Page 183 of By A Thread

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That afternoon,Linus dropped off a very nice bottle of whiskey tied with a black bow. My meeting with the online content team was kicked off with fancy teas and muffins. Even Shayla had muttered a “Happy Birthday” before insisting that we were going in the wrong direction with a sidebar on bucket bags.

My mother sent me a huge arrangement of showy white flowers, a ridiculous gold paper party hat—which made me roll my eyes—and a very nice Armani jacket that I didn’t mind at all. She was out of the office all day working with designers and coordinators for the upcoming gala in May. It was one of the biggest nights in New York fashion every year, and as always, my attendance was expected.

I wondered if Ally would like to go and how creatively she’d commit to the theme. Or, more accurately, how creatively she’d make me commit to the theme.

And then I realized how quickly I’d begun making plans that revolved around her. It was less of a battle every night to get her to stay. She had things at my place, space in my closet. I’d insisted that she start doing her laundry at my place so I wouldn’t have to miss out on a few hours with her every weekend.

We had routines now. Early morning and late night walks around the block with Brownie. Naked Sunday brunch. I knew where all the hardware stores within a five-mile radius of her father’s house were because we spent so much of our weekends in them.

It was disconcerting to wake up one day and find myself… well. Here. Making plans for two instead of one. Looking forward to sharing things like beds and weekends and closet space. I’d dated before. But I’d never gotten this deep, this fast. I’d never made space in my home for a woman before. Change was happening, and I didn’t know how I felt about it.

Did I like it, or did it terrify me? Should I start applying the brakes?

After all, we hadn’t talked future. Not really. Ally was just trying to survive the next few months. Things would be different when the house was sold. When her father’s situation was secure. When she had choices and the resources to make them.

Would she choose me when she didn’t have to rely on me for a roof? For good cheeses and nights out and clothing not previously owned by half of the city?

Did I want her, or did I want to be needed?

There it was. That little icy finger of doubt that I’d been waiting for. I’d learned over and over again to be careful. To not give too much of myself. Because it never seemed like it was enough. That’s why I did things anonymously. Like Buddy’s wife’s physical therapy. Buddy didn’t know it was me. Which meant he couldn’t ask me for more.

When would Ally start asking for more?

A text popped up on my phone.

Ally: Getting to know you birthday edition. Gun to your head. If you had to choose between vanilla cake with chocolate icing or a chocolate cake with peanut butter icing, what would you choose?

And there it was again. That stupid smile on my face.

Me: I thought I told you not to use the V word in my presence?

* * *

I letmyself into the foyer, leaving the cold night at my back. I’d stayed late for a generally useless conference call with the west coast. All I wanted was a quiet night with my dog and my lady. Ally had promised me a home-cooked birthday dinner and one present to unwrap.

Brownie trotted up to me.

“Hey, buddy. What are you doing out here?” I leaned down to give him a good scruffing and found he was wearing a sparkly green bowtie. “Let me guess. A birthday bowtie?”

Brownie jumped up and licked my face from chin to hairline.

“Really have to call that trainer.” I sighed, leading the way into the house.

It was dark inside, but something smelled good. Like home-cooked meal good.

“Maleficent?” I called out.

The lights—all of them—came on in a flash.

“Surprise!”

“Jesus H. Christ,” I groaned. Ihatedsurprises.

My kitchen was full of people. Harry and Delaney were there with their girls—who were currently shrieking “happy birthday, Uncle Dominic” at the top of their lungs. Linus, his wife, and their three kids wore matching all-black outfits and were blowing the hell out of those obnoxious noisemaker things. Gola and Ruth were pouring champagne.

My neighbors, Sascha and Elton, waved from the stove where they were dishing out bowls of something. Jace was hugging Brownie and letting the dog eat his face. My mother, who was supposed to be on a plane right now, beamed at me from where she sat at the island, a gin martini in front of her. Her long-time best friend, Simone, was beside her. They were laughing. Ally’s New Jersey neighbors Mrs. Grosu and Mr. Mohammad were lighting candles on a chocolate cake.