then turns to me. I’ll play nice because we are in public.

“Hi.” I smile.