My face flushes as he draws his eyes up to meet my stare. As much as I want to ask what he cares about now and hear him say it, that answer was enough. A flutter of wings shimmies through my belly at the thought of him making any kind of sacrifice for me. I clear my throat and ask for another half pour.
“Plus, I don’t know if you know this, but if—when—we make it to the Super Bowl, they won’t let me go to the Pro Bowl. They’ll send someone else in my place. Can’t risk getting hurt before the big game.” Decker shrugs as he tops off my glass. “It’s probably stupid I want to go so bad. It’s not like it really means anything—not compared to the Super Bowl, at least.”
“It’s not stupid if you care about it,” I say.
Decker smiles and my heart stirs.
We chat and drain our drinks as the driver flies down the last few blocks of our excursion. Months ago, I never would have thought we’d be here. A pleasant conversation with Decker Trace—one that doesn’t make me roll my eyes the whole time? Never. But now, it’s something I’ll miss.
Decker downs the last of his bubbly before shoving the flute back into its velvet encasement, and within seconds, he’s across the SUV, sitting beside me. His jacket brushes my bare arm, and suddenly I wish we were back in his room—with that jacket in the closet and his shirt missing again. His comforting scent fills my lungs, and I want nothing more than to sneak back in his bathroom and read his cologne label one more time so I’ll know what it is he smells like after he’s gone. After tonight.
“You look stunning, by the way. I meant to say that sooner.” He nudges me with his shoulder, and I turn to face him.
“Had to have a few glasses before you could muster a compliment for your girlfriend?”
“You are pretty intimidating.”
“I am not.”
“You held a grudge against me for like ever because I ate gummy worms that I didn’t know were supposed to be yours.”
“Only because you ruined my post-show tradition.”
He pauses. “Post-show tradition?”
I nod. “It’s something my dad started. That was the first time in ten years I didn’t get a single sour worm after a performance.”
“I didn’t know I was interrupting a tradition.” He grimaces, then his face softens, his green eyes wistful. “I’d be pretty mad too if someone interfered with something my dad started.”
I hate when that sadness creeps in, and I reach out, gently placing a hand on his knee. His eyes meet my fingers first before finding my face. Something in my chest dances as his smile resumes, and I have to look away.
“Regardless of tradition, didn’t Darlene teach you it’s rude to be the one who empties the candy bowl?” I jab playfully, hoping to recover the once buoyant mood. Whipping my head to face him, I wobble and realize I’ve had a couple glasses too many. The first priority at the gala is to find a snack. And some water. If this is our last time together, I can’t risk forgetting it because I drowned myself in champagne again. I’ve never heard Decker speak publicly. I want to remember his speech, this night,him.
He lifts a dismissive shoulder. “That’s subjective.”
“Well, you subjected me to a whole lot of rudeness and not a whole lot of gummy worms.”
“I made up for it later at least.” His hand slides across the seat to clasp mine and my heart nearly stops.
“Fine. I guess I can overlook your bad manners after the whole candy shop stunt.”
He brings my hand to his face, his lips brushing over it in a whisper of a touch as he says, “So we’re closing the book on the gummy worm-fueled hatred?”
I can’t pull my eyes away as he drags kisses across the top of each knuckle. “Slammed shut.” My heart pounds as I open my palm and press it against his cheek. Finally, I pour out something I’ve held in since I met him. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?”
He shakes his head, his eyes locked on mine.
“You are, Decker. You’re handsome and sweet and part of me wishes this whole thing were?—”
The car brakes, jolting my words to a halt. I look out the window. Of course, we’re already at the gala. Before I can finish my sentence, our door is being thrown open. Decker gives me one last lingering look, and then he’s gripping my hand, guiding me down the shortest red carpet known to man. Tonight is not as much about who the guests are as it is about the charitiesand how much attention these guests can bring to them. It feels incredibly intimate for a red carpet event, and that’s fine by me.
We pose side by side, smiling and laughing—genuinely laughing—for the cameras. He kisses the top of my head for one picture, and our audience erupts. The next thing I know, he’s lowering his face to mine, his green eyes searching for approval before I answer him with a chaste kiss on the lips. This does nothing but make my pulse and the decibels in the vicinity climb as photographers shout our names, asking for more angles of the “lovebirds.” My racing heart is enough to keep me moving. I grab his hand and lead him inside the old theater, wanting to keep him all for myself, but knowing I can’t.
The venue is one of my favorite Vista City landmarks. It’s breathtaking. Art deco designs and lush rugs surround us. Hand-painted walls and ceilings guide us further into the impressive space. I smile and wave as we rush through the crowd, Decker still trailing behind, a dreamy grin pasted across his lips as his eyes dart from our surroundings to me. It’s been so long since we discussed it, I almost forgot that the whole reason he’s here with me now is because I burned up part of his retirement investment. The one that was supposed to fund his purpose: giving care and finding homes for the creatures he’s most passionate about. It makes my chest ache to think that not only did I damage a tiny piece of history that night at the music hall, but a piece that Decker wanted for his own. I’d buy him a million places just like Gable’s if it would make him happy. I’d even buy him a place for his shelter if he’d let me.
Before I can stop myself, I’m whirling to face him in a flurry of pink satin and pressing my lips to his again in a quick peck. I turn back around, carting him toward the ballroom where the event will be held, but I only make it three steps before he’s yanking me back and spinning me to face him. Our eyes lock before his head dips and he drops a quick kiss right back on mylips. A crooked smile is pasted across his mouth when he pulls away.
My pulse accelerates as I pivot back toward our destination. “We need to find our table. Don’t want you to miss your speech.”
