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Chiara presses her lips together, clearly trying not to laugh. “That could happen to anyone.”

“Chiara.”

She finally looks at me. “What?”

“What did they do?”

“Nothing!”

I point at her. “You're a terrible liar.”

“And you're wasting valuable drinking time. Put on your shoes.”

I groan and turn back towards the mirror, giving myself one last look. Jeans, boots and a fitted black top Chiara insisted I wear because apparently turning twenty-seven means I'm no longer allowed to dress like I'm going grocery shopping.

“I can still back out.”

“No.”

“It's my birthday.”

“Exactly.”

“Which means I get to decide.”

“Not anymore. You made the mistake of telling Lily Hawthorne when your birthday is.”

I sigh.

Jude warned me.

Good luck telling Mama what to do.

Asshole.

Chiara comes up behind me and rests her chin on my shoulder. “You okay?”

Our eyes meet in the mirror, and I know she isn't talking about Lily. I look away, suddenly unsure how to tell her about the dream I've been thinking about all day.

“I dreamed about him.”

Her expression softens. “Dami?”

I nod. “He woke me up with kisses. Just like he used to.” I swallow, remembering how real it felt. “He wished me a happy birthday.”

Chiara gently turns me around to face her. “Nora…”

“He knew.”

“Knew what?”

“About tonight.”

Her eyebrows pull together.

“He said he was happy I was having a party.”

Chiara goes still, and I let out a broken little laugh.