Page 184 of By A Thread

I counted four guys from my old office lingering near the alcohol, typical for them.

Ally’s best friend, Faith, was playing DJ in the corner with my wireless speakers. And Christian Fucking James was lurking near the cheese tray.

Every single one of them wore a ridiculous gold party hat just like the one my mother had sent me.

And then there was Ally.

Front and center in the black Valentino dress I’d snuck into the closet just two days ago. It hugged her breasts and waist before flaring out into a short, flirty skirt. I’d intended for her to wear it for me with the express purpose of me taking it off her, which would unfortunately have to wait until I could get these people out of my house. Her party hat was askew on top of those thick, loose curls that I loved. But it was her smile that hit me the hardest.

She was bone-deep happy. And it was just for me. It was all for me.

She danced over to me and threw her arms around my neck. “Happy Birthday, Charming,” she whispered in my ear. “Were you surprised?”

Surprised didn’t even begin to describe the feelings I was having. “Appalled,” I told her. “Why the hell is Christian James in my house? I hate that guy.”

“You only think you hate him,” she teased. “I have an ulterior motive there. Don’t you worry your pretty little birthday head about it.”

“Potluck? Really?” I teased, noting the mismatched dishes and trays on the island.

She beamed up at me for remembering our little inside joke. “Potluck food and alcohol. No presents. And the only thing you get to unwrap tonight is me, and I’m not wearing anything under this dress.”

“You’re in huge amounts of trouble,” I warned her.

“You can punish me later,” she promised, pulling back and raising on tiptoe to kiss me on the mouth.

It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. “Don’t think I won’t.”

60

Ally

The music was on, the lights were low, and the kids and Brownie divided their time being glued to the living room TV upstairs watching one of the movies Delaney thoughtfully brought and racing downstairs to sneak snacks.

The adults claimed the kitchen and dining room as our territory. Plates of food were passed, drinks poured, and a dozen conversations were happening at the same time.

The smile on Dom’s face while he chatted with Mrs. Grosu and Harry made every hour of sneaky subterfuge absolutely worth it.

“Miracle of miracles,” Dalessandra said, sidling up to me in the kitchen. “You managed to surprise Dominic,andhe looks like he might actually be enjoying himself.”

I liked seeing Dalessandra slip out of her role of indomitable boss.

“I couldn’t have done it without you and your last-minute, urgent conference call,” I reminded her.

“Introduce me to your miracle worker,” Simone insisted, slipping in next to Dalessandra. She was lovely. Born to a Chinese father and Nigerian mother nearly seventy years ago, Simone either had incredible genes or a very good doctor on stand-by. Her glossy ebony hair hung in a curtain that just brushed her shoulders. A model since sixteen, she managed to make the simple white silk blouse and slim black pants look effortlessly chic.

I was the teensiest bit starstruck.

“Simone, meet Ally. Ally, meet Simone, my oldest, dearest friend.”

“Thank you for coming, Simone.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it. I’ve known Dominic since he was a little boy, and I’m very fond of him,” she said, eyeing me over the rim of the pink fizzy cocktail Faith had mixed up.

“I am, too,” I admitted, locking eyes with the man across the room where he was pouring a whiskey and smirking at something Elton was saying.

“Ladies.” Christian joined our little circle. Simone gave him the same appreciative once-over that all women did.

Dominic’s eyes narrowed across the room, and I sent him a little wink.