Chapter 22
SEBASTIAN
Gia is halfway through the story about the first event she and Val ever worked together. Apparently, a stylist accused half the staff of stealing a diamond necklace before realizing she’d tucked it into her own bra for safekeeping. Val laughs so hard she nearly chokes on her water.
Nico immediately reaches over to pat her back, which only makes her laugh harder.
“I’m fine,” she chokes out, waving him off. “Stop. You’re making it worse.”
“You sound like a dying seal,” Nico says.
Gia points her fork at him. “I thought the stylist was going to have a medical episode, and Val was standing behind the bar biting the inside of her cheek so hard I thought she’d draw blood.”
“I was trying to be professional,” Val says, wiping at the corner of her mouth.
“You were turning purple.”
“I didn’t laugh in her face, did I?”
“That is a very low bar for professionalism,” Matteo says.
Val lifts her glass toward him. “Welcome to event planning.”
I sit back and watch her. She’s still pale, and I can see the strain around her mouth every time the conversation slows, but she’s laughing.
Really laughing. It’s good to see after the last few days.
She deserves more of this. Dinner, friends, stupid stories, and even Nico annoying the hell out of her.
“I still think the keynote speaker at my gala was worse,” I say.
Val turns toward me with instant betrayal on her face. “Don’t you dare.”
Gia gasps. “What keynote speaker?”
“Mr. Brighton,” I answer, giving Val a knowing smirk.
She points her fork at me. “I was starting to like you tonight.”
Nico leans forward, delighted. “What happened with Brighton?”
Val groans and drops her face into one hand. “He had three cocktails before cocktail hour was over and started practicing his speech to a ficus.”
Gia makes a strangled noise. “I’m sorry, a ficus?”
“It was near the podium,” Val says. “I think he thought it was an assistant.”
Matteo sets his wine down. “Was the ficus a good listener?”
“Better than most assistants I’ve met,” Val says. “But not better than mine, obviously.”
Nico laughs, and Val smiles in a way I haven’t seen much lately. It makes her look younger. Less guarded. Like this is how she must have been before Adrian got his hands on her life and fucked everything good up for her.
I keep that thought to myself. I have enough sense not to ruin the first good dinner we’ve had.
The meal stretches longer than I expected.
Gia tells another event story, this one involving a socialite, a broken heel, and a dog that was not supposed to be inside the venue.
Nico tells everyone about Val deciding she wanted to be a business owner at eight and charging the neighborhood kids a dollar to watch her perform in the backyard.
“It was an exclusive performance,” Val says.
“You sang three songs from The Little Mermaid and then demanded applause.”
“I had range.”
“You had a hairbrush microphone.”
Gia looks delighted. “I would’ve paid the dollar.”
“You see?” Val gestures at Gia. “A woman of taste.”
“You refused refunds when it started raining,” Nico adds.
Val shrugs. “That was clearly stated in my terms and conditions.”
I laugh before I can stop myself. She looks at me then, and I get the full force of her smile. It does something inconvenient to my concentration. Matteo catches me watching her and gives me a look over his wineglass.
“Don’t start,” I tell him in Italian.
Val narrows her eyes at us. “Are you talking about me?”
“No,” Matteo answers immediately.
“Yes,” I say at the same time.
She looks between us. “Well, that was smooth.”
“Nico told me honesty was important to you,” I say.
Nico snorts. “Don’t drag me into this.”
“As if you don’t always insert yourself anyway,” Gia says to him.
Nico turns toward her. “What does that mean?”
“You love being in everyone else’s business,” she responds with narrowed eyes.
“Is this because I told you your ex-boyfriend was a talentless asshole?”
“You are proving my point.”
Gia is relaxed tonight too, though I can tell she’s watching Val more than she wants anyone to notice. That makes me like her more. She got dragged into the uglier edges of my world by accident, and she still showed up for her best friend.
Nico sees it too. He’s less obvious than usual when he watches Gia, but only barely. That’s going to become a problem eventually. I’m probably a bad friend for how much I’m looking forward to it blowing up in his face.
By the time dessert is finished, Val looks tired. Not unhappy, just worn out. She hides it well until she thinks no one is watching, but I’m watching. I’ve been watching her all night. She starts to stand with a stack of plates, and I catch her wrist before she can get far.
“Leave them.”
Her eyes cut to mine. “You hosted this dinner for me. The least I can do is the dishes.”
“I have staff for this reason.”
“And I have manners.”
“That’s debatable,” Nico says.
Val points at him with the plate. “You’re on thin ice.”
Gia takes the plate from her hand. “I’ll help.”
“No,” I say. “Seriously. I pay my staff way too much for you to take their jobs away.”
Gia looks at me, completely unimpressed. “I wasn’t asking your permission, Dracula.”
Matteo laughs outright at that.
Val looks far too pleased. “I like when people bully you in your own house.”
I narrow my eyes at her.
Gia insists on helping. Nico insists on helping Gia because he doesn’t know how not to follow her around like a lost puppy.
