She looks up at me, searching my face for something. Whatever she sees must satisfy her, because she nods slowly.
“Okay,” she says. “Then prove it.”
The music ends. Couples around us begin to separate, moving off the dance floor. Ryan is almost here, champagne in hand, ready to reclaim what he thinks is his.
But before I release her, I lean down, my mouth close to her ear so only she can hear.
“Tomorrow or the day after, when the results come in—we’ll be there. All of us. And regardless of what they say, those boys are ours. You’re ours. And we’re going to spend the rest of our lives proving we deserve to keep you.”
I feel her shiver against me, her breath catching slightly.
Then I step back, putting professional distance between us just as Ryan arrives with the champagne.
“Thank you for the dance, Parker,” I say with my most charming smile. “Always a pleasure.”
“Of course, Cal.” Her voice is steady, but her eyes are dark with something that looks like promise. “Always.”
Ryan hands her a champagne flute, his hand immediately returning to the small of her back. But this time, I notice Parker shifts slightly—not pulling away entirely, but creating just enough space that his touch is merely polite instead of possessive.
And she’s still wearing storm-grey and steel-blue and amber.
Still wearing us.
I head back to where Jace and Silas are waiting, my heart lighter than it’s been in days.
“Well?” Jace asks as I reach them.
“She has a friend. Lab tech. Results will be ready soon—tomorrow or the day after. She wants us there when she finds out.”
“All of us?” Silas confirms.
“All of us.”
Something shifts in the air between the three of us. Relief. Hope. Determination.
Below us, I watch as Parker moves through the crowd with Ryan, still playing her role. But she keeps putting space between them, small subtle movements that create distance. And Ryan keeps drifting back toward Aria, his attention divided, his interest waning.
Charles is gesturing animatedly to Sienna, probably complaining about his missing phone. Sienna just smiles and says something that makes him laugh despite himself.
And Parker—beautiful, fierce, patient Parker—glances up at us one more time, her hand touching the amber beads at her throat.
A reminder. A claim. A promise.
I’m yours.
Tomorrow, or the day after, we’ll know the truth about Noah and Liam.
And then we’ll prove we deserve to keep her.
All of her.
Forever.
38
SILAS
The coat closet is a shadowed enclave, its cramped air tinged with expensive fabric and long-forgotten mothballs. Rows of fur and cashmere and designer wool hang like silent sentinels, their plush surfaces brushing against one another in the hush. I’ve tracked Parker all night—Ryan’s hand drifting to her back, her practiced smile stretched too tight, each reluctant laugh a note I’ve cataloged.
