“Several months after he moved, he texted the wrong thing to the wrong person,” she continued, and wished her cell weren’t in Peter’s pocket, because she wanted to capture their reaction to the next bit. “A request to the obstetrics office of Dr. Millicent Ivey that they reschedule his pregnant wife’s ultrasound appointment.”
Peter’s hand convulsed in hers, and his dark brows snapped together so hard, he appeared to have a generously sized caterpillar on his face. Carah mouthed the wordmotherfucker, and Ramón jerked back in his chair with enough force that it scraped against the floor.
Otherwise, it was all dead silence and dropped jaws.
Fy fan. She really should have reclaimed her phone. This waspriceless.
And to her shock, the story didn’t cause her pain anymore. Not a single twinge. In fact, the whole thing was kind of... hilarious?
With a huff of amusement, she flicked her wrist. “Ivey, Ivarsson. It could happen to anyone.”
“It happened toyou.” Peter didn’t look amused. At all.
In fact, he was staring at her so hard, she half wondered if he was attempting telepathy. Or perhaps telekinesis, in hopes hecould whisk her from the ballroom to somewhere more private using only the seething energy generated by his scowl.
If so, good luck to him. Her ass was planted in this seat for the duration.
“It hurt.” She spoke directly to him, because she knew at least part of what that glower hid. Concern. For her. “But my family helped me pick up the pieces. And a few months later, I sent audition materials to Hollywood on a whim, figuring I could use a new setting. A new adventure.”
Slowly, the severe lines of his face softened as he saw her smile and heard what she hadn’t said:Then I met you. Then you became my closest friend. Then you became my everything.
Those snapping dark eyes turned tender, and he gave a little nod. An answering smile tipped the edges of his mouth, and it was small and sweet.
He didn’t need to remove her from the crowded ballroom with the power of his mind.
The music swelling in the distance was only for them, because everyone else had already disappeared. Just like that.
“Without him,sötnos, there’s no us. That’s his only importance to me now.” She lifted their entwined fingers. Kissed his knuckles. “So let’s hit that chocolate fountain at the dessert display, order more drinks at no additional cost, and find out whether I can convince the DJ to play ‘Dancing Queen.’”
His eyes narrowed again as he helped her to her feet. “Oh, they’ll play it.”
“Or you’ll... what? Murder them?” Even as a proud Swede, that seemed a bit extreme.
“I had intended a bribe, but . . .” He lifted a shoulder. “Whatever’s necessary. I’ve plumbed the depths of evil before. Peeredinto the eyes of killers. Learned their malevolent secrets, which I can now employ for my own ends.”
She stopped. “You’re talking about the Irish cows again, aren’t you?”
“I’m talking aboutallcows,” he corrected. “Now gather your molten milk chocolate and enjoy the fruits of iniquity.”
In the end, the DJ did indeed play “Dancing Queen.” It required only a twenty-dollar bill, rather than bovine-inspired homicide. With the ridiculous man she adored at her side, she danced surrounded by friends, and she contained no more secrets. No more hidden history. Nothing else to hold within and curl around, out of shame or wounded pride or lingering grief.
She felt light enough to drift, airborne, in the wake of Peter’s laughter.
And if this—along with her family—was her reward for all her pain, all the times she’d been abandoned, all the moments she’d been set aside and watched the people she loved choose anything and everything other than her, it was enough.
More than enough.
Like Peter, it was everything.
Gods of the GatesCast Chat: Tuesday Evening
Carah:I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU OUTBID ME FOR THAT SILENT AUCTION NAPA TRIP, ASSHOLE
Carah:talking to Peter, by the way
Carah:the rest of you are assholes too, but he’s the SPECIFIC asshole in this situation
Carah:I was going to film my next food-reaction video there