Matteo carries exactly two glasses to the sink and acts like he deserves a medal for manual labor.
Val does the least amount of work and still somehow manages to direct everyone like she’s running one of her events.
Eventually, I convince everyone to get the hell out of my house.
Gia hugs Val goodbye near the front door and holds on longer than usual.
Val doesn’t make a joke about it. She just hugs her back, face hidden against Gia’s shoulder for a few seconds.
Nico watches them with his hands in his pockets, and for once, he doesn’t try to rush in and fix something.
When Gia pulls away, her eyes are a little glassy, but she points at Val anyway.
“Call me tomorrow. And if you pretend you’re fine, I’m driving back over here.”
“I would never lie to you.”
Gia gives her a look.
“I would only lie a little,” Val corrects.
Nico kisses Val’s forehead before he leaves. He gives me one pointed stare over her head, like I need another reminder that he’s still capable of becoming a problem if I hurt her.
“Goodnight, menace,” he whispers to her before he walks out.
Matteo is the last to leave. He pauses beside me while Val and Gia say one more goodbye.
“I’ve got updates,” he says.
“Tomorrow.”
His brows lift slightly, but he nods. “Tomorrow.”
When the front door finally closes, the house feels too big.
Val stands in the foyer, looking toward the dining room where the candles are still burning low. Her shoulders draw in now that everyone is gone, and something awkward settles back into her face. She looks almost shy.
I can handle her temper. I know what to do with that. I can handle sharp words, stubbornness, and the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m overstepping. This version of Val makes me want to reach for her, and that means I need to be careful.
“That was nice,” she says.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
She glances at me, then away. “I mean it. Thank you. You didn’t have to do all that.”
“I wanted to.”
Her fingers move over the edge of the console table near the stairs. It gives her something to do with her hands, and I can tell she needs that.
“I’m not used to people doing nice things for me without expecting something.”
“I wanted you to be happy tonight,” I tell her honestly. “You deserve to be happy.”
She steps closer.
“Sebastian,” she nearly whispers.
I wait for what comes next, but instead she rises on her tiptoes and kisses me. For half a second, I’m surprised. Then my hand is at her waist and my mouth is on hers, and I’ve run out of reasons to be careful.
She tastes like sparkling water and chocolate.
Her hands slide up my chest, fingers curling into my shirt.
It would be easy to take the opening. Easy to let the kiss go where it wants to go, because I know she wants me.
I can feel it in the way she leans into me, in the soft sound she makes when my hand tightens at her waist.
That’s exactly why I stop. I pull back before I can talk myself out of it.
She blinks up at me, cheeks flushed, eyes confused enough to make me feel like an asshole immediately.
“What?” she asks.
I step back. “We shouldn’t.”
The confusion turns into embarrassment so fast I want to kick myself.
“Oh,” she says, folding her arms over herself.
“This is too confusing,” I tell her. “I want to be with you, but you clearly don’t want to be with me.”
Her eyes shine, and I immediately regret every word.
“I’m trying,” she says, and her voice cracks just enough to make me feel like the worst man alive. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I don’t want you to force yourself into something because I’m here and I’m safe tonight. I don’t want you to regret this in the morning.”
She swipes under one eye, clearly angry at the tear. She glares at me through wet lashes.
I step closer again, slow enough that she has every chance to move away. She doesn’t.
“Listen to me,” I say. “I don’t need the picture-perfect family. I don’t need a white picket fence. I don’t need you to pretend you’re ready for something when you aren’t.”
She looks down at the floor, but at least she’s listening.
“And if you decide this isn’t what you want, I’m not going to lose my mind and punish you for it. I’m not going to follow you or make you pay for saying no. I’m not Adrian.”
Her face crumples for half a second before she gets it under control. That tells me I finally said the right thing, or at least something close to it.
“You deserve someone who makes you feel safe,” I continue. “If that isn’t me, I’ll find a way to be okay. But I can’t keep being the guy you regret being with.”
She lets out a shaky breath that almost turns into a laugh. “I want to try.”
I stare at her, not sure I heard her right. “What?”
“I want to try,” she says again, clearer this time. “With you. I don’t know what that looks like. I don’t know how good I’m going to be at it, and I’m probably going to freak out a lot, but I want to try.”
I take a second before I answer, because if I respond too fast, I’m going to say something too honest or too possessive, and we’ve made it this far without me fucking it up completely.
“All right,” I say.
Her brows pull together. “That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Something dramatic. You’re very intense, so I expected more.”
I move closer. “I’m trying not to scare you off.”
I slide a hand to her waist, giving her time to step back. She doesn’t. Her hands come to my chest again, more certain this time.
“I’m still scared,” she admits.
“I know.”
“But not of you. Not right now.”
I lower my head and kiss her. This time, I don’t stop.
I guide her upstairs slowly, partly because she’s pregnant and exhausted, partly because I need her to know she can change her mind at any point.
She doesn’t. She keeps her hand in mine the whole way, and when we reach my room, she’s the one who pulls me down to kiss her again.