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Will offered me his elbow on the stairs down from the loft, and I took it with a sense of pride. The way he led me through the hall and onto Main Street, his stride long and strong like he was more confident with me on his arm, put a warm glow behind my heart space. A public appearance like this didn’t make our relationship official. If this last month between us never happened, he was still my best friend, and I still would have walked into this event by his side.
Every storefront on Main Street—aside from The Salty Stop—was covered in balloon garlands and flowers and paper lanterns in riotous shades of pink to mark the Valentine’s Day in Valentine Bay Festival. Next to The Stop, the old warehouse had been covered in hundreds of twinkling lights and temporary wrap branded with the tournament details. The Salty Stop waslisted as a sponsor, and I squeezed Will’s bicep, hoping he’d understand my excitement and awe.
He spared me a small, sideways smile. “Impressed?”
“Speechless,” I replied, gazing up at the building.
“That’d be a first,” he muttered.
I elbowed him in the ribs, and he grunted. “Save that mouth for the bedroom, mister.”
Will smiled, and his dimple popped. “Yes, ma’am.”
At the entrance to the warehouse, red velvet ropes corralled the incoming guests as tall, buff doormen checked people off via glowing tablets. Will moved past the queuing guests—from what I could see, none of them Valentine Bay locals—and went straight for the head of the line. I was born for the VIP treatment, but when people began to whisper and take his photo, I tried to pull my hand from the crook of his arm. I didn’t want to complicate things for him tonight.
“Don’t,” he murmured, grasping my hand and holding it there. “Don’t let go.”
I gripped him tighter as the warm glow in my chest burst into fire. The bouncers at the door recognised Will on sight, nodding as they pulled back the rope to let us through.
“I had no idea this event was going to be so elaborate,” I said as we moved into a makeshift coat room. Music and conversation filtered through the dark, heavy curtain between us and the warehouse space. “Guest lists and tuxedos and velvet ropes. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It was meant to be much simpler to start,” Will replied, stopping to straighten his jacket. “But Birdie was open to hearing a few of my ideas, and things kind of escalated from there.”
Now, it was my turn to be nervous. I glanced at the curtain, wishing I could see through it. What had he done? More importantly…
“But Will…Why?”
Will lifted his eyes to mine, and we exchanged an entire conversation in just one look. He knew what I meant.Whyhad he made things harder for himself than they had to be?Whydid he want to prove himself tonight of all nights, with so many people watching and so much at stake?Whydid he feel the need to prove himself at all?
And I knew his answer. He did it to prove to himself that he could.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and blinked back tears before they spilled over and ruined my mascara. It was almost impossible to tease apart the maelstrom of emotions swirling through me. I was sad for the little boy Will used to be and heartbroken that he had to go to such extremes to feel that he was worth something as a man. And so ridiculously proud that he’d pulled it off.
I took his hand and held it tight. “Are you ready to make your fashionably late entrance?”
“Yeah.” He took in a fortifying breath. “I am.”
Will pulled back the curtain, and I gasped.
The official theme was “Monte Carlo Casino,” and everyone in the room was dressed either in a black tux or glamorous gown, but it didn’t end there. The space was cavernous. Dark curtains covering every wall and strings of tiny white lights hung at half the height of the ceiling neutralised its impersonal, industrial feel. Four large, round gaming tables had been cordoned off in the centre of the room, set aside for the poker tournament and allowing plenty of space for foot traffic and spectators to gather around and watch. Elsewhere were a roulette wheel, a craps table, a blackjack table, and a barrel for raffle tickets. Each was complete with a black-vested dealer. Servers circulated with trays of champagne, and a buffet table loaded with food was setup at the rear of the room. The air was thick with jazz music, conversation, and the smell of whiskey and canapes.
“Will!” I turned my wonder on him. “This is unbelievable. Why didn’t you tell me about any of this? It looks like so much work. I could have helped. I could have—”
“I wanted it to be a surprise.” He shrugged like it was nothing, and I pretended not to notice the pale red flush creeping up his neck. “And it was something I needed to do on my own.”
I pressed my arm against his, the only show of affection I could risk with all the cameras pointed his way. The lump in my throat grew thicker. “I know I already told you this, but I have to say it again. I’m so freaking proud of you.”
“Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you tell me that.”
His smile was small and self-reflective, but then his head jerked up, and he grinned at someone across the room. I followed his line of sight to our friends congregating around the blackjack table. They looked ripped from a photo shoot, the men model material with their broad shoulders, styled hair, and sexy suits. The girls were a rainbow of style in elegant dresses and sky-high heels, each one a goddess. I was a bucket of love today, and my heart felt too small to hold all the affection I had for my crew.
I gave them all a full-armed wave, which Emily returned with gusto, and I laughed before pulling a funny face, eyes crossed and tongue poking out to the side.
“Jesus,” Will groaned, tugging me forwards. “You can take the girl out of the small town, but you can’t take the small town out of the girl.”
“You love it,” I teased.
Will sighed dramatically, mouth twitching with the urge to smile. “I suppose I do.”
