“Make a pot of hangover soup and bring it up.”


    Two minutester, Soren opened his door and<b>, </b>standing at the top of the <b>stairs</b><b>, </b>looked down and issued the order.


    The ache from her earlier collision had dulled to numbness–it hardly hurt at all now. Evangeline said nothing, just moved quietly into the kitchen. She prepared the hangover soup, then carried it to the doorway of Soren’s room.


    Just as she was about to knock and enter, she heard a woman’s voice inside.


    Poppy was awake.


    Evangeline hesitated for a couple of seconds, then set the soup down outside the door and knocked gently.


    “I’ve left the soup outside,” she said.


    “Alright.” Soren’s tone was unreadable. “Got it.”


    Inside, Poppy was starting to sober up, ncing curiously around the unfamiliar


    room.


    “You had too much to drink. You even tossed your house key into the river, so I brought you back here, Soren exined, assuming she was confused.


    Earlier, after driving Poppy around the city for a while, their conversation had drifted to memories of the past. Poppy discovered there was wine in the car and suggested they pull over by the river to share a couple of drinks.


    Soren had intended to refuse.


    But Poppy had looked so sad, haunted by old regrets. And while it was true that the Fawkes family had yed a part in their breakup, Soren knew he bore some of the me as well. He couldn’t bring himself to turn her away and ended up having a couple of sses with her.


    He knew Poppy couldn’t hold her liquor, but he hadn’t realized just how little. would take–after just two drinks, she waspletely out of it.


    Soren tried to take her home, but she tossed her house key into the river in a drunken stupor.


    With no idea what the code to her apartment was, and unwilling to abandon a barely conscious woman at a hotel, Soren felt he had no choice but to bring her


    <b>back </b><b>to </b><b>his </b>ce.


    “I really owe you an apology for making such a spectacle of myself <b>in </b><b>front </b><b>of </b>you Poppy said, rubbing her forehead sheepishly.


    Soren waved it off. “Don’t worry about it.”


    “Still, you really can’t handle your drinks. You should be more careful next time. What if-


    –


    He trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid..


    Poppy caught his meaning, her eyes curving with a yful smile. “Are you worried about me?”


    Soren pressed his lips together, saying nothing.


    “You don’t have to. I never drink with other men,” she said softly. “I only trust you because–well, you were the man I once loved.” She put extra emphasis on the words “once loved.” “Still, I appreciate how much you care.”


    She nced at Soren, searching his expression. When she saw he wasn’t annoyed, she smiled and reached up as if to cup his face.


    But before she could touch him, Soren stood up, her hand brushing only the fabric of his shirt before it hovered awkwardly in the air.


    “That’s good,” he said evenly. “The soup’s ready. I’ll go get it.”


    As Soren’s tall, broad figure crossed the room, Poppy’s bright smile faltered. She lowered her gaze, unsettled by a vague restlessness in her chest.


    Soren had always been the same with her. Whenever she tried to get closer, he would gently and politely draw the line.


    She knew that after all these years, the only reason Soren treated her with such patience was out of lingering guilt.


    She’d always believed that, with time, she could turn that guilt into something more–make Soren change his feelings for her.


    And as for Evangeline, the woman the Fawkes family had forced into Soren’s life, Poppy had never given her a second thought. She was sure that even if Soren and Evangeline were married, it was only a matter of time before they divorced.


    But recently, things had started to slip out of her control.


    Two hourster, Evangeline finally heard Soren leave the guest room. His steady footsteps echoed down the hallway and then faded as he descended the stairs, stopping at the study below.


    Evangeline didn’t bother to wonder what had happened in those two hours. She was too tired to torment herself with questions.


    She picked up the newly drafted divorce agreement–one that would leave her with nothing–and went downstairs to knock on the study door.