Page 148 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

Then I focus on the one pressed to me. “You feeling okay, little hen?”

She smiles. “You can’t help but worry, can you?”

“Nope.” Especially with her puking in the mornings and sleeping more than normal.

“I’m good, honey,” she says.

I open my mouth.

“I promise to tell you if that changes.”

I pull her gently against my chest, the soft fabric of her cream-colored dress like silk against my palms, it’s beading glittering in the lights. “You’ve never been more beautiful.”

Her cheeks go pink. “You’re rather dashing yourself.”

The music changes, and I smile at her, offer her my arm. “Shall we?”

She loops hers through mine and the crowd parts as we move onto the dance floor.

Brooks and Briar smile, Jean-Michel holds Tiff as she wipes away a tear, Rome has Mia on his shoulders while Chrissy fixes the toddler’s dress, Rory holds their baby girl while King hovers protectively, Jace feeds Marie cookies, smoothing his hand over her rounded belly.

Other friends smile and drink champagne, laugh and kiss and party.

A year ago, I would’ve treated this happiness like borrowed time.

Now?

Now as I hold River in my arms and sway to the music, I realize this is just us.

The life we’ve built. Our home.

“Happy?” River asks as the song winds down and I take her hand, drawing her out onto the balcony where I finally began to let go of the past.

“Never doubt it, little hen.”

A flash of movement catches my attention and for a second, my heart skips a beat.

But there are no longer monsters hiding in the shadows.

It’s Angela and Pascal.

She’s wearing a jet-black dress, her blonde hair pulled into a severe knot.

Fully recovered but still as prickly as ever.

She’s not a part of us—she won’t allow herself to be. But she’s been around, always clinging to the shadows, never fully living.

It’s like looking into my past, a reminder to never allow myself to go there again.

And an ache that she may never get here.

Pascal steps closer, his body tense. Angela lifts her chin and holds her ground.

Even from here I can tell they’re arguing…and that she’s losing.

Pascal says one more thing then holds out his hand—a set of keys glinting in the moonlight.

Angela stares at them for one long moment before taking them.