Happenstance(31)

“Good! Good.” She trades a look with my father that turns a bolt in my stomach. “Actually, we spoke to someone at the recruitment center. They’re willing to let you reapply for service, if that’s something you were still interested in—”

“Oh! No. No, that’s okay.” I strive for casual, but there’s a winded quality to my tone. “No, I have this great job here at the Times,” I half-lie, hoisting my pinched together fingers into view. “I’m this close to having my byline printed. It’s…good here. I’m good.”

I can tell they want to look at each other again. That they’ll be weighing every word I say in a lengthy discussion as soon as we end the FaceTime. I love my parents more than life itself. They love me the same way. Despite my untethered upbringing, they’ve always done everything in their power to make me happy.

But things have changed between us.

They used to get so excited when I told them about a new idea, a new venture. They applauded my ingenuity with the food truck. They cheered me on when I started real estate courses. Through all my harebrained ideas, they backed me up. But when I was rejected by their beloved marines for service, on the grounds that my work history showed a glaring lack of commitment, they started to lose faith. As did I.

Now, even when I reassure them, they only look worried.

Doubtful.

“Oh my gosh, I just realized I’m running late. Can I give you a call tomorrow?”

My mom’s smile is forced. Dad isn’t bothering to fake one at all.

With a fist-sized lump in my throat, I hang up before they can say anything else.

Then I stand up and hurry through putting on the pink dress.

If nothing else, tonight is the biggest distraction I could ask for.





Chapter Nine





My Uber pulls up in front of the Conrad, a downtown hotel, but I make no move to get out. Instead, I watch through the fogged back window as people climb out of black town cars and limousines, the women in sleek, black dresses, the men in tuxedos. I might be wearing a bright pink selection from the last chance rack at Marshall’s, but these people don’t intimidate me. Not at all. They wish they could pull off this shade of bubble gum.

No, I’m intimidated by the flutter of protectiveness in my ribcage that happens when I see Gabe standing outside, waiting for me, hands tucked into the pockets of his triple XL tux. He nods at guests who walk past him through the glass doors, almost bashful. A shy giant who steals personal possessions and is ready to throw down for the chance to taste me first. He’s more than meets the eye. A lot more.

If only I could stick around long enough to find out.

I’m thanking the Uber driver and climbing out to meet Gabe before I’m aware of my actions, the cold air kissing every inch of my bare skin. He sees me coming and his lips part slightly, a white puff of breath momentarily obscuring his face. Not so much that I can’t see his relief, though.

“Elise. You look…unreal.” He approaches me like a football player waiting on-field for the kickoff, focused and already taking off his jacket. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”

“Why?” I raise my chin with way too much attitude to counteract the unfamiliar sensations he’s stirring inside of me. “Because you stole my ID? Again? Except you took it out of my wallet this time?”

His ears darken. “I wanted to send you flowers so bad,” he says gruffly, draping the warm material around my shoulders. “Why do you never have a goddamn coat?”

My lips tingle when he scolds me in that worried tone of voice. “I didn’t have one that matched this dress,” I manage.

“That dress…” His chest rises and shudders back down. “I hate dancing, but someone’s got to dance with you looking like that.”

“You will.” I allow him to take my right hand. Hold my breath as he brings it to his mouth and kisses the pulse at the small of my wrist. “That’s why I’m here, right?”

He makes a scrape of a sound. “Right.”

We intertwine our fingers like we’ve done it hundreds of times before and there’s an answering clench in my stomach. It’s different than the comforting tingles I get for Banks. Or the agitating hunger Tobias inspires in me. My reaction to Gabe is protectiveness wrapped in lust, but I can tell he also wants to guard me. I’m his defender when I hold his hand, while also very well aware he would do the same in a heartbeat. That certainty is etched deep, even after such a short period of time.

“Are your brother and Candace already inside?” I ask quietly.

He swallows, something like dread playing in his gaze. “Everyone I know is inside.”

I push up on my toes and kiss the underside of his bearded jaw. “Good.”

Without stopping to address the question in his eyes, I nod at the doorman and pull Gabe through the entrance. We’re guided by tall, flickering candle pillars to an elevator and brought up, past a dozen floors of hotel rooms and conference centers, to the very top of the Conrad. Music starts to pound in the rhythm of a heartbeat before the doors even open—but when they do, I’m struck by a rare, uncharacteristic fear that I’m out of my league.

It's like something out of a movie. It’s how the other half parties.

The ballroom glows like the inside of a dark amethyst.