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I could see more of her now, and even though they weren’t identical, her resemblance to her twin brother was unmistakable. This was Nuala, Tristan’s twin sister. He’d spoken of her often during the short time I knew him, and even though we’d never met, I’d gotten the sense that they were close.

“A promise?” the wedding planner asked.

Nuala nodded. “You need to promise me that after you fall apart, you’ll do everything in your power to put yourself back together again.”

“I can try.”

“How are things looking in there?” came a hauntingly familiar voice, and I startled at being caught eavesdropping. The hairs on the back of my neck rose as I turned and found Tristan Balfe standing close behind me, tall and handsome in his three-piece suit. My gaze caught on the firm, hard line of his jaw before I forced myself to act normal.

“I’m not sure. She seems a little better than earlier.”

His attention zeroed in on me, like he was searching for something. “Thank God for my sister,” he said. “She’s the best at pep talks. I’m Tristan, by the way. That was my brother, Derek, who you spoke to before. He’s the one getting married.”

He held out his hand for me to shake, a warm, easy smile shaping his lips, and I hesitated to take his hand for a fraction of a second before my brain kicked into gear, reminding me that I needed to act normal. A stranger wouldn’t freak out at a simple handshake.

When our palms met, skin to skin, my heart gave a swift jolt, his skin warmer than expected as goosebumps scattered across the back of my neck. Teenage memories surged forth of a time I didn’t ever expect to revisit. Then, to my surprise, with his fingers still wrapped around mine, Tristan leaned forward, his gaze pinprick focused on my face as he studied my features with intent.

“Do we know each other?” he asked, a curious, husky quality to his voice.

My panic spiked at the question as I tried my best to speak evenly. “I don’t think so.”

He tilted his head, still not letting go of my hand. “What’s your name?”

“Rinnie.” There was a bit of a frog in my throat as I willed my heart to calm down. “Nice to meet you.”

Something dimmed behind his eyes when I told him my name. Had he remembered me? Was that what he was searching for in my face just now? Maybe I seemed vaguely familiar, and he was wracking his brains to figure where he knew me from. When my name didn’t ring a bell, it clearly disappointed him. He let go of my hand, stepping back a little, and I felt such an intense mixture of relief and disappointment.

“Nice to meet you, too, Rinnie,” he said, my name in his deep voice sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. I nodded, about to leave, when he continued, “Are you sure we don’t know each other? You seem so familiar.”

Ah, hell. It appeared that despite my vastly changed appearance, I wasn’t as completely unrecognisable as I thought. And yes, the part of me that was ridiculously hurt that he didn’t remember me was just a little bit pleased. But I wasn’t about to reveal myself because then he might want answers to the aforementioned questions, and I wasn’t in the right headspace to return to the past. In all honesty, I probably never would be. It was a dark period that I just wanted to forget.

I effected a puzzled look. “I don’t think so.”

A faint smile shaped his lips as he ran a hand over his jaw. “Ah, you must have one of those faces, then.”

“Maybe. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

At my question, his eyes turned slightly hooded, and I stiffened. Was he … checking me out? It had been a while since a man had looked at me with such blatant interest that I almost didn’t clock it at first. And Tristan Balfe was definitely interested. It made sense that he’d find me attractive since he’d liked me when we were teenagers, and I was arguably a lot better looking now than I had been back then.

“This might sound a little forward, but would you like to have a drink with me later?” he asked.

Once again, my brain short-circuited. I wondered at this confidence. Was this a regular thing he did with the women he met, or was there something in particular about me that made him want to get to know me better? The boy I’d known had confidence, sure, but he was also sweet and kind. Was the adult version of Tristan the same, or had he changed? Was he a player or a gentleman? Honestly, the speed and confidence with which he’d asked me out made it hard to tell.

My throat ran dry as I scrambled for a response before finally landing on, “I’m sorry, but it’s against our policy to fraternise with guests.”

One of his eyebrows twitched in something like amusement, which made me suspect he thought I was lying. Then he leaned closer to ask, “What about tomorrow when I’m no longer a guest?”

Well, that was bold question. My cheeks began to heat at his persistence, but before I could respond, Adelaide appeared. I couldn’t have been more relieved for the interruption. “Rinnie, might I have a word?”

I glanced at her, then back to Tristan. “My apologies. I have work to get to.”

Again, his eyebrow twitched, a light in his eyes that told me he found me interesting, which was flattering but also the last thing I needed. “By all means.”

Following Adelaide to the other end of the hallway, I imagined a reality where I might’ve said yes to that drink. If I hadn’t completely sworn off relationships and if I also didn’t want to avoid him remembering who I was, I could’ve agreed. We could’ve enjoyed one another’s company. But that wasn’t an option. Not only because I didn’t want him remembering me and the callous way I’d taken his help, allowed him to develop an attachment to me before abandoning him, but also because I no longer held the capacity to be with people. My relationship with Zach had drained me so much, had taken up so much of my emotional capabilities, that the thought of becoming attached again was terrifying.

Zach had so many emotional issues that it was almost a full-time job handling him. I felt like a sponge created solely to absorb all of his problems, and I refused to be in a situation like that ever again. It just felt like every relationship I knew had a giver and a taker. Even with Sloane and Cooke, Cooke was the giver, and Sloane was the taker. It wasn’t that my sister was a bad person; she’d just had to sacrifice a lot when our dad died, and she became my guardian. When she met Cooke, she finally found someone who would look after her. She could finally rest.

Well, I was a giver by nature, had spent years giving to a man who would never stop taking, and I was finally resting, too. I refused to jeopardise the peace of my single life, even if it meant refusing a drink with a tall, handsome, blond man with kind eyes and a smile that made my belly flutter.