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Without waiting for a response, I weaved through the crowd to get to Ciara.
I admired her silhouette before I stepped up to her. She was wearing a sleeveless white dress that hugged her from mid-back to hips, with a skirt that fell to her knees. Her white pumps accentuated the shapeliness of her calves. I wanted to run my hands along the fabric of her dress—and along her silky skin underneath it—but neither seemed appropriate for the time or place. And Mack would have my head if I ruined another party for her.
When I stepped up to Ciara, her profile accentuated by the setting sun seemed pensive as if she was lost in her own thoughts. I slipped an arm around her shoulders, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“Hey, Cinderelly,” I murmured. “Why the long face?”
She flashed a small smile, leaning into my side. “No long face,” she replied. “I’m just thinking.”
“About what?”
“About…everything.” She sighed, looking out over the city through the window. “How we got here. My animation program. These last few weeks. Our wedding.”
“Are you feeling overwhelmed?” I asked, adding quickly, “No one would fault you if you are.”
She tilted her head back and forth, considering. “I’m not overwhelmed,” she said finally. “I’m just…settling things in my mind. It didn’t play out the way I thought it would, being married, but I wouldn’t change anything.”
“Nothing?”
She smiled at me. “Nothing.”
I sighed, feeling the tightness in my chest dissipate. A burden I didn’t realize I was holding—the burden of trapping Ciara in a marriage that ultimately made her unhappy—fell from my shoulders. A silence descended on us, but one that felt warm, comforting. I wanted to stay in our bubble forever.
Unfortunately, Mack had other plans.
“As cute as you two are, you know you can’t stay over here forever,” she said. When I turned my head to look at her, she had her hands on her hips.
I pursed my lips. “Didn’t you send me over here in the first place?”
“Yeah, to greet your bride, not tostay,” she insisted.
She grabbed one of Ciara’s hands, then one of mine. “Time to make your rounds,” she chirped. “First stop: Damien and Brandon. Might as well start y’all off slow, since you wanna be off to yourselves.”
“If only she knew,” I muttered to Ciara. She laughed.
When we finally got to our destination, Mack dropped our hands. Damien was the first to notice us; he smiled and dapped me up, then gave Ciara a hug. “How are y’all doing?” he asked.
I thanked Brandon with a head nod as he pushed a drink into my hands, then turned to Damien to answer his question. “Ran into Zeke when I first got here. I got to the bar to order a drink—which I never got to drink—and—”
“What do you mean?” Brandon asked. “You didn’t waste liquor on him, did you?”
“Nah, nothing like that,” I assured. “I had just put my order in when he came out of nowhere. I completely forgot to even pick it up because he started to come for Ciara, saying she’s spending our money indiscriminately.”
Mack rolled her eyes. “He should be the last one to talk about anyone spending any money,” she sniped. “Everybody knows his broke ass has to borrow money from his daddy every time he needs to pay his light bill. Fuck outta here.”
“I said as much,” I replied. Then, I laughed. “Well, maybe not all that about his broke ass, but still.”
“You should’ve said it,” Mack answered. “I would’ve.”
“Of that, I have no doubt.”
Ciara was quiet, and I felt her withdrawal from the conversation as if it were a physical thing. “Hey,” I said quietly. “Are you okay?”
She flinched. “Did I mess up by wanting to do the engagement party here?” she asked. “Was it too much?”
“If it was too much, I’m sure Mack would’ve told you,” I said, reaching down and squeezing her hand. “We can afford it.”
“Don’t pay any mind to fuckboy-ass Zeke,” Mack said from her other side. “He wouldn’t know couth if it was printed on hundred-dollar bills.”
