“Happy birthday, Em,” she said, air-kissing my cheek. “You look tired.”
“Good to see you too, Lauren.”
She grinned. “Relax. It’s your night.”
That was the first lie of the evening.
Grant kissed me near the door, a light brush of lips that felt like obligation instead of affection. He looked handsome, of course. He always did. Navy suit, open collar, expensive watch, that easy confidence that made strangers assume he had built everything around him with his own two hands.
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