"Good." He reaches over, takes my hand, and brushes his lips across my knuckles. "Because I've been looking forward to showing you off."
The drive to James's hotel should be stressful. I should be a bundle of nerves thinking about facing all those people who either ignored me or made my life hell, but with Elias beside me, it's ... nice. He tells me about how James nearly had a meltdown that morning when the florist delivered the wrong centerpieces for the reunion.
"So there's James, right? Standing in the lobby in this suit, screaming about how navy and cerulean are 'completely different color palettes, you uncultured swine.'" We both laugh, relieving tension and unwrapping my nerves. "James is not big on using expletives, but he did finish his tirade with one."
I laugh. "Oh, poor James."
"Poor James, nothing. He's a tyrant when he's in event-planning mode." Elias glances over at me and raises one brow. "He almost didn't let me leave because, and I quote, 'Just because you're hopelessly in love doesn't mean you get special treatment.'"
My heart stutters. The way he says it—so casually, like it's a given, like he didn't just drop the L word—makes me wonder if there's truth behind the joke. It makes me stupidly hopeful, too.
Love.
"Eyes on the road, King."
His grin widens. "Can't help it. You're distracting, ma'am."
The rest of the drive passes in comfortable conversation, punctuated by moments of charged silence when he catches me looking at him, or I catch him looking at me. It's like we're both waiting to see where the night will lead us.
Too soon, we pull up to the Khan Hotel. It's the nicest hotel in the city if I say so myself, and seeing it lit up at night is breathtaking.
"James doesn't do anything halfway, does he?"
"Never has." Elias's hand finds the small of my back. "You good?"
I give him a smile, even as anxiety begins to bubble up again. There are people milling about in the lobby, familiar faces that make my stomach clench.
Elias must feel me tense because he leans down, his lips brushing my ear. "Remember, I've got you. Anyone gives you trouble, they answer to me."
His proximity, the warmth of his breath on my skin, the subtle scent of his cologne—it all combines to make my head spin, and I lean into him almost unconsciously.
"There they are!" James strides toward us, resplendent in a navy suit (definitely not cerulean … I think), and pulls me into a quick hug. "Girl, you look stunning."
"Thanks, James. The hotel is beautiful."
James beams. "Wait until you see the ballroom. Come on."
He leads us through the lobby toward a set of double doors where a small crowd has gathered. As we approach, people begin to notice us, or more accurately, they notice Elias. Phones come out. Whispers start.
I grip Elias's arm tighter.
He covers my hand with his. "Ignore them. They're not important."
James pushes the doors open, and we step into the ballroom.
For a moment, everything freezes. The music continues, but conversations stops. Heads turn. Eyes widen.
The ballroom is beautiful—all twinkling lights and elegant decorations in navy and gold—but I barely register it. All I can focus on is the weight of dozens of stares. Faces turned. Jaws dropped.
Elias's arm slides around my waist, pulling me firmly against his side. He leans down, lips brushing my temple. "You know what I'm thinking right now?"
I shake my head slightly.
"I'm thinking every guy in this room is kicking himself for not noticing you in high school, and every woman is wishing she was in your shoes. Right now."
The absurdity of that statement, along with the warmth in his eyes, surprises a laugh out of me. Just like that, the tension breaks. I'm still nervous, but the panic recedes.
James gestures for us to follow him to a table near the dance floor. "I saved you guys the best spot."
