He chuckles to himself, seemingly entertained by an inside joke we’re not privy to. Before I can ask him what the hell he is talking about, Melanie kisses him hard on the mouth. My mouth gapes over her audacity; Marcus freezes in surprise, and Emily and Jenni gasp. I don’t know where to look, so my eyes bounce between Emily and Jenni, the empty hallway, and occasionally to Melanie and Marcus.
After what feels like minutes, Melanie pulls away from their embrace. After fixing her dress into place, she wipes her index finger over her lipstick-smeared mouth before snagging our masks off the entranceway table and hotfooting it into the corridor. “Now that’s been taken care of, let’s go party!”
She saunters down the hall like kissing a world-famous bassist is an everyday occurrence for her. I wave goodbye to Jenni and Emily before taking off after her. Marcus follows me, but he maintains an amicable, yet curious distance.
Melanie remains quiet as we ride the elevator, but her eyes continually stray to Marcus, who’s standing in the corner, soundlessly summarizing. When the elevator dashboard signals we’re about to arrive at the second floor, Melanie hands me my mask. The Serena Scott Annual Gala Fundraiser is being held in the ballroom of our hotel. It’s a masquerade ball, so all attendees are expected to be dressed in formal attire with a mask covering their faces. The ticket sales alone raise millions of dollars for people suffering from ALL.
Slater explained Serena’s foundation was set up to assist people like me with poor medical insurance. It pays for their medical bills and assists in accommodating the family members supporting their child or partner going through such a horrendous illness. I’m so proud of Slater and his family for starting this organization. Anything that helps lessen the burden on those families is the greatest gift you could possibly give them.
My treatment was aggressive and painful, not just physically but emotionally as well. Because I was so young when diagnosed, I didn’t have the option of storing my eggs before treatment began. When you're thirteen, you’re not worried about future children; you just want to live. Seeing how much happiness Maddie and Jasper bring to Emily and Jenni’s lives made me feel torn. I was angry and heartbroken when I crossed number three off my list. Not because I couldn’t have children, but because I knew I’d never finish my list with it on there.
The chances of conceiving naturally after chemotherapy are low in general, so my chances are basically non-existent. When Slater said we’d find a way to add it back to my list, my heart nearly burst. He’s never been too shy to admit that having kids scares the living shit out of him, so the fact he encouraged me to add it back proves how much he loves me.
Melanie and I follow Marcus to the registration table to sign up to become bidders for tonight’s auction. Several exclusive items supplied by Rise Up will be auctioned along with other elaborate items. All the profits raised from the auction will go directly to researching if there are any links between ALL sufferers and certain pesticides. With an increase in ALL patients coming from rural and remote areas, they believe some patients may have been overexposed to certain chemicals, which may have contributed to their diagnosis.
“You need to show your paddle when you bid on any item,” the lady behind the desk explains.
I giggle when she tells me my paddle number is sixty-nine. When she narrows her eyes, I laugh even louder. You’d think since I’m twenty-four I’d be more mature, but I’m not. When you’ve been through what I’ve been through, you never want to grow up. A majority of my teen years were spent in the hospital, so I have a lot of teenage rebellion left to be unleashed. Lucky for me, Slater is one of the biggest kids I know.
“Are you ready?”
Melanie almost faints when Marcus offers her the nook of his arm to guide her down the stairs. When she accepts after a flabbergasted response, I follow them down the wrought iron stairwell. The ballroom is full to the brim with people. All the ladies are dressed in figure-hugging ball gowns. Some are full-length like mine, and others are short and sexy like Melanie’s. The men are wearing tuxedos. Most are black in color, but a handful of the more extravagant gentlemen are decked out in bright yellow, red, and blue tuxes.
As I finalize the last few steps, my eyes shift around the space seeking Slater. We’ve been so inseparable the past six months, the four hours we’ve been apart today is the longest we’ve been separated, and it’s honestly killing me.
When I jump down the last step, my heart leaps into my chest. My smile is so wide, my cheeks hurt from the sudden incline. The quartet assembled on the stage just began performing “Love Story” by Taylor Swift. That can’t be a coincidence—surely!
My intuition is proven right when a sexy voice behind me says, “You’re more beautiful every time I see you.”
I turn around so fast, dizziness clusters in my head, and a handful of tears drop down my face. I take my time drinking Slater in, starting at his black polished dress shoes before my eyes float over his perfectly tailored black tuxedo pants and fitted jacket worn over a white dress shirt. I smile when I notice his wonky bowtie. It’s sitting just to the left, matching the natural flow of his lips when he smirks at my giggle. His silk mask makes his piercing brown eyes darker than normal, and his chin is void of a single bit of stubble.
He’s gorgeous, yet oh so different than the man I saw only hours ago.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Slater
When Kylie scrubs her hand over my scalp, her expression is a cross between amused and panicked. “Your dreads,” she whispers, like she’s dreaming. “They’re gone.”
I nod, confirming what her eyes can’t believe. My dreads are gone. My head is bare and cold from the crew cut the hairdresser gave me earlier today, but my heart is full of pride—although it’s nothing on the pride I felt when I spotted Kylie gliding down the stairs. Her beautiful face was covered by a mask, and her hair was several inches longer than it was when I left her hours ago, but I’ve memorized every inch of her face and body, so I’d recognize her whether she’s wearing a fancy ball gown or a burlap sack.
We’ve been inseparable the past six months, and today is the longest we’ve been apart. You’d think I’d hate being tied down, but I’ve loved every minute of it. Being tied to Kylie is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m not just talking about those times in the bedroom.
I’d originally planned to meet Kylie back at our hotel room, but decided to surprise her here instead. The song I arranged for the quartet to play is one of the corniest songs I’ve ever heard, but it’soursong. Kylie told me she sang it that morning because she was deliriously happy, and for some reason unbeknownst to me, I made her that way. She believes meeting me saved her, even though I know without a doubt she’s the one doing the saving. Although I hate country music with a passion, and you’ll never catch me listening to it on a regular day, I’ll happily play our song on repeat just to witness the smile that graces Kylie’s face every time she hears it.
I’m drawn from my thoughts when Kylie giggles. When I arch a brow, demanding an explanation for her laughter, her cheeks flush pink. That’s a shock. I’ve never seen her blush before. “You kind of look like Brad Pitt.”
I roll my eyes and gag. Kylie, Emily and Jenni are fucking obsessed with that guy. I don’t get it—seriously! He’s more than double their age.
I stop whining when she adds on, “But at least ten times hotter.”
Smiling, I attempt to tug her close by her tiny waist. My plans are thwarted when her hand shoots up to scrub my scalp again, making me worried she likes my crewcut more than my dreads. This is the third time the past minute she’s rubbed the bristles on my head. I don’t mind. Her nails scratching my scalp feel nice; I just don’t want her to get used to my new ‘do.
“Don’t get used to it. I’m growing my dreads back.”
She smiles so broadly my cock stiffens painfully fast. “Good, because I love your dreads.” Her voice is throaty, as if she too is struggling to ignore the tension bristling between us. “That’s why I’m so shocked you shaved them off. They’re a part of who you are.”
“It did it for Serena’s foundation.”
