She stared at it.
She picked up her phone, set it back down, and pressed her thumb into the counter.
April looked at herself. At the dress that fit her like armor. At the makeup she'd applied like war paint. The woman in the bathroom had asked how to choose yourself. It was time to find out.
She straightened her spine, fixed her lipstick with precision, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
She grabbed her phone, dropped it back in her clutch, and walked out of the bathroom with her head high.
???
When April slid back into the VIP booth, five faces turned toward her. Jax had disappeared off to who knows where. Mateo set out insulated bags with the kind of care usually reserved for transporting organs. He popped open the first container and the smell that escaped was illegal in at least three states.
Bread and butter and heat that made her close her eyes. Outside food wasn't technically allowed, but apparently rules were suggestions when you had enough money.
April sat down, shifting against the leather, Mateo’s food warm in her hands. Liam’s attention shifted to her immediately,his expression settled into that private focus he got when he was already three steps ahead.
"You okay?" he asked.
April leaned into him slightly. Just enough to feel grounded. "Yeah. I'm good."
"You look like you figured something out." He tilted his head, studying her.
April blinked. That was uncomfortably accurate, and very Liam.
"I helped someone," she said. “It helped me."
Liam waited. Patient. Like he had all the time in the world for her to finish the thought.
April took a breath. "I chose to come back here. I could've stayed in that bathroom. Could've called Laura, gone home, let this whole day just... collapse." She looked around the booth—at six men who'd somehow ended up here with her in the span of a single chaotic Tuesday. "But I chose to be here."
His smile was genuine. "Good choice."
April reached for the food without looking up. It tasted like what happiness would taste like if happiness had gone to culinary school in Italy and held a grudge against mediocrity.
Drinks arrived in glasses so delicate she was afraid to breathe near them. Killian sat close enough that she could feel the heat of him through her dress. His hand found her knee under the table.
Caleb stretched out, looking extremely pleased with himself.
"Better than the gala?" he asked.
"The gala had a man dressed like a confused art exhibit trying to convince me we were still dating," April said. "So yes. Significantly better."
Caleb's grin widened.
Jax appeared. Like a jump cut. One frame empty, the next: Jax.
He set something on the table.
Name tags.
Not the flimsy paper kind you got at conferences where you'd write your name in Sharpie and spend the rest of the day worried it was smudging. These were fancy, metallic and magnetic. All engraved:
Killian Blackwood
Arthur Stone
Liam Sterling
