Chapter 20
DRED
“Where are the Babes taking you tonight?”
Connor stands in the open doorway of my “dressing room.” It’s between my private bathroom and the walk-in closet.
The three-way, full-length mirror to the right of my vanity gives me an incredible view of my fiancé.
He’s wearing a black T-shirt that hugs his biceps and shows off the stunning artwork that ends halfway down his forearms. He’s also petting Dewey, and it’s so sweet my teeth ache.
Obviously this makes it a challenge to focus on getting ready.
I manage to pass my mascara wand over my lashes without poking myself in the eye. “Dinner and girl time is what I’ve been told to prepare for.”
He lets Dewey climb onto his shoulder. “They didn’t give you any specifics?”
“Nope.” Lexi took the reins and she’s pregnant, so I can safely assume there will be no club. “I’ve been told Lexi and the girls will pick me up at six.”
Connor rubs the edge of his jaw. “You’re coming home tonight, though.”
My stomach flips at the worry in his tone, and how much I like that he calls this place my home. It’s starting to feel like one, which is as dangerous as it is alluring. I slide my mascara wand back into the tube and meet his gaze in the mirror. “Yes, I’m coming home tonight, Connor.”
“Okay.” The single word drips with relief.
I was at work when he arrived home from New York this morning, and the moment I walked through the door I had to rush to get ready for tonight.
We haven’t had time to talk—not about the flowers that showed up at my work this morning or the lunch that was delivered for the entire staff.
Or how his bachelor party went. He appeared in my bedroom a few minutes ago and has spent the time since watching me put on makeup, while absently petting Dewey.
I push my chair back and stand, smoothing my hands over my hips. Connor’s gaze tracks the movement, his eyes darkening. I don’t know how much of last night’s conversation he remembers after we switched from texting to a call. He was drunk, so probably not much.
My phone pings. “Lexi’s here.” Looks like any questions will have to wait. I adjust my bracelets, then grab my bag, a cardigan in case I get cold, and my shoes. “Walk me out?”
“Of course.” He puts Dewey back in his luxury hedgehog condo.
Connor is silent as we walk down the hall, though he glances at me every few seconds, like he wants to say something, ask something, admit something. But he doesn’t.
The elevator ride to the first-floor foyer is electric with tension, but I don’t break, and neither does he. After we step out, I pause to put my heels on, using Connor’s shoulder for balance. And an excuse to touch him.
Connor opens the front door. A stretch limo has pulled up in front of the stairs.
Flip’s head pops out of the sunroof. “It’s bestie party time, bride-to-be!”
“I didn’t know Flip was coming.” Connor looks both relieved and apprehensive.
“Bestie privileges mean he gets to partake in the estrogen fest.” I wave and note that much like Connor, Flip looks a little rough.
The door opens, and Callie comes bouncing toward us. The rest of my friends’ smiling faces appear at the windows as Connor holds his arms open and catches her. Lifting her off the ground, he gives her a big squeeze. “How’s my favorite goalie?”
“I get to go for dinner!”
“That’s great! Are we still meeting at the rink after to shoot the puck?” Connor asks as he sets her down.
“Yup! Roman bought me a new stick!”
“I can’t wait to see it.”
Callie takes my hand, pulling me toward the limo. She clambers back inside and pats the spot beside her.
“Please don’t feed Dred too many shots,” Connor says, leaning down to look inside.
I pat his chest. “I know my limit.”
“Doesn’t mean everyone else will.” His eyes fall to my lips.
I curve my hand around the side of his neck and feel his pulse hammering there. “Don’t worry, Connor. I’ll be a good little menace.”
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
“I won’t do anything to make your life more difficult than it already is,” I assure him.
“I appreciate that, but it’s not what I’m worried about.”
My heart stutters. I push up on my toes, kiss the corner of his mouth, and climb inside the limo. The entire Babe Brigade greets me with shrieks and hugs and laughter.
We leave Connor standing at the bottom of the steps. One hand is tucked in his pocket, the fingers of the other rubbing the place my lips were.
Lexi gives me a knowing look.
“How are you feeling?” I ask Flip.
“Probably just as bad as Tristan,” Rix pipes up.
“Dallas was in rough shape when he got home,” Hemi agrees.
“Ash wasn’t too bad,” Shilpa says.
“What happened last night?” Callie asks.
“The team took Connor out after the game,” I explain.
“Oh.” She nods knowingly. “He stayed up too late.”
“Exactly,” Lexi says.
“I get grumpy when I do that.”
“Me, too.”
The rest of the girls and Flip chime in with their hearty agreement.
