Which was silly, since she could afford either item. Hell, she could afford both, and the money would go to a good cause. But somehow, entering her credit card number into a charitable website’s donation page and giving them that very same amount without expecting anything in return didn’t feel as . . . excessive?
This was most likely a Swedish thing, much like her instinctive distaste for gated communities. So be it. In both cases, she could either compromise or find workarounds.
Although she didn’t love those ridiculous, exclusionary oxen-yoke gates, she would accept them if they made Peter happy and simultaneously entertain herself by mocking them—and him—mercilessly. And the charity would gladly accept her money without a single, luxurious string attached. Later tonight, she’d visit their website.
Done. She could live with those choices.
“You going to bid on the Napa trip?” Peter asked after swallowing the last bite of his own crostini.
“If I were going to try to win anything, that would be it. But no.” At the next table, a very large signed and framed photo of a sexily smirking Alex dwarfed the other offerings. She had a feeling she knew who was going to win that item. Then deface it mercilessly. “I’ll just give the organization money and leave the auction items to the people who’ll be happiest to win them.”
He gave a little grunt, preoccupied by filling out the form in front of Alex’s photo.
While he emptied his bank account to troll his friend and costar, she kept wandering down the long line of tables. Only to hear her name shouted from across the enormous ballroom in a very familiar, very welcome, very loud voice.
“Maria! Get the hell over here!” that voice shouted again before Maria managed to respond. “Peter, what the fuck is taking you so long at that table?”
She turned and saw exactly who she’d expected: Carah, herfavorite non-PeterGatescastmate. The other woman was standing by a round table—one of many—at the very front of the ballroom, hand in the air to catch their attention. After checking in with Peter, who waved her off and continued scanning the silent auction items, Maria headed that way.
A very attractive woman in a suit with a skinny tie checked her clipboard before letting Maria enter what was apparently the VIP section. Approximately one millisecond later, Maria was forced to catch an entire grown woman as Carah flung herself at her costar.
“Oh my fucking God, Maria, I have missed you so fucking much,” Carah declared. “It’s beenmonthssince the last goddamn convention.”
“I know,” Maria managed to choke out despite her compressed lungs.Skit. Carah had a grip of steel. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you too. I have some news.”
As soon as Carah let her breathe, Maria would tell her about moving in with Peter. Which would probably prompt another round of obscenity-studded hugging, since no one in the cast knew they were together yet.
“Ooooooh.” Improbably, Carah managed to squeeze even harder. “Tell me, you withholding bitch.”
Maria’s first attempt to peel off her friend failed. But during the second attempt, she heard yet more voices she knew and loved and would recognize anywhere. So she put a bit more vigor into her next de-Carahing efforts, which procured her both a glare from Carah and the ability to turn around and hug Nava and Ramón instead.
Gods above, it was good to see them again. “I didn’t know you were coming!”
“It’s a great cause, and we couldn’t miss the opportunity to check in with you and Peter. Your last night in Ireland, Ramónand I got the sense the two of you—” Nava looked over Maria’s shoulder and grinned. “Ah. There he is. The man in question.”
Peter’s strong arms circled Maria from behind, and he propped his chin on her shoulder. “Good to see you again, Nava. Ramón. Carah. I intend to text all of you next week about coming to our house for dinner.”
Carah’s blue eyes lit with glee. “Ourhouse? Peter Motherfucking Reedton, after all this goddamn time, did you finally get your thumb out of your—”
“Yes, Carah,” Peter interrupted, then kissed Maria’s cheek. “The two of us are together, and my ass is now entirely digit-free. Thank you so much for inquiring.”
Well,thatwas an outright lie, unless he was referencing the state of his ass at this very moment, but she generously chose not to point that out.
The more truthful part of his declaration, as predicted, elicited another round of hugs, more swearing, and several disapproving stares from neighboring tables. Then the lights flickered, a signal that the more formal portion of the evening was about to begin, and everyone let go of one another and circled the table to find an empty seat.
Poor Peter sagged in introverted relief as he thumped down into the chair beside hers. But a wide smile split that dark beard of his, and he intertwined their fingers on the tabletop, where everyone could see.
“Later tonight, youwilltell me every fucking detail,” Carah whispered in Maria’s ear. “And I mean that in every possible way I can.”
After Alex made his heartfelt, impassioned case for supporting his charity, the live auction commenced. And when he urgedthe attendees to spend big and bid it up, they listened. If Maria thought the silent auction items were going for breathtaking amounts, that was nothing compared to what people would evidently pay to attend a series finale party with theGatesshowrunners or what they’d spend for a fuckingcar.
Suffice it to say, he raised—as Carah put it—a shitload of money for his charity.
Afterward, crowds of people were waiting to speak to Alex, which meant Lauren knew no one at the table. So after all her tablemates filled their plates at the dinner buffet, they introduced themselves, confirmed she was uninjured, and made casual conversation. Even Peter, despite his discomfort socializing with strangers.
“Lovely to meet you, Lauren.” He smiled at her, warmth in his dark eyes. “We’ve heard so much about you from Alex.”
“I’m certain you have,” Lauren said dryly. “I hope your data plan is very generous.”