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Grinning now, she sashayed down the sidewalk toward the north end of town. The restaurant the other women had chosen for girls’ night out was more expensive than she could afford, but she deserved a treat.
It was her birthday, even if no one but Gabe knew it. She hadn’t told her friends. She didn’t like being the focus. She preferred to watch from the shadows. A faceless Veronica who could put her carefully edited thoughts onto paper and then duck out of sight.
Except, of course, when it came to being touched by Gabe MacKenzie. She definitely wanted the focus on her then.
She’d learned in New York City to always walk the streets with your spine straight and your eyes fixed on where you were going. You didn’t look at the men who called out to you. You didn’t make eye contact.
Jackson was different, of course. She’d never experienced any catcalling here, though she wouldn’t put it past a drunk cowboy on a Friday night. Here she could smile at the people she passed. She could look around. And she did. Her eyes traced the boardwalks, looking for dark waves of hair and a trimmed beard.
The sun was setting. Gabe would be done climbing by now. He could be out with his friends, making the most of his day off. And Veronica was showing off her legs again. She’d never thought too much about them before, but now she wanted Gabe to see her in her short red dress. She wanted his gaze to drop. Wanted him thinking about fucking her.
So instead of keeping her eyes on her destination, she let her gaze search the streets as though she were a woman on the prowl. She felt taller tonight, and it wasn’t just the heels.
As soon as she opened the door of the restaurant, she spotted her friends. They stood and waved at her from a table right in front of the window. Veronica noticed that even Isabelle was dressed up. Not normal for her when she was in the middle of a commission, but tonight she wore tight black jeans and heels and a turquoise top that shimmered when she moved. Lauren looked sleek and beautiful in a black sheath.
And there was a champagne stand next to the table.
“Happy birthday!” Lauren called when Veronica drew near.
“Oh, my God!” She automatically returned Lauren’s hug, though she was completely confused. “How did you know?”
“I snooped in the library records months ago.” Lauren pulled back after one more squeeze. “That’s a little illegal, though. Don’t tell anyone or I’ll end up with a record like this one.” She gently elbowed Isabelle.
“Shut up,” Isabelle responded, then gave Veronica a big hug. “Twenty-seven years old. You’re almost a grown-up, V.”
“Almost,” she agreed, thinking of the old Neil Diamond song about becoming a woman soon.
Her eyes caught on the champagne again and then settled on a little gift box wrapped in white and blue. “You guys. I can’t believe you did this. Thank you.” She was surprised that her throat felt thick with emotion.
“Thanks for spending your birthday with us,” Lauren said.
She nodded. If she’d wanted to spend her birthday with her father, she would’ve needed to remind him that it was her birthday. After her mom had died, he’d remembered only every other year or so.
Lauren gestured toward a seat. “Have some champagne and open your present. It’s from both of us.”
Isabelle groaned. “It’s from Lauren. I was a complete shit. I meant to shop, but then I didn’t leave my house all week.”
“You’re painting,” Veronica said, waving a hand in dismissal. “I’m honored you’re even here. And you showered!”
“Right?” she cried, gesturing up and down her body, eyebrows raised in apparent shock at her own appearance.
Veronica picked up the small box and ran her fingers through the sapphire-blue ribbons. “It’s so pretty.” She tugged at a ribbon and then carefully unwrapped the shiny white paper. The box beneath was black. She eased the top off and gasped. I
nside was a silver pendant stamped with a drawing of a fountain pen. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”
“Turn it over,” Lauren urged.
She flipped the silver disk over and felt tears blur her eyes. Dear Veronica was etched on to the back in elegant script. “I love it,” she whispered.
“Come on. I’ll help you put it on.”
Lauren eased the necklace over her head and fastened it while Veronica lifted the pendant to look at it again. “You’re the best, Lauren. Thank you.”
“Just drink your champagne,” Lauren insisted. Veronica did as she was told and was tipsy before the server came to take their order. The champagne was good, and the waiter was cute, and Veronica’s cheeks hurt from laughing before they even got their entrées. It was one of her best birthdays ever. And these amazing women were her friends. It felt a little like the life she’d always dreamed she’d have in New York.
She put down her fork, took a deep breath and set her shoulders. “Guys, I need a little help.”
Isabelle gestured toward her plate. “I’ll finish that steak for you, if that’s what you’re after.”
