Page 179 of One Wild Wish

Gwen sat straighter. “Good thing I’m the only one of us available. Considering how long it’s been, I might need the all-you-can-eat variety.”

Rachel and I traded hopeful glances. Gwen had been on a break from men for over a year, focusing instead on work and CrossFit and her other life-threatening hobbies. She also hadn’t been out much since her mother had passed away last month. The end had come suddenly, so swiftly Gwen hadn’t spoken with her since their last fight. Gwen claimed she’d come to terms with the loss, accepting that her “mother” had gained said title by blood alone, not through any sort of proper relationship. She’d said losing her had felt like reading about a celebrity death in a gossip rag—a moment of sadness, followed by life moving on.

I patted her thigh. “If you go the buffet route, make sure the men all wear their bibs before entering your restaurant .”

Cameron cracked up. “I need a book of Ainsley-isms.”

I could totally rock that book. “We’ll call it Musings on the Love Glove .” Not that I had time to write such brilliance. My next two months were fully booked.

Aside from my growing client list, my weekly Habitat shift took priority, and I needed to add a before-and-after page to my website, showing off recent makeovers. One in particular would be front and center: Sloane. She’d progressed from a size celery to a size Italian eggplant and looked stunning in her less-conservative wardrobe. She was my ideal client, ready to shed her past with a new look and a new lease on life. She’d also made sure Thomas hadn’t slandered my reputation.

I hadn’t let her pay for my services.

The referee blew his whistle, and we all enjoyed the view as the throng of male magnificence ran and grunted and dripped sweat. We cheered. We leered. We had a blast.

“Have you ladies made birthday plans?” Cameron bent forward, elbows planted on his knees. He was a handsome devil, his mix of ink and fifties flair deliciously sexy.

Rachel sat between us. She leaned back so we could all talk. “We’re keeping it simple. Going to a bar. Just close friends.”

Namely him and Emmett, Owen and Jimmy, Rachel, Gwen, and me. Our little gang. Rachel and Cameron chatted about grabbing dinner beforehand while I watched the tail end of the match, but my mind was stuck on our birthday and all it meant.

I couldn’t believe it had been a year. Almost a year. We’d be turning twenty-eight tomorrow, April 12th . Two years from thirty.

I’d never been this excited for our yearly celebration. Ringing in the occasion with Owen made it special. I planned to kiss him silly when the clock chimed twelve. I would also thank my lucky stars I’d made last year’s resolution to become a better person, and had worked off my derrière to realize it.

Like spring cleaning, uncluttering one area of my life only made me want to streamline the next section, and the next. My work no longer made me feel like a bottom-feeder. I’d released my guilt over Anton. Owen and I had returned to each other, better, stronger. Ridiculously in love. Even my parents were doing better. Granted, my father’s job at the auto plant wasn’t my doing, but it gave him purpose each day, put pride into his voice. He and Mom no longer needed my help covering their mortgage.

Rachel had found her happy, too. She’d fulfilled her resolution and now had Jimmy and viticulture school.

Our happiness had my focus drifting to my right, to Gwen who was barely watching the soccer match. Her gaze was glazed, like she wasn’t actually seeing it. A cheer rose up around us, shouts and claps blowing into the warm spring air. Gwen didn’t flinch.

She was the strongest of us, could run a marathon, probably karate chop a cement block. She had the brass balls to jump out of airplanes. But losing her mother had been tough, and she seemed lonely these days, still enjoying her job, but…pensive.

I squeezed her thigh. “What was your birthday wish?” She’d never once said.

She didn’t face me, just stared at a faraway point in front of her. “To know who my father was.”

I pressed my hand to my throat, understanding sinking in. She’d asked her mother while she’d been sick and had gotten stonewalled. With her gone, she’d never know. She wouldn’t find the peace that came with the knowledge she’d sought her entire life.

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Her attention settled on her lap. “I’m still going through her house, hoping to find a hidden shoebox or something with a clue, but…” She shrugged. Gwen wore a ribbed tank top that showed off her toned arms and kick-ass physique, but inside she was soft, likely sinking at the prospect of never learning this one truth.

“I can help. Come by this afternoon maybe.”

She didn’t acknowledge my offer. “I want you to know how happy I am for you and Rachel. I know you stuck with your resolutions. It’s impacted your lives, and you both deserve the best.”

My DKNY-loving heart cracked. Gwen was no less deserving. More so for the year she’d endured…and the year wasn’t quite over. “We still have until tomorrow night to fulfill your wish, not that the timeline really matters. But we’ll scour your mother’s place anyway. Tear it apart, if need be.”

She shrugged me off. “You’re sweet, but I’ll pass. It was a silly wish to begin with.”

Her eyes narrowed, focusing on a group of players preparing to take the field. They all jogged out, except for one man stretching on the sidelines. Gwen’s attention didn’t move from him. Owen and Jimmy had finished shaking hands with their opposing team and joined the guy. I had zero clue who’d won—aside from us who got to watch all the hotness—but I was more curious about the man Gwen was eyeing, especially when Jimmy and Owen clapped him on the back.

Gwen’s jaw nearly dislocated. “Holy shit.”

I squinted, checking the guy for familiarity. He was a looker with tanned skin and disheveled dark hair, short on the sides and longer up top. His toned body gave Owen a run for his money, but nothing about him rang any bells. “Do you know him?”

All she said was “Holy shit” again.