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“Aw, Mom…” Luana pouts, her eyes locked onto the array of sweets.
“Come on, let’s get you settled,” Jordania says, leading her daughter towards the table.
As the chatter resumes and plates are filled, I feel a pang of longing for my sister Morgana and my little niece. It hasn’t been too long since I’ve seen them, but I wish it was under better circumstances. My heart aches for the sound of her laughter and the sight of my niece Hope’s infectious smile.
“Hey, Percival.” Adrik claps me on the shoulder, jolting me from my thoughts. “You look like you’re a million miles away. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” I lie, forcing a grin. “Just thinking about Morgan and Hope. Wish they were here.”
“Me too,” Adrik agrees, his gaze growing distant for a moment before snapping back to the present. “But we’ll see them soon enough, right?”
“Absolutely,” I reply, my determination renewed. “Morgan is in full mother-hen mode. She will be here soon to check on me. Since that night, she seems to treat me like I’m a toddler again.”
“Hey,” Jordania calls from across the table, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “I heard you’ve been quite the hero lately. What’s this I hear about you saving someone’s life? That was the reason you ended up wounded in the hospital?”
“Actually, it was the other way around,” I confess, feeling my face heat up at the attention. “Spencer saved mine.”
“Spencer?” Adrik raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “You know, Morgana would be thrilled to hear you’ve met someone who might keep you on your toes.”
“Maybe,” I admit, taking a sip of my drink. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. For now, let’s just enjoy tonight with the family we’ve got here.”
“Amen to that,” Adrik agrees, clinking his glass with me before we both dive back into the lively conversation surrounding us.
“Are Chase and Rose coming over?”
“Maybe later,” Ariel replies with a roll of her grey eyes. “The pregnancy is kicking her ass, and Chase is in full protective mode. She told me she feels lucky if the man lets her lift something heavier than her toothbrush.”
We laugh again. I can imagine a man like Chase Holland taking care of his wife and their precious cargo every minute of the day.What would happen to me in the same position?Where the fuck that thought came from? I’m the king of funny times, not a keeper. My life is an endless party. I don’t settle. But the question lingers in my mind… what if?
The sizzling sound of seared steaks fills the air as Lancelot flips them expertly on the grill. My mouth waters at the aroma, and I can feel my stomach rumble in anticipation. Ariel sets a platter of grilled vegetables on the table, glistening with olive oil and speckled with herbs.
“Alright, everyone,” Ariel announces, clapping her hands together. “Dinner is ready!”
We all gather around the table, helping ourselves to generous portions of food. The steak is cooked to perfection—tender and juicy, with a hint of smoky flavor from the grill. Beside it, a mountain of garlic mashed potatoes begs to be devoured, their creamy texture melding perfectly with the savory meat.
As we dig into our meal, the conversation flows effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and the occasional playful banter between close friends.
Despite the warmth and joy filling the room, my head is full of memories of Spencer and the way she looked in that black swimsuit. My mind races with ideas for how to make her laugh, each more extravagant than the last. A weekend getaway to a luxurious resort in Hawaii or Dubai dunes? Does she have a valid passport? A hot air balloon ride over Napa Valley? Or maybe something as simple as a home-cooked meal, just the two of us?
The sound of laughter fills the air as everyone around the table shares stories and reminisces about old times. I lean back in my chair, drink in hand, soaking in the joyful atmosphere. It’s not often that we all get together like this, and it feels good to be surrounded by family and friends.
“Alright, team,” I announce, raising my glass in a toast. “Here’s to new beginnings and to the incredible woman who’s saved my life. Cheers!”
“Cheers!” the group echoes, clinking their glasses together as laughter and joy envelop us once more.
Chapter Twelve
Spencer
Sunlightstreamsthroughthedusty windows of my workshop, casting a warm glow on the two nightstands I found at a thrift store. Sawdust seems to dance through the air, landing gently on every surface as I sand down the rough edges. The vision for these drawers is clear in my mind: funky, unique patterns that’ll bring life to any bedroom. It’s been a while since I’ve felt this confident in my skills—maybe it’s the recent turn of events or the simple joy of being lost in my passion.
“Spencer!” Gianna’s wild, curly hair bounces with each step she takes towards me. “Girl, you are not going out with Mr. Percival Hills dressed like that!”
I look down at my sawdust-covered leggings and sweatshirt, then back up at Gianna with an uncertain expression. My hands form the words, “He’s just taking me just on little getaway, not a date.”
“Trust me,” she replies, eyes sparkling with mischief. “With a man like Percival Hills, there’s no such thing as ‘just on a little getaway.’ You need something more than your usual outfits to go out with a man who exudes elegance like him.” She grins brightly, and I smile in response.
“I don’t know,” I sign hesitantly, feeling both excited and nervous about the idea of shopping for clothes. What if I can’t find anything I like? What if I don’t look good in anything?
