Page 61 of After Hours

“Thank you. I love you.”

“You’re welcome,” Abigail replied warmly. “I love you, too.”

We finished our talk, and I headed downstairs to get in my car.

Mara had shared the event’s address, and I typed it in on google maps. Judging by the location, it was evident that this event was beyond my usual social circle’s reach. Nevertheless, who would turn down an extravagant party? Everything involving the Xanders consistently exceeded my expectations.

With Taylor Swift blasting from my car’s speakers and my confidence soaring, I cruised along the open road, the wind dancing in my hair.

Nestled in a serene, wooded area of the city, Mara’s home, unassuming from the outside, was breathtaking. Its large, welcoming windows seemed like shy eyes inviting any ray of sunlight. The concrete walls looked as though they had organically grown from the earth, as if they had been summoned to protect and provide warmth for those dwelling within.

The mansion, with its concrete structure and towering glass windows, offered stunning views of the mountains and provided an ideal setting to enjoy the changing seasons from the comfort of an armchair.

If house porn was such a thing, Mara’s home should definitely be listed on page one. This house was fucking beautiful.

I parked my car in the nearest space and stepped out. There were men stationed at the entrance, along with a velvet rope – a touch of elegance that felt surreal in real life.

I messaged Abigail to let her know that I had gotten to the party and slipped my phone back into my purse.

“Good evening, madam. May I have your name?” A brawny security guard, dressed in full black with an earpiece, questioned me. I thought these things only happened in movies.

“I’m Azzaria. Azzaria Willis,” I replied, offering a simple smile.

“Very well.” He released the ropes, granting me passage. The behavior of the affluent continued to fascinate me.

The scene inside was truly remarkable. The gathering appeared intimate, with a limited number of guests. I overheard conversations suggesting that the main party was yet to begin, and both Mara and Dillon remained unseen. So, I took a seat at a table, took my phone out, and started playing games while I waited.

Melissa was supposed to be coming, but she’s sick and so didn’t want to risk getting anyone sick, especially Mara.

A waiter, impeccably dressed in black and white, approached me, offering a cocktail. I accepted and savored the martini, complete with olives.

As I looked around the party, I loved the atmosphere and the vibe it gave. It wasn’t short of positivity, love, and laughter. Games among the guests were being playing, gourmet dishes were being served, and the gift table continued to fill.

Every detail was filled with baby-themed decorations—pacifiers, rattles, and baby bottles. Even the cake was shaped like a diaper, and the cupcakes took the shape of tiny pacifiers and the letter “I.” I’m assuming that’s what her son’s name will begin with.

The event’s color scheme was mainly shades of blue, a nod to Mara’s soon-to-arrive baby boy.

Guests passed around adorable baby books, filling them with encouraging messages and advice for the soon-to-be mother.

I loved everything about this baby shower.

While I loved to be observant, my satisfaction was tinged with discomfort and irritation. In the corner of the room, I couldn’t help but notice a woman who was excessively friendly with Dillon. She appeared too young to be his mother and roughly the same age as him.

My eyes were inexorably drawn to their interaction. Her beaming smile, full red lips, and gleaming teeth accentuated her beauty. Dressed in a sunny yellow sundress and white sandals, her fashion sense was impeccable. She possessed a different body type than mine, not as curvy, and had distinct features. Her long, blonde hair contrasted with my brown hair. And then something struck me.

She looks like every other woman he’s ever been photographed with.

Just as adhesives bond objects together, my eyes remained glued to them. I fervently hoped Dillon would sense my gaze and move himself from the situation. She planted a soft kiss on his cheek before departing. My heart sank. It was just a kiss on the cheek, yet the beauty of the woman was disconcerting.

Adjusting his attire, Dillon met my eyes and strode towards me. A part of me thought of walking away, but where’d I go?

“Hello, gorgeous. You look ravishing,” he greeted me, planting a soft kiss on my cheek. I did what I do best, pretend people aren’t important.

“Where’s your sister?” I asked, my tone cool and measured.

“What’s wrong? You didn’t kiss me back,” he said, sounding perceptive.

“Weren’t we supposed to keep things private?”And I’m sure you got plenty of kisses earlier from your ‘friend,’” I retorted.

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