Celine Parker is sitting alone at the bar, nursing a half-empty drink and watching the evening slowly pass.

She’s beautiful enough to attract attention without trying, and she knows it. Men have been approaching her for years, usually with the same intentions and the same shallow interest. She’s long since stopped expecting anything more.

But tonight, something about her seems different.

There’s no excitement in her eyes. No anticipation. Just a quiet, almost practiced acceptance that she’ll finish her drink, perhaps let someone keep her company for a while, and eventually go home alone.

Celine has almost convinced herself that this is enough.

Almost.

She doesn’t need someone to rescue her. She doesn’t need grand romantic gestures or promises of forever. What she secretly wants is something much simpler—and something she has almost stopped believing exists:

Someone who actually wants to know her.

You happen to take the seat beside her.