Page 117 of Lace 'em Up

“No,” King mutters. “We’re going.”

His arm goes around my middle and then I’m on my feet and being propelled toward the door.

“Aurora. Grace.”

“King,” I whisper, a weird mix of guilt and relief warring through me when he doesn’t stop moving me forward and out onto the sidewalk.

“Just keep those feet moving, princess,” he orders gruffly, directing us down the sidewalk and behind the building to where his car is parked in the bakery’s lot.

“I—”

“Aurora Grace!”

“Christ,” he mutters, picking up the pace and getting us both to the car before they catch up.

Unfortunately, it’s at the car where they do catch up.

Stacy and Cathy and—oh great, the whole club’s here—Dessie stand there glowering at me like they did when I was a little kid who was suddenly all alone in the world and they were teenagers and a grown woman who could have shown kindness.

Like Chrissy had.

Like Rome and Cam.

Like King.

But they hadn’t.

And that truth settles somewhere deep inside me, healing that old wound that never closed, that oozed old hurts and insecurities.

Why couldn’t they have been kind?

Why couldn’t they have looked after me?

But…maybe it wasn’t about me after all.

Because Jean-Michel and Chrissy, Rome and Cam, and…

King.

None of them had a problem?—

“What are you doing with her?” Stacy grits out, her expression frankly scary.

“Do I need a reason to spend time with my fiancée?” King snaps.

Which doesn’t help the scary.

Not at freaking all.

Stacy looks like she’s going to bust out a long sword and skewer King. Or me, when her gaze drifts back to my hand and then up to my eyes. Hers threaten retribution. “I thought the wedding was off.”

A wedding they hadn’t been invited to.

A wedding they’d showed up at because Phillip and his mother had decided they needed to be invited.

To keep up appearances.

God, why had I wasted so much time with that?—

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