Didn’t make the bouts of would have been/could have beens any easier to deal with, and the one that had just hit him had been especially rough. The crush of longing, the surge of anger.

Lincoln had needed to get out. Needed to get away, to be alone with his thoughts.

And yet rather than being alone, he’d invited an all but stranger to join him at a particularly vulnerable moment. Why?

He glanced down to where Daisy stood, patiently waiting for him to work through his thoughts. It was strange. Her features were nearly identical to Emma’s, a woman he saw more days than not, and yet when he looked at her, he didn’t see Emma. He saw Daisy.

And it wasn’t just that her hair was lighter or that she had a Southern drawl or that she seemed to have a penchant for pink lipstick while Emma preferred neutrals. It was underneath all that that was different.

“You’re staring,” she said.

“The pink dress. It suits you.”

“It does.” She nodded at his bow tie. “Pink suits you as well.”

Lincoln winced. The suggestion of pink bow ties had been a mistake. He’d done it solely because he knew the guys expected such antics of him, but it only served to bring up more painful memories. He’d meant it as an homage, and instead it felt like a mockery of the wedding that would never be.

He was silent a moment too long, and Daisy gave him a considering look.

“We don’t have to do this,” she said. “I can go back inside. Give you some space.”

Don’t leave me.

The thought came out of nowhere, and he frowned. What was wrong with him? She’d given him the perfect out, and he…

He wasn’t going to take it. He didn’t want to dwell on his melancholy. There’d be plenty of time for that tomorrow.

“And have you go back to holding up that wall with your shoulder blades?” he said, fixing a smile on his face. “I think not. Tell me, Daisy Sinclair, what are your thoughts on New York City?”

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s…busy.”

He made a buzzing noise. “The word you were looking for was energetic. Go on.”

“Noisy?” she supplied.

“Lively. Next.”

“Expensive.”

“Yeah okay,” he admitted. “You’ve got me there. But it’s only expensive because everyone wants to be here.”

“I don’t.”

“Mission accepted.”

“Wait, what? I don’t want—”

“To fall in love with this city? Sure you do.”

Lincoln extended an arm, liking the way she rolled her eyes before taking it. It was strangely refreshing, spending time with a woman who didn’t particularly seem to want to spend time with him.

“So where are we headed?” she asked as they began walking down the sidewalk. “Empire State Building? Statue of Liberty? Brooklyn Bridge?”

“Not tonight, love, I don’t have my fanny pack or selfie stick.”

“Then where to?”

“Dive bar.”

“Um, you’re in a tux and this dress is silk.”

“So we’ll skip the beer pong. Live a little.”

She glanced back over her shoulder. “Are you sure we shouldn’t be back at the wedding? We’re the maid of honor and best man.”

He glanced down at her worried profile. “We can if you’d like. But as far as I can tell, everyone’s knee deep in champagne and optimism. I know Cassidy won’t care. Will Emma?”

“No,” she admitted. “With the way they were eye-boning on the dance floor, I’m not even sure they’ll notice.”

“My thoughts exactly. And I’ve already arranged for the limo to pick them up at midnight to whisk them off to a fancy hotel suite where they can bone for real.”

“Well done, Best Man,” she said, punching his shoulder. “Although I believe the cliché is for us to go to said hotel suite, sprinkle rose petals on the bed.”

“Yes, but then the cliché also would have us being so overwhelmed by the romance of it all that we fall onto said honeymoon bed in a fit of lust.”

He wanted the flirtatious words back almost the second they were out of his mouth. It wasn’t that Lincoln didn’t flirt with women—that was what he did, who he was.

But he had boundaries—topics he didn’t touch, insinuations he didn’t make—and he’d just crossed his own line. He flirted with women, but he kept it PG, always. Referring to him and Daisy in bed together…PG-13, at least.

Hell, the vision of him and naked Daisy that had crossed his mind just now was a lot closer to an R rating.

And it alarmed him a hell of a lot more than he cared to admit.

Lucky for him, Daisy didn’t seem to notice. Instead she tipped her head back and looked up at the sky. “You can’t see the stars here.”

“Can you where you live?” he asked, grateful for the change in subject. Stars were definitely a safer topic than sex.

“Some. My ex wanted a big house on a lot of land, so not too many bright lights around.”

“You still live there?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I got the house in the divorce. He didn’t want it, and at the time I didn’t have the mental energy to think up an alternate plan.”

“And what about now?”

“Now?” She glanced up at the sky. “It’s home.”