Chapter 11
Lila
The charity gala. Sophie’s dad. My mum. Our shop. These are the things I should be thinking about.
Not Ben. Not his hands. Not his mouth. Not the fact that even now, I can still feel him on me, days later.
I shake the thought loose, exhaling hard as I move through the grand ballroom of the Kingsley Hotel, the scent of fresh roses, eucalyptus, and candle wax wrapping around me.
The charity fundraiser is in full swing—guests in sleek evening wear sipping champagne, laughter and polite conversation humming beneath the soft melody of the string quartet.
The event is perfect. Every table adorned with carefully arranged bouquets, every flower placed with intention, with meaning.
My work.
I should be proud. I should be soaking it in, the elegance, the success, the way Sophie’s father lights up when guests approach him, shaking his hand, telling him how important this cause is.
Instead, I’m hiding in plain sight.
Keeping myself busy, flitting from table to table, adjusting stems that don’t need adjusting, making sure the hydrangeas aren’t drinking up too much water.
Because if I stop—if I stand still for even a second, I might actually have to deal with the fact that I kissed Ben Ashcroft.
That I let myself want him.
Again.
A champagne flute appears in front of me. “You look like you need this.”
I glance up. Sophie.
Her gaze is sharp, amused, far too perceptive for my liking.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “Just making sure everything looks perfect.”
She tilts her head, unconvinced. “Lila, the event is stunning. The flowers are stunning. You look stunning. However, you also look like you might start arranging cutlery next if someone doesn’t stop you.”
I sigh, taking the glass. “I just need to stay busy.”
Sophie hums. “Right and this has absolutely nothing to do with Ben?”
I nearly choke on my drink.
“I—”
She lifts a hand. “Don’t even try. I saw the way you practically bolted out of the Kingsley yesterday. One second you were storming in, ready to commit murder, next thing I know, you’re gone without a trace. Her eyes narrow, sharp with suspicion. “You know him, don’t you?”
I freeze for a split second too long. Sophie’s gaze sharpens, locking in like a predator sensing weakness. Willow appears beside her like some kind of interrogation backup, her eyes glint, victorious. “I knew it.”
I exhale sharply, dragging a hand through my hair. “It’s… complicated.”
Sophie’s lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk. “Complicated?” she echoes, drawing out the word like she’s savouring it. “Lila, you don’t do complicated.”
“That’s exactly why this is a problem,” I mutter.
Willow grins. “Tell me this doesn’t sound like something straight out of a novel.”
I throw my hands up. “Not at all!”
Willow ignores me, already counting on her fingers. “Angsty backstory? Check. Unresolved tension? Check. A heated confrontation in a penthouse suite?”
Sophie’s eyes sparkle. “Did you fight in the suite? Was there yelling? Oh my God, was there a desk involved?”
I groan. “Stop.”
But a tiny, traitorous part of me wishes it was just a book.
Wishes it came with a guaranteed happy ending, where things would miraculously fall into place.
Meeting these women through the book club has been a blessing, a lifeline I didn’t know I needed.
Their friendships have made the long hours, the stress, the uncertainty easier to bear.
But the sad truth is the past doesn’t come back to fix things.
It comes back to wreck everything all over again.
In real life, the man who once promised me always is now the one holding the power to take it all away.
This isn’t some neatly plotted romance. It’s my life and right now? It’s a goddamn mess. Sophie’s still watching me, her amusement fading into something softer. “Lila,” she says carefully, “what really happened?”
Before I can answer, Olivia rushes in, slightly breathless, Maeve in tow.
“Sorry, sorry! We had a juice-related incident,” Olivia announces, adjusting Maeve’s dress. “We were almost on time and then someone,” she gives Maeve a pointed look, “spilled juice all over her dress and of course, only this dress would do.”
Maeve crosses her arms, standing her ground. “It’s my fancy dress.”
Sophie, clearly enjoying the distraction, crouches to Maeve’s level. “Well, it is very fancy.”
Maeve beams. “I know.”
Willow shakes her head, laughing. “This kid’s confidence could rule the world.”
Olivia sighs. “She knows it.”
The tension in my chest eases just slightly. This—the laughter, the teasing, the warmth between us—is exactly what I needed. This night isn’t about Ben. It’s about Sophie’s dad. It’s about the community, the people we love, the reason we all came together to make this happen.
I nod toward the entrance. “Come on. We have a fundraiser to run.”
Sophie watches me for a second longer, clearly not done with prying, but she lets it go, for now.
But something tells me she won’t let me escape for long.
***
I stand near the edge of the ballroom, watching Marcus as he kneels beside Maeve, who’s perched on a velvet settee like a tiny queen. Her curls bounce as she giggles, clutching a half-eaten cookie.
Marcus holds up a finger, his tone mock-serious. “Now, Miss Maeve, you promised me one dance later.”
Maeve’s eyes light up, and she nods vigorously. “But you have to spin me.”
