Chapter 43

A low-key, informal sort of gig. That's what Clay had said. No frills, no pressure.

The cluster of parked cars big enough to occupy half a football field didn't quite fit with Ethan's expectations. People milled around the big blaze in the distance. Fifty or sixty of them, at a guess, and that was just what he could see from the ambient light of the bonfire.

Was Miranda here?

He tried to tell himself it didn't matter if she was. He was man enough to face her and explain. The truth was, he'd behaved badly. Manners and his own conscience dictated he apologize. But he didn't have the first clue what to say.

It's not you, it's me. Right. Because that always went over so well. He'd just have to trust that the right thing would occur to him.