Margot Delgado is done.

Done with fourteen-hour days. Done with managing other people's problems. Done with being the one who holds everything together while her own life falls apart at the seams.

So when her flight home lands in New Orleans instead of Chicago—a detour she doesn't remember choosing—she doesn't fight it. She checks into a boutique hotel in the Garden District, puts her phone in a drawer, and waits to remember what it feels like to want something.

She wasn't expecting Julian. The hotel's manager sees too much, says too little, and moves through her defenses like he's been studying them for years.

She definitely wasn't expecting Rémy. The bartender with the easy smile who seems to know what she needs before she does.

She really wasn't expecting both of them. Together.

Done with fourteen-hour days. Done with managing other people's problems. Done with being the one who holds everything together while her own life falls apart at the seams.

So when her flight home lands in New Orleans instead of Chicago—a detour she doesn't remember choosing—she doesn't fight it. She checks into a boutique hotel in the Garden District, puts her phone in a drawer, and waits to remember what it feels like to want something.

She wasn't expecting Julian. The hotel's manager sees too much, says too little, and moves through her defenses like he's been studying them for years.

She definitely wasn't expecting Rémy. The bartender with the easy smile who seems to know what she needs before she does.

She really wasn't expecting both of them. Together.