Fee and Tally are already at the restaurant when we arrive, as are Connor’s sisters. My friends greet them with enthusiastic hugs.
“We invited a couple extra guests to join us for dinner,” Lexi says. “They should be here soon.”
“Who else is coming?” I can’t see Lexi having extended the invitation to my work colleagues, especially not Dorothea.
I find out a second after I ask the question when a pair of arms wrap around me from behind. “Dred!”
“Everly?”
I spin around, my smile widening as I take her in. She’s wearing a slightly too big dress, and Cordelia, the woman who runs the group home, is standing behind her. “Cordelia!”
“I’m just dropping Everly off for dinner.”
“What? No! You have to join us!” I turn to Lexi. “There’s room, isn’t there?”
“Of course.”
“It’s settled, you’ll stay for dinner, unless you’re needed elsewhere,” I amend.
“We have to pick Victor up from his piano lesson in two hours. He says hi, by the way,” Everly explains.
“Excellent. You can bring him takeout.” I introduce Everly and Cordelia to everyone and we get settled at the table, with Everly ending up beside Fee and Tally, since they’re the closest in age. She fits right in, and it makes my heart so happy that Lexi managed to invite her.
Isabelle is quick to warm up and Portia eventually relaxes, too, laughing and smiling as we talk about the wedding preparations and my first experience with steak tartare.
“Why would someone want to eat raw steak?” Everly asks.
“That is a great question,” Flip commiserates.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to look at it the same way again,” Portia says.
“I used to feed it to Duchess, our family dog,” Isabelle admits. “But we had to get rid of her because Dad said he was allergic.”
“That’s sad. I’ve always wanted a dog. Once Victor and I went to a foster home with a dog. He was always chewing through his leashes,” Everly says. “What did you do with the raw steak after you gave your dog away?”
“I had to be vegetarian,” Isabelle explains.
“Until you went to university,” Portia says, connecting all the dots.
“What happened when you went to university?” Everly asks.
“I lived on campus, away from home, so I didn’t have to eat raw steak. I could eat whatever I wanted.” Isabelle smiles impishly.
“You could have cake for breakfast?” Everly’s eyes are wide.
“I could and sometimes I did,” Isabelle confides.
“I want to go to university,” Everly declares.
Everyone laughs and Cordelia tells her she needs to work hard and get good grades.
Isabelle grabs her sister’s arm. “Please, do not tell Mother any of this.”
“Of course not.” Portia makes the lips-zipped gesture and tosses the imaginary key aside.
Whenever I spend time with them, it’s like they discover a new piece of their family puzzle right along with me. It seems everyone has been hiding stuff from each other, and Connor isn’t the only one who’s struggled.
Dinner is full of laughter, and Portia and Isabelle tell us stories about Connor growing up.
“Remember when Mother made him take piano lessons?” Isabelle says.
Portia rolls her eyes. “He hated them so much.”
“So much, but she wouldn’t let him play hockey unless he spent two hours on the piano first,” Isabelle adds.
“Why make him play piano before he was allowed to play hockey?” Flip asks, clearly confused.
“They didn’t want him to play,” I explain.
“Why not?” Flip’s eyes are wide. “He’s a natural. He’s one of the best defensive players in the league.”
“It’s physical, it’s violent, you can lose teeth, break bones, and it doesn’t require a university education,” Isabelle explains uncomfortably.
“But almost all of us played for our university team,” Flip replies.
I jump in. “They wanted him to work for Grace Hotels.”
Understanding dawns. “Right. Gotcha.” Flip sits back, expression pensive.
“So he had to learn how to play piano?” I ask, turning back to the sisters.
“At first he just banged away for two hours, but he gave himself a headache, as well as everyone else,” Portia replies.
Isabelle grins. “And then he moved on to learning the most annoying songs and practicing them until all our ears bled.”
I prop my chin on my fist, always interested to hear more about young Connor. “Did he get better?”
“Not at first.” Portia sips her cocktail.
“But he wanted the time for hockey.” Isabelle runs her finger around the rim of her glass, expression far away. “Every two hours on the piano meant an hour of hockey, and he was desperate for time on the ice.”
“I’m sure.” I nod. “Imagine being forced to do your least favorite thing to be able to do your most favorite.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything as much as Connor loves hockey,” Isabelle says thoughtfully.
“Do you remember his recital piece?” Portia asks.
I’m wildly fascinated by them—perfect hair, perfect skin, perfect everything. Poised, proper, and almost extensions of each other. It’s clear that they rely heavily on each other for everything. And why wouldn’t they, when it’s them against everyone else?
“Unforgettable.” Isabelle nods.
“What did he play?” Callie asks.