Page 95 of Licks

A birthday I’d never forget.

11:11 p.m., 49 Minutes…

Gwen

It was later than intended by the time August and I met our friends. Kissing happened before we left my apartment. Then on the street. In the taxi. Outside the taxi. As much kissing as we could fit in during his last hours.

Talking with Sarah had helped clear my mind slightly. We’d kept the conversation short, both of us too emotional to say much. We’d made plans to talk again tomorrow. I was nervous for that exchange, one that would likely be more jarring. Painful wounds would be opened for us both. Whatever the outcome, it had to happen. She needed to know what my childhood had been like. I needed to know her life. We had to figure out who we were to each other.

I’d never been more thankful to see Rachel and Ainsley.

Their chosen bar was busy for a Sunday night. Industry night, they called it, for chefs and servers who usually worked while others partied. Hanger 47’s tall ceilings gave the room an airiness, the corrugated walls, vintage lighting, and airplane memorabilia super cool.

Before August and I ordered drinks, the girls spotted us and dragged me away from the group.

Ainsley gave me the once-over. “You’re late and you haven’t returned my texts. What kind of best friend do you think you are?”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “What she means to say is, are you okay? Is everything good with you and August?”

“Right. Yeah. That.” Ainsley nodded. Her curvy figure was pronounced in a stunning cream dress with sheer sleeves and a dangerously high hemline. Rachel’s risqué cutaway dress was courtesy of Ainsley, too. Personal shopper extraordinaire. I’d have to book her for an afternoon, use her expertise to source a sexy ensemble for my Germany trip.

My sights drifted past the tattooed clientele who frequented this place—most ink depicting a vegetable or cooking utensil on arms or necks—and landed on my guy. August was chatting with Owen and Jimmy. Cameron and Emmett joined them with fresh drinks. August spoke with his friends, but his heated glances cut my way often.

I may not have sipped any wine yet, but a warm path slid down inside my chest. “Everything is amazing with August,” I told the girls.

Rachel sighed. “She’s fallen in love.”

“It’s sickeningly sweet.” Ainsley beamed at me.

If I looked as dopey as them when they swooned over their men, sickeningly sweet was the perfect description. “I booked a flight to meet him in Germany. We’re determined to make this work.” I didn’t mention August’s and my baby talk, our hopes to one day have kids. I felt too fragile. But it sent my mind to my newfound history, how it would feel to give up my yet-to-be conceived child. My insides twisted at the thought.

Rachel touched my wrist lightly. “If things are good, why do you look sad?”

“He’s leaving,” Ainsley said, pointing out the obvious. “Of course she’s sad.”

I was sad August was going, but excited, too. I would torment the man of my dreams through dirty texts. Seeing him again would be the best kind of reunion. “Saying goodbye to him will be painful, but some other big stuff happened.”

Rachel and Ainsley stared at me, wide-eyed, as I laid out my crazy day and the diary details, how August had kept the information from me, that act leading to the biggest case us two Badass PI partners had ever cracked: my father and the woman who’d raised me were dead, but my aunt was my mother…and she was alive.

“You never found your father, but you found your mother instead,” Ainsley said, awed. “I’m barely standing after that revelation. How are you on your feet?”

Rachel wiped a tear from her freckled cheek. “Because she’s the strongest woman we know.”

I glanced down at my body. August had unleashed a sexy growl when he’d seen me in my leather pants, three-inch heels, and red strapless top. He’d said he loved how strong I was.

Standing here, still on my feet after my insane day, wasn’t because I could do burpees and box jumps. Growing up in a cold home had toughened me. I’d learned to breathe through stress, repeat stupid movie titles if needed. Play not-very-good guitar. Now I had a man who loved me and the best friends a woman could want. I’d earned this inner strength.

All I said was, “Of course I’m here. I wouldn’t miss our birthdays.”

The three of us hugged, our twenty-seventh year almost over. Year twenty-eight would knock it out of the park.

“With August gone, we’ll have to rally.” Ainsley rubbed my arm. “I’ll bake you my famous spinach brownies.”

Rachel and I traded horrified looks. “It’s not necessary,” I said.

“Of course it is.”

“It’s really not.”