Istepped out of Le Bouchon on Decatur, where I picked up a few splits of champagne for the store and myself.

It was only May, but already the air hung thick with humidity…and tourists.

Someone was crooning Sinnerman on the street corner—and there was a festive feel to the city as we prepared for the French Quarter Festival, which took over the city right before the Jazz Festival brought the crowds in.

I’d just turned right on Dumaine when I saw them, right next to Voodoo Authentica, walking shoulder to shoulder,ughing.

Move, Naomi, before he sees you.

My lungs forgot how to work for a moment, and finally, when I got my bearings, I let out a broken breath.

They wereing toward me, and any minute now, he’d raise his head and see my heart bleeding on the street corner.

I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. But I had to be able to look at myself in the mirror, so I stayed the course and walked, letting the pain run through me, wash through me, pass through me…without breaking me.

She was tall and beautiful, with legs like a dancer.

He looked rxed, smiling that rare, genuine smile he used to give me when I’d crack some dry, inappropriate joke while straddling him in bed.

He saw me; I felt it even though I wasn’t looking his way, was making an effort not to.

The air all but crackled when we passed each other on the sidewalk, or maybe it was my imagination since he’d obviously moved on and on and on.

While I hadn’t been able to look at another man, Gage was on a date.

On a damn date!

Just the thought brought my heart to my throat, and my stomach twisted in the knot I’d been trying to untangle for months.

Maybe it wasn’t a date, I thought as I turned left on Royal.

Maybe it was someone from work.

Maybe it meant nothing.

Maybe he was just being friendly.

Or…maybe it was something.

And…maybe it was time for me to move on.

I dimly wondered if I was overreacting to simply seeing Gage with another person, and knew that no matter how many lies I told myself and my friends, I wasn’t past Gage. I wasn’t over him. I still hurt. I still missed him.

The worst part was seeing him with another woman for real—and not just in my imagination, where I tortured myself with such thoughts—was a kick in the teeth, a realization that all my hopes that he’d show up and say, “Naomi, I made a big fucking mistake. I love you” were now dashed.

He wouldn’t get on his knees and rip his shirt off as he screamed Naomi while I looked down from my ironce balcony. Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. After all, Stanley had sexually assaulted nche, so having him be some hero in my dreams was all kinds of twisted.

Kadisha grinned at me when I came in.

“You won’t believe who was here,” she gushed.

I managed a smile for my part-time employee.

Kadisha was studying social work at Tne and worked for me between sses and schoolwork. Since business was going well, I hired her for more hours than I needed as a way to pay it forward, doing for her what Madame Marguerite did for me.

“Who?” I asked because she was waiting for me to y the game.

“A bachelorette party!” Her eyes were wide.

“I was gone for like an hour.” I set the bag of champagne bottles on the antique table where we had our register.

She nodded vigorously. “There were ten of them, and they bought all ten of the feather-trimmed tap sets, the matching ckce blindfolds, and—get this—every single pair of the satin ‘Yes, Mistress’ panties we had in stock.”

I did a quick calction and understood why she was so thrilled. That was a two-thousand-dor sale, of which she got a five percentmission.

“Nice work!” I high-fived her.

She picked up the wine bottles. “I’ll put these in the fridge, and then I gotta get to court.”

Kadisha was interning at the public defender’s office as part of her master’s degree in social work.

After Kadisha left, I poured myself some champagne. The hell with it. I deserved a nice ss of Veuve Clicquot after seeing the love of my life move the fuck on with his life.

The son of a bitch!

It was unfair, I knew. It wasn’t his problem that my feelings ran away from me, like a second line disappearing down Royal Street—but seeing him happy with another woman filled me with hurt and jealousy.

I looked at the faux antique clock on the wall and sighed. I had another hour to go before I closed. I could close early if I wanted to, but on Friday evenings, as was just proven with that bachelorette party, things could get interesting. So, I decided to get busy with redoing some of the table disys.

Fifteen minutes before closing, the bell above the door chimed. I looked up from the table I was resetting. A couple walked in—stylish, confident, both dressed in that casual-rich way that said, ‘Money’s not the question, taste is the answer.’

The woman was stunning, with silver-streaked braids, a cropped leather jacket, and a neon green clutch that shed perfectly with her shoes.

The man was tall, sharp, and charismatic as hell. He had that “I own the room, and I know it” energy.

Messy curls, olive skin, tailored cks, and a smile that was half charm, half dare.

He looked damn familiar.

“I told you we had to check this ce out.” The woman scanned one of the table settings that was leaning toward S&M. “It’s always curated to perfection.”

“I never argue with a woman who knows her lingerie,” the man replied with a warm, velvetyugh.