Marcus grins, ruffling her hair. “Deal. The best spins for the best little princess.”
I can’t help but smile as I watch him, his attention completely focused on Maeve. Then he stands, lifting her up effortlessly and settling her against his hip as he turns to Sophie.
The way they look at each other… God, it’s like they’re the only two people in the room. Sophie’s gaze softens as she reaches out to touch Maeve’s cheek, her hand lingering on Marcus’s arm.
Maeve leans in, whispering loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Uncle Marcus, you’re my favourite.”
Marcus chuckles. “Good. Let’s keep it that way, kiddo.”
Maeve beams, soaking in the attention, her small hands resting on Marcus’s shoulders as he holds her securely. My eyes flick back to Marcus, who’s now spinning Maeve around like they’re dancing, the little girl’s laughter ringing out, bright and unrestrained.
Olivia exhales a small, wistful breath. “He’s amazing with her,” she murmurs, but there’s something in the way she says it—something quiet, almost careful.
I glance at her, catching the way her fingers toy with the hem of her sleeve, the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.
Her eyes stay fixed on Maeve, but her voice drops, quieter now. “If only her dad would just spend five minutes with her.”
She exhales sharply, like the weight of those words has been pressing on her for too long.
“That’s all it would take, you know? Five minutes.
” Her voice wavers, barely above a whisper.
“If he’d just spend some time with her, he’d see how amazing she is.
How she has this big, open heart that only knows how to love. ”
She swipes a hand over her face, as if trying to push the thought away. “But he won’t. She’ll keep growing, keep loving and he’ll never know what he’s missing.”
I reach for her hand, squeezing it gently. “She has you, Olivia.”
She swallows, her gaze still locked on her daughter. “I know.” A small, sad smile flickers across her lips. “I just hope that’s enough.”
I hesitate for half a second. Olivia isn’t the type to show cracks in her armour. She’s the one who always has a plan, always pushes forward, always knows what to do. Seeing her like this, raw and uncertain, makes my chest ache.
I slide an arm around her shoulders and pull her in. She stiffens at first, like she’s not used to being the one comforted, but then she exhales, sinking into the hug.
For a moment, she stays still, her breath a little uneven against my shoulder. Then, so softly I almost miss it, she murmurs, “Thank you.”
I squeeze her a little tighter. “Always.”
Marcus’s phone buzzes. He shifts Maeve to his hip, frowning slightly as he glances at the screen. He smoothly shifts Maeve into Sophie’s arms as he takes the call.
“Excuse me a second.”
Sophie’s brows furrow as she watches him walk a few steps away, the easy smile slipping from her face. “Is everything okay?”
Willow shrugs, keeping Maeve entertained with silly faces. “Maybe it’s one of his big-shot friends.”
Marcus returns a moment later, his expression tight. “So, minor hiccup,” he says, trying for casual but clearly failing. “Our final auction item just fell through.”
“What?” Sophie’s eyes widen. “Which one?”
“Dr Patterson,” Marcus sighs. “He’s caught up at the hospital. He was supposed to offer an evening of his company, brainy science stuff, you know? He was a big draw.”
Panic ripples through our little group. The auction is a key part of the fundraiser, and a last-minute cancellation is a logistical nightmare.
“Okay,” Sophie breathes, tapping her temple as if conjuring ideas. “We need a replacement. Fast.”
“Someone interesting,” Willow adds, bouncing Maeve slightly on her hip. “Someone people would actually pay to spend an evening with.”
The three of them turn to me in unison.
I blink. “What?”
Willow’s eyes light up. “Lila, you could do it!”
I stare at her like she’s just sprouted a second head. “Me? Why would anyone bid to spend an evening with me?”
Sophie rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. You’re charming, you’re talented, and you run one of the most beloved businesses in the community. You’re perfect.”
“You can offer something unique,” Olivia adds, her excitement growing. “Like an evening baking lesson. Or a private flower arrangement class. People would love that!”
I open my mouth to argue, but Willow steps in, nodding firmly. “She’s right. It’s a great idea.”
“But—”
Maeve bounces in Willow’s arms, eyes wide. “I’d bid for cookies!”
I can’t help the small laugh that escapes me, despite the lingering nerves. “You’d be my only customer, Maeve.”
Marcus sets a hand on my shoulder, his expression warm and sincere. “Seriously, Lila. You’d be helping us out.”
I hesitate, my heart pounding. But as I look around the room—at Sophie, at Marcus. This is a great cause, something that is close to their hearts, I know I can’t say no.
“Fine,” I say, exhaling sharply. “But don’t blame me if it’s a flop.”
Sophie claps her hands together, her grin wide and bright. “It’s going to be amazing. I can feel it.”
“Great,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “Now I just have to hope some poor soul wants to spend an evening with me.”
Sophie grins, hooking her arm through mine. “Trust me, Lila. This is going to be the highlight of the night.”
God, I hope not.