I get out of the car and take a deep breath. Throwing my shoulders back, I march up the stairs and knock on the blue doors, locked until the invitation-only opening gala starts. One of the security guys opens it, and his eyes go wide before he steps to the side to let me through.

I walk past the open entry and up the red stairs. Tyler squeals when she sees me—she’s putting the finishing touches on the tables lining the walls. They’re covered with white tablecloths, and several have bartenders behind them lining up bottles of wine. The nitpicky part of my brain thinks they really ought to have rich, dark beer if they want to celebrate ancient Egypt, but I suppose it’s not as classy.

“So . . .” Tyler waves her hands at the tables. Each one has a tall stone vase of reeds on either end.

“Perfect! You nailed it.”

“Have you seen the room yet?”

“No! Have you?” My stomach twists with nerves.

“No one has.”

I take a deep breath, then scrunch up my nose. “We should wait for Ry. We couldn’t have done this without him.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that, or he’ll never let you live it down,” she says, her eyes twinkling as she looks over my shoulder.

“It’s true. He was amazing. If it—” Suddenly it hits me what she must be looking at that is so entertaining. “I take it back. It was all me. I let you and Ry help out of the goodness of my heart. I would have finished days ago without you two getting in my way.”

“Is that so?” Ry says, and I turn around. I’m glad I’ve already steeled my face into a mock scowl, because otherwise my jaw would drop, and that would be inexcusable. He’s in a deep-blue dress shirt, top button undone, and black pin-striped slacks. No one should be able to look equally good in jeans and a tee as they do dressed up.

“You look,” he says, his eyes drinking me in the way I want to drink him in, “absolutely amazing.”

I smirk. “You look rather pretty yourself.”

“And Tyler looks devastatingly gorgeous,” Tyler says. “Why, thank you, Tyler!”

I rip my eyes away from Ry and tug Tyler’s ash-blond ponytail. “That goes without saying. I love your hair like this, by the way. Now let’s go see our room.”

I take a deep breath and then open the double doors wide. The floodlights are gone, and the room is completely black save for the light seeping in from behind me. “Here goes,” I whisper, reaching down and flipping the switch on the power strip hidden next to the door. Tyler draws in a sharp breath and I close my eyes, waiting just a few seconds before I straighten and open them.

The stars glimmer around us, creating the illusion of space in the darkness. The displays are each bathed in a warm glow, standing out like islands of light in eternity, just how I’d envisioned.

Ry slips his hand into mine and squeezes.

I squeeze back.

A throat clears behind us and I whip around to see Michelle. She’s staring at the room with a grin on her face, but a tightness around her brown eyes warns me that there’s something wrong.

“What?” It’s not the room. It can’t be the room. Amun-Re, the room is perfect. She has to think the room is perfect. We pulled it all off, in record time, and it looks amazing. She can’t hate it. She can’t.

“We have a problem,” she croaks. Her voice is tortured; it sounds like sandpaper scraping along her vocal cords. “I can’t do the tour for the guests.”

Tyler holds her hands up in the air like someone has a gun on her. “I can’t! I haven’t practiced anything! Oh, gosh, I’ll end up babbling and saying something completely inappropriate and forgetting everything I ever knew about ancient Egypt. I’m forgetting it all even thinking about doing it. I’ll quit right now before I’ll ad-lib a tour.”

Ry’s hand is still in mine, and something about the skin contact and the completely irrational and inexplicable electric current it’s sending buzzing through my body makes me feel buoyant and invincible. I was supposed to drift on the edges tonight, but it’s still my night, and I’ll own it.

“I can do it.”

A little over an hour later, and the bravado I felt volunteering has collapsed and sits sour and flopping like a dying fish in my stomach. I’m in the hall corner outside of the still-closed room, leaning against the wall, looking at all the people. There are so many people. Why are they here? They shouldn’t be here. This is going to be a disaster. Why do I even need to talk? Surely the room speaks for itself.

I wish Michelle hadn’t told all the bartenders that Ry, Tyler, and I were too young for drinks. I hate wine, but anything sounds like a good idea right now.

“Hey,” Ry says, and I startle, unaware he’d made his way through the crowds to stand next to me. “Nervous?”

“No,” I say, but it comes out a whisper.

“You’ll be brilliant. I know it. I’ve got a present for you.”

I raise an eyebrow, glad to have something to focus on other than my impending embarrassment. “Oh?”

“I didn’t have time to wrap it, but . . .” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold cuff bracelet, open on a nearly invisible hinge. It’s been etched with a design—scarab beetles, pushing the sun around the edges—and an oval jade stone in the center has raised gold around it to make it into the body of a scarab. He takes my hand and slips it over my wrist, closing it with a tiny snap. It fits like it was made for me.