“No big deal?” she repeats, shaking her head. “This is amazing. I love it.” She pulls the dress free from the package, letting the skirt fall, and gasps a little. The fabric ripples like a stream of quicksilver, trailing to the floor. “It’s beautiful.”
“I’m glad you like it.” Something inside me warms at the expression on her face. I’m surprised, to be honest; I didn’t think she would react so strongly, or like this gift so much, and seeing that joy on her face…
Shit. I’ve got to get my act together, or this will all fall apart before it even begins. That’s at least the third time I’ve caught myself getting sucked into this, in a way that might screw everything up.
“Anyway,” I say, looking away abruptly. “I’ll leave you alone to get dressed. Everyone’s coming over at seven for dinner, and my personal chef will be here at six to prepare. Is that good with you?”
“Of… of course.”
“Good.” With a nod, I turn and retreat back into the safety of my office, closing the door behind me.
Declan and Sophie are, predictably, the first to arrive. They show up ten minutes early, bringing me out of my sanctuary andinto the open foyer of the penthouse. I shake Declan’s hand, and bow slightly to Sophie, which makes her roll her eyes and laugh.
Olivia appears in the doorway to the guest room, now wearing her new dress and the matching silver heels. I got her stilettos, with heels six inches tall and sharp enough to injure someone; I’ve noticed that she likes to go for height with her footwear.
Makes sense. The shoes give her the extra height she conspicuously lacks. Now, the top of her head almost reaches my shoulder, instead of mid-chest.
She looks stunning in the dress, too. I have the fleeting thought that the dress was a mistake, because I really want it on my bedroom floor.
Declan gives me a puzzled frown, but neither he nor Sophie reacts much to Olivia’s appearance. It’s when Riley, Cole, and Noah arrive together that I get the most surprised looks—a curious one from Riley, who whispers something to her friend, and a hard one from Cole, who must be suspicious.
I don’t blame him. The optics aren’t great, and he has no idea what’s going on at the moment. He must think I’m sleeping with Riley’s best friend, and he knows my history well enough to be concerned.
Shane shows up last, at seven exactly, and all of us head to the dining room. As we take our seats around the table, Olivia moves toward Riley and Sophie, like she’s going to sit between the two of them, but I meet her gaze as I pull out the chair beside me.
She comes over to me, and I whisper, “Sorry. We need to be a united front, remember?”
Olivia nods, taking her seat. “Of course.”
For a while, I let the chatter flow around us at the table. My chef, a guy I hired after a restaurant went under in midtown,serves us the first course, a fresh salad. After a few minutes, I tap my knife against my glass, drawing everyone’s attention.
I clear my throat. “So,” I say, “you’re probably all wondering why we’ve gathered you here today.”
They all stare at me blankly. I glance at Olivia, noticing the color rising in her cheeks. I can practically feel the tension coming off of her. Our friends are probably going to be shocked, and she’s bracing for that reaction.
To take some of the pressure off of her, I opt to take the lead. Better to get it over with quickly, like jumping headfirst into cold water.
“Olivia and I are getting married.”
Chapter 9
Olivia
There’s a moment’s silence,in which it’s quiet enough to hear a pin drop—or to hear the scrape of the chef’s utensils in the kitchen. Our friends’ faces are stunned, their eyes wide.
Then everyone starts speaking at once.
“You’rewhat?” Cole exclaims.
“Wait—is this a joke?” That’s Declan.
Riley turns to me, her brow furrowed in concern. “Why didn’t you say anything to me? Are you crazy?”
Only Shane seems to have nothing to say on the matter. He purses his lips as if stifling a smile, then lifts his wine glass to take a sip of merlot, waiting for the chaos to die down.
“Calm down,” Reed says, talking over the cacophony of voices. “It’s fine. This isn’t some kind of hostage situation. We’re notreallytogether, but there’s something we can help each other out with?—”
I find myself pitching in, almost unconsciously. This is a decision we made together, and I don’t like the idea that everyone in the room is second-guessing us without knowing why we did what we did.
