Trips squeezes my fingers, pulling me from my thoughts as yet another unknown guest steps up to offer us congratulations. I can’t help but notice an unusual number of age-gap relationships in the crowd. Trevor and Olivia aren’t even close to the widest gap, and it makes my stomach upset at the realization.
Women, bought and sold by powerful men. We’re worth more than that.
Sure enough, the master manipulator drags Mattie off to meet some men who are much too old for her, her mother drifting behind to watch over the interaction. Soon. Soon we’ll get her away from old men with lecherous tastes.
Trips and I greet a few more guests before his father returns, Walker with him. He gathers us closer than I want to be to him, his voice a hiss over the murmuring crowd. “I don’t know how you’re messing with the cameras, but this will not go unpunished. As soon as the prescribed dances are complete, you will meet me in my office. Understood?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Trips says.
It might be honest, but his father doesn’t believe him, instead pulling me into a hug where his knuckles dig between my ribs, my breath vanishing with the sudden pain and tears clouding my vision. “You will be there,” he repeats, Walker held back by Trips.
My poor sweet artist has done more than enough violence tonight. And this is just a warning—it’s not worth intervention, not when so much can still go wrong tonight.
“Understood, sir,” I whisper.
He holds me a moment longer, just to verify that his threat has taken hold, before releasing me with a brilliant smile. “Good. If you’d been born a man, things might have been very different between us, Ms. McElroy.”
He turns, greeting the man nearest us with a booming voice, clasping his shoulder like they’re long-lost friends. Ignoring the consequences, Walker takes one of my hands while Trips grasps the other, but none of us say anything.
This was the risk of having Walker join us in this hell—he could burn right along with us.
But the more of our team Trips’ father could keep his eyes on, the less likely he would be to see what’s going on where he’s not looking. It was a calculated risk, even if this is the last place I want Walker. The guys have never been okay with me throwing myself into danger, but they still agreed to my plan. I had no right to fight them on the same thing, only reversed.
The wedding planner motions us over, interrupting my worried thoughts as she clears a circle in the middle of the ballroom.
The quartet strikes up a lilting tune, and it reminds me of our dance last winter. Only this time, when I place one hand on Trips’ shoulder and the other in his waiting palm, it doesn’t feel like an act.
His ice eyes soften as he looks down at me, the hint of a smile that’s been almost irrepressible at the corner of his mouth winking at me. I feel a matching bit of joy fluttering free from the depths of my fear. “We made it,” I whisper as we’re announced incorrectly as Mr. and Mrs. Westerhouse.
“Home stretch, Mrs. McElroy.”
I laugh, shaking my head at him as he twirls me across the floor, fully trusting him with the steps as we whip past so many strangers’ faces.
“I can’t believe you did that, Mr. McElroy.”
His lips twitch wider, an actual smile appearing like the warmth of a crisp autumn sun. “It seemed like the perfect opportunity to get exactly what I’ve always wanted: out of this family. It was just a bonus that it acted as misdirect for my dad and a gift to you, of course.” I roll my eyes, and his gaze grows heavy. “Be careful with those sassy looks, Crash.”
“Why?”
“Because they make me want to chase you down, strip off your clothes, and take you however I want.”
I lift my hand from his shoulder and bop him on the nose, his startled blink making me giggle. “I told you before, I let you win.”
“We both won, Crash.”
He’s not wrong. “Raincheck?”
Instead of answering, he pulls me flush to his chest, his lips pressing against my head until the waltz winds down. As he leads me to my father, he finally speaks. “Today we worry about today. But in the future? I’m cashing in every raincheck I ever gave you. Including that one in the study room”
Warmth coats my cheeks as my dad looks between us, the wedding planner urging all of us to the dance floor where Trips’ stepmother waits.
“Everything okay, mija?” My dad just sways, his arms around my waist, not knowing the steps. Like anormal person.
I don’t know how to answer that, though. “It’s as okay as we were expecting,” I say. Then, on instinct, I lean against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent of bar soap and faintly woodsy store-brand aftershave. “Thanks for coming.”
“This wasn’t what I was expecting, but I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Clara-girl.”
We rock for a while longer before he clears his throat. “Will you be okay? Truly?”
