Andres patted his arm with genuine sympathy. “Hon, you still get major kudos for holding out that long, but you didn’t have to. We’re here to support you, after all.”
“If by support you mean berate and ridicule.”
Isabella’s hand settled on his other arm and squeezed, reminding him to step back and take a breath. “If you don’t want to come to the gala, you don’t have to. I would love to see you gussied up, and Liv would be over the moon, but I know stuffy parties aren’t your favorite thing.”
Andres leaned closer, fingers tapping together with evil interest. “Which gala is it, if I may ask?”
“It’s for the Flanagan Trust.”
Heath’s ears perked. “Flanagan?”
Andres carried on, ignoring him per usual. “I didn’t know they had a gala.”
“They didn’t before the expansion. This will be the first year.”
“Like those well-to-do fuddy-duddies don’t have enough excuses to drink champagne and wear couture,” Andres scoffed.
“Says the man who gleefully accepts any and all gala invitations, for that very reason.”
Andres tugged the little loop on Shawn’s collar. “Feeling bratty, are we? We’ll just see about that.”
Goosebumps rose across the younger man’s skin as a visible shudder of delight trembled through him. Heath averted his eyes, feeling voyeuristic and melancholy in the same breath.
“I’ll go,” he decided, speaking the words aloud before he could change his mind.
Isabella squealed with glee and squeezed his arm. “Oh, I’m so excited! Don’t worry about a thing, okay? We’ve got it covered.”
“We? Thing? I’m worried, and I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Andres tutted. “Your tux, darling. You can’t roll into a charity ball wearing a suit from 2005.” He caught Isabella’s eye and winked. “Please include me in any and all shopping andfitting appointments. I have beendyingto make this bird sing, but he refuses to let me.”
“I can’t—” Afford it, he stopped himself from saying. They knew why, but pressed him on it regardless, claiming friends did things for one another, which could and should include the gifting of designer wardrobe pieces.
Isabella held up a finger. “No worrying. You’re doing this as a favor to me, and in return, I get to doll you up. Deal?”
God, he hated himself for how excited the idea made him. He could argue with Manuel and Andres, but not Izzy. She and Olivia stripped him to the bone with a look, and he couldn’t bring himself to disappoint either of them.
“Fine. It’s a deal.”
Another squeal, this time from Andres, and a second arm-hug from Isabella sealed his fate. “Oh, I’m so excited! We are going to have the best time, I promise.”
chapter 34
. . .
“We’re all set, Mr. Westin. Mr. Coldwell is handling reception, Ms. Wiley is managing catering, and Mx. Russo has security locked down.”
Evan nodded to the man who’d come to a skidding halt at his side with the evening’s final preparation updates. This wasn’t his first rodeo, but it was his first time being solely responsible for its outcome, and he was feeling the pressure.
“Stop worrying. You’ve done everything right, and you look very handsome,” a husky voice complimented. The striking older woman it belonged to joined him at the balcony railing.
“The last time I wore this tux, my life was crumbling around my ears.”
She moved in front of him and straightened his tie and jacket lapels, brushing her delicate hands across his shoulders and down his chest to remove lint that may or may not have existed.
“Think of this as a cleansing, then. Would be a terrible shame to let this stunning outfit rot because of a terrible memory.”
It was more than one memory. More a landslide, but she knew that already. He had her to thank for the peace of mindhe’d finally found. She’d helped him pick up the pieces and put them together in an order that brought an end to his years of self-loathing and doubt. With her, he’d found a sustainable trajectory and an end goal that was worthy of his dedication, instead of feeding into his bitterness.