They made a handsome couple. He was all bold angles while she was all fierce femininity. They seemed like precisely the kind of impossibly cool couple who might own a penthouse and adopt rescue greyhounds.

“May I help you?” I said to the woman, and she waved a hand.

“I’m going to browse for a minute.”

“Of course.” I went back to the table I was working on when I smelled the man’s cologne and felt his shadow on me.

“Hi.”

I looked at him and couldn’t help but smile. The man was charm personified. “Can I help you?”

“I think we have amon friend.”

I raised an eyebrow.

He chuckled. “No, really, it’s not a line. Holly Matherson.”

“Oh my God! It’s been an age. She moved to Memphis. How is she?” The words spilled out of me.

Holly had been a friend when I’d first moved to New Orleans, and we continued to stay in touch on and off and met up whenever she was in the city.

But it had been a while.

“She’s good.” He tilted his head. “She’s running her ownw practice.”

I smiled as memories of my friend filed through my head. “If anyone can do it, she can. How do you know her?”

“My cousin dated her for a while…it didn’t end well,” he replied almost sheepishly.

My eyes widened. “Not Cody Lamarre.”

“Unfortunately.” He held out a hand. “Jonah Lamarre.”

Now, I knew why he looked familiar. The Lamarre family owned several high-end restaurants in the Quarter. And Jonah, the heir, was known for his food, his phnthropy, and his good works to improve New Orleans.

I shook his hand. “Cody broke her heart, and now you’re friends with her?”

“Cody is an asshole—but it doesn’t run in the family.” He looked around the store. “I recently saw Holly, and she mentioned your store when I said I wanted to buy something special for….”

“Someone special?” I finished for him when he trailed off.

He gave me another enchanting smile. “I’ve passed your shop a dozen times. I’m d Alia insisted wee in.”

At the mention of her name, the woman looked up and waved with a grin. “I’m already in trouble. I want everything.”

“d to hear it,” I said, still unsure if I was being pranked or if I’d fallen into a very well-lit fever dream. “Should I start a fitting room for you?”

“Yes, please.” Alia handed me six hangers with various body suits and silk nightgowns.

I stepped into the boudoir and set up a room for Alia.

Jonah walked in and whistled in appreciation.

“It’s got a French brothel feel to it.” He sat down on the feminine daybed, looking like a fox in a chicken coop.

“And how would you know?” I teased.

“I’ve seen movies?”

Iughed. “That was exactly the ambiance I was going for.”

I was about to leave when I heard him say, “Would you go out for dinner with me?”

My brain short-circuited.

“I’m sorry—what?” I stammered.

He rose and came up to me. “I think you’re beautiful, and I’d like to get to know you.”

I looked at him, incredulous. “Are you serious?”

“Like a heart attack.”

I turned to look at the fitting room Alia had walked into and heard his softugh. “She’s not my wife.”

My voice went t. “Girlfriend?”

Heughed. “Worse. Sister-inw.”

Alia called from the racks. “Tell her I’m married to your sister, babe. You leave that detail out on purpose just to see if people get nervous?”

“Only when they’re gorgeous and flustered,” he replied, still smiling at me.

I stared at him, unsure whether to grin or hide under the register.

He went on, “I figured I’d ask. If it’s a no, I’ll still leave with a bag ofce for Alia and my sister and a bruised ego. I can take it.”

“I—” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. “Are you always this forward?”

“Only when the window disy looks like someone with taste and a wicked imagination designed it. And when the owner looks like she deserves to be flirted with properly.”

I felt my cheeks warm. “You’re lucky I didn’t just mace you on instinct.”

“I ept that. So…is it a no?”

I looked over at Alia, who came out of the fitting room holding up a dramatic ck-and-pink robe with glee.

I looked back at Jonah, and to my absolute shock, the words came easily. “No. It’s not a no.”

His grin widened. “Good. I’ll text you.”

“You don’t have my number.”

“I will in a second.” He handed me his phone, and I typed it in.

What the hell are you doing, Naomi? Jonah Lamarre is out of your league. He’s high society, and you are…well, you have a mannequin on disy that’s about to y with her pussy for the world to see.

“Do I need to put a note in case you forget who I am?” I was only half-teasing. “Naomi – Local Lingerie Witch?”

“Got it memorized.” There was something warm in his eyes—not possessive, not performative. Genuine.

I felt something loosen in my chest.

After they left—with three silk robes, two bralettes, and a matching pearl thong—I locked the door, leaned against it, andughed. A soft, breathy sound I hadn’t made in what felt like forever.

If Gage could date, so could I.

And I was going to go out with Jonah Lamarre.

I was definitely trading up!