Gordon was absolutely certain about one thing: the words "confess my feelings" simply didn't exist in his vocabulary.

He was a firm believer in staying single for life.

There was no way he'd ever make the first move-ever.

He would rather eat his shoes than be the one to blurt out a confession.

When she heard him, Alaina rolled her eyes and said, "Gordon, don't be so sure. What if you meet a girl you actually like one day?"

In Alaina's mind, Caitlin was already the exception to Gordon's many, many rules. Sure, her brother might still be clueless, but she had no doubt that eventually, he'd fall for Caitlin. It was just a matter of time.

Meet a girl he liked? The idea was laughable.

Gordon arched an eyebrow, his tone cool and detached. "That kind of thing has about the same odds as winning the lottery. It's never going to happen to me."

He wasn't the kind of man to break his own rules. Not now, not ever.

Alaina looked like she wanted to argue the point, but before she could, Beatrice grabbed her arm and said, “Let's not waste time on stubborn mules, honey. People like Gordon have to learn the hard way. Just wait till he lets a girl like Caitlin slip through his fingers-he'll be sobbing harder than the melodramatic hero on TV right now."

Alaina nodded. "You're right, Mom. Let's just watch the show."

Beatrice pressed play, and the living room filled with the gentle strains of background music. Gordon glanced at the television. On screen, under a flurry of snow, the leading lady and the charming best friend had just confessed their feelings and were now wrapped in a romantic embrace—a picture-perfect moment.

Except, as Gordon watched, something strange happened. The best friend's face blurred and morphed, until it looked exactly like Farrell Ryan. And the heroine's face became Caitlin's.

Caitlin and Farrell? Kissing? Holding each other?

A jolt of panic shot through Gordon. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The faces hadn't changed back.

Crash!

His glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.

The noise startled Beatrice so badly she nearly jumped off the couch. "Good Lord! Was that an earthquake?"

Alaina turned around, frowning. "Gordon, what's wrong?"

Snapping back to reality, Gordon stooped to pick up the pieces. "Nothing-I just dropped my glass."

He glanced at the TV again. The scene was back to normal. He exhaled in relief and headed upstairs. But even after he closed himself in his study, the image of Caitlin and Farrell together lingered, replaying in his mind along with Beatrice's words: "Just wait till he lets a girl like Caitlin slip away-he'll cry harder than the guy on TV."

Would he really?

Would Caitlin actually end up with Farrell?

Gordon set down his papers and pressed his fingers to his temples, trying to clear his head. He needed to focus, to stop spiraling into pointless worry.

A few minutes later, he picked up the file again, but the words on the page swam before his eyes. Every paragraph seemed to spell out "Caitlin" in bold letters.

With a frustrated sigh, Gordon

closed the file, pulled out his phone, and opened WhatsApp. Dozens of unread messages stared back at him, but he scrolled straight past them, only stopping when he reached Caitlin's name.

Their last conversation was from yesterday.

Where was she now? Who was she with? Could she be with Farrell? After all, Farrell was still her fiancé-at least on paper.

Gordon stared at their chat window, debating whether to message her. He typed out "Are you there?" then deleted it. He tried, "Still awake?" and deleted that, too.

Meow.

At that moment, Snow, his fluffy white cat, strutted into the room. Gordon's lips curled at the sight. He double-tapped Caitlin's profile picture—a playful feature on WhatsApp that let you "poke" someone.

Caitlin saw the notification and sent back a single question mark.

[?]

Gordon quickly typed: [Snow just stepped on my phone. Sorry if you got a weird alert.]

Then he scooped Snow into his arms and snapped a quick selfie of the two of them. In the photo, Gordon's sharp features and cool gaze looked almost intimidating especially with a ball of fluff on his lap.

He sent her the picture with a caption: [Suspect has been apprehended. Miss

Kensington, how do you wish to punish the culprit?]

[Three cans of cat food for dinner!] Caitlin replied.

Gordon grinned, then asked: [What about Monday? Is he home?]

[He's here.]

A moment later, Caitlin sent back a picture of Monday, her enormous dog, gnawing on a bone nearly bigger than he was a special treat from Keira.

Monday's bed was right next to a tall window. The curtains were open and, if you looked closely, you could see a reflection in the glass: Caitlin, in pink bunny-print pajamas, crouched beside the dog, a a soft

smile on her lips, watching Monday with a fondness that was almost childlike.

So different from her usual self.

Seeing her reflection in the photo,

Gordon felt a wave of relief. He quickly typed: [How about a run tomorrow morning? You bring Monday, I'll bring Snow. Let's finally introduce them. And after we can grab breakfast at that diner with the amazing pulled pork sandwiches?]