And if it saved her from humiliation at Grace’s wedding, then it was worth the risk.
4
The wine bar smelled like polished wood and something faintly citrus. Kelsey stepped inside, her ankle boots clicking against the dark hardwood. The place was dim, the kind of dim that made everything feel intentional—like the low hum of conversation, the clink of glasses, the way the light caught the edges of bottles lined up behind the bar.
She had rushed here, her heart pounding the whole way. Three outfit changes, a frantic session with the curling wand, and a last-minute dash to the subway. Her hair was down, falling in waves she’d spent too long perfecting. The black top and dark jeans were a careful choice, paired with ankle boots that made her legs look longer than they were. She’d wanted to look just right, even if this wasn’t a real date.
The thought made her stomach flip—she was going on what looked an awful lot like a date with Elizabeth.
And then she saw her.
Elizabeth stood at the bar, one elbow resting on the polished surface, her back straight as if she were in a boardroom instead of a wine bar. The navy blazer hugged her shoulders, the fabric catching the light just enough to make Kelsey’s pulse jump. Herhair was down, dark and loose around her face, and Kelsey’s fingers twitched at her sides like they wanted to reach out and test the weight of it.
Elizabeth turned, her gaze locking onto Kelsey’s like she’d been waiting. Like she’d known exactly when Kelsey would walk in.
Kelsey’s breath hitched. This couldn’t be real. She was standing in a wine bar with Elizabeth, the woman she’d spent months watching from behind the café counter, the woman whose slight smile could make her stomach flip. And now here she was, looking at Kelsey like she was expected.
Then Elizabeth’s eyes flicked to her watch, and the moment shattered.
“You’re late,” Elizabeth said, her voice cool, measured. Not unkind, just… precise. Like she was stating a fact.
Kelsey blinked, her face warming. “I—what? No, I’m not. It’s seven-oh-four.”
Elizabeth’s lips pressed together, just for a second. “We arranged to meet at seven.”
Kelsey’s fingers curled into her palms, her nails biting into her skin. She had rushed, had checked her phone twice on the subway, had hurried the last block because she didn’t want to keep Elizabeth waiting. But then there had been the curling wand, the way her hands had shaken when she’d tried to clasp the necklace, the way she’d stood in front of her mirror, her heart pounding, because this wasn’t just a meeting. This was Elizabeth. And Kelsey had wanted, just for tonight, to look like someone who belonged in her world.
She swallowed, her throat dry. “I thought seven meant seven.”
Elizabeth studied her for a beat, then waved a hand like it didn’t matter. “What are you drinking?”
“A glass of the Sancerre, please.”
Elizabeth turned to the bartender, her voice smooth and certain. “A glass of the Domaine Vacheron Sancerre for her. And for me, a glass of the 2018 Château Lynch-Bages.”
The bartender nodded, already pouring.
Kelsey’s throat went dry. Of course Elizabeth would order like that. No hesitation, no “whatever’s good.” Just the name, the vintage, like she’d known exactly what she wanted before she even walked in. Like she always did.
Elizabeth’s card was out before Kelsey could blink, sliding across the bar with the quiet confidence of someone who never questioned whether she belonged.
Kelsey followed her to a booth in the back, the kind with high-backed seats that made the rest of the bar feel far away. Elizabeth slid in first, her blazer brushing against the leather, and Kelsey sat across from her, her fingers curling around the stem of her wineglass. The glass was cold. She focused on that—the weight of it, the way the condensation beaded down the sides.
This was really happening.Oh god, this was really happening.She was sitting across from Elizabeth, the woman she’d been quietly obsessed with for months, and the weight of it pressed down on her chest like a hand. Her pulse was too fast, her skin too warm, and she couldn’t tell if the buzz under her ribs was fear or something far more dangerous.Exhilarateddidn’t even cover it—this was the kind of thrill that made her fingers tremble, the kind that could either be the start of something or the most spectacular crash of her life.
Elizabeth didn’t waste time. She reached into her bag and pulled out a slim folder, setting it on the table between them. “I drafted something,” she said, her voice low. “It’s straightforward. But I want to go over it with you first.”
Kelsey’s stomach twisted. She hadn’t expectedthis—not the folder, not the way Elizabeth was looking at her like this was just another business meeting. Like Kelsey was a client.
She should have known.
Elizabeth opened the folder, sliding a single sheet of paper across the table. Kelsey didn’t touch it. She just stared at the neat, typed lines, the bold headers.
“This is a standard independent contractor agreement,” Elizabeth said, tapping a finger against the paper. “It outlines the terms of our arrangement. What you’ll be expected to do. What I’ll provide in return.”
Kelsey’s throat went dry. “You really made a contract for this.”
Elizabeth’s gaze flicked up, sharp. “I don’t do things without clear terms.”