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I knew something was up when Iris, Lourdes, and Estella came to the house and started huddling around Ro near the end of our workday, talking in hushed voices.

Ro hadn’t even bothered to tell me they were coming over.

They all disappeared into her wing of the house. For hours.

And then suddenly they were all downstairs again, heading for the front door, all except for Ro.

I’d been lounging in the sitting room at the front of the house with a sleeping Mac on my lap, not even trying to hide the fact that I was just waiting for them.

I set Mac carefully down and stood when they appeared, and all three women froze at the sight of me, and then made polite greetings as though they weren’t acting suspicious as hell.

Everyone was quite pleasant to me.

Lourdes shot me a few sympathetic looks like she might have a clue what I was going through but didn’t say anything.

Estella gave me a big hug and patted me on the back, a consoling gesture. I took it. I needed it.

Iris just studied me like she was wondering what was wrong with me. She waited while the other two women filed out of the front door to say to me chidingly, “How could you let her go, Turner? You guys were perfect for each other.”

I just shook my head. I didn’t have a good answer, and the way she said it felt like a knife to the gut, like she was sure I had blown it beyond all possibility of repair.

When they were gone, I started pacing the house, Mac at my heels. I was passing Ro’s office for maybe the dozenth time when I realized she was actually in it.

I backtracked, then stared at her.

And stared.

“What did you do?” I asked her with narrow-eyed suspicion.

“Are you referring to my hair?” she asked back.

That was part of it. It was down and curled. And she was wearing a short floral dress that showed off her figure in a very distracting way. She even had on cute little heels.

Also she had a full face of makeup on, which I’d never seen before. She didn’t need it. Her skin was perfect without.

“I prefer it the other way,” I told her gruffly.

She glared at me. It was adorable.

“What are you all dressed up for?”

“I’m going out,” she said, tone idle.

“Where?” I asked, sick dread hollowing out my stomach.

“Dinner,” said Ro, annoyance starting to creep into her answers.

“By yourself?” I asked. My fingertips were shaking. I thought I might throw up.

“With a friend.” Her tone was flat, fully annoyed now.

“Just one friend?” I asked grimly.

“Does it matter? What’s with the third degree?”

I felt possibly more harassed than I ever had in my entire life.

“Stop prevaricating and answer the question,” I said with fake calm.