Page 142 of Picture Perfect

"Seriously, how are we supposed to keep our hands to ourselves tonight?" Chess adds, a smirk playing on his lips, but his eyes betraying the same reverence I see in Saint's.

Dre's voice wraps around me, warm and sincere, as he speaks. “You shine so bright against the darkness, Snowflake."

"Boys," Gen's voice cuts through the thick atmosphere, her playful scold drawing a chorus of chuckles. "Let's not smudge the art before it's even been showcased."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Saint says, though his hand hovers near mine, as if he's fighting the impulse.

"Trust me, I've got enough hairspray in this to withstand a hurricane," I quip, trying to ease the tension coiling within me—excitement, nerves, all mingled together.

"Alright, lovebirds, let's get moving." Gen claps her hands once, directing traffic like a seasoned conductor. "Mason's waiting for me in the G Wagon, but your chariot awaits." She gestures toward the open front door where the sleek stretch of the limo glints under the porch lights.

"Wait, we're taking a limo?" My eyebrows lift as I look between them, a laugh escaping me. "Seriously?"

"Only the best for our girl," Saint says, offering his arm to escort me out.

"Tonight is about making you feel as special as you are to us, Addy," Chess chimes in, opening the limo door with a flourish.

"Thank you," I say, the words too small to hold the enormity of my gratitude. They smile, their eyes saying what words cannot—that this is just the beginning.

We slide into the limo, and as the vehicle purrs to life, pulling us away from the house and toward the unknown, I lean back against the plush seat. Surrounded by these boys—who have become my protectors, my friends, my something more—I allow myself to savor the feeling of being cherished. It's new, it's overwhelming, and it's mine.

The limo slows, tires crunching on the gravel drive of the venue they've chosen for this event—I know Mason was adamantly against holding it at the Winthrop estate. I can see the lights from here, a constellation of luxury and expectation. My palms are damp, and I press them against the cool silk of my dress, willing the nerves to smooth out like the fabric beneath my fingers.

"Hey," Saint says softly, his hand finding mine and giving it a gentle squeeze. "You're going to be amazing, Princess."

"Remember, it's just a bunch of people with more money than sense," Chess adds, winking at me in the rearview mirror. His casual irreverence is a lifeline in a sea of my own trepidation.

"Besides," Dre murmurs, leaning closer so that his breath tickles my ear, "you've got us. No one's going to mess with you. Not tonight, not ever."

"Thanks, guys." The words come out as a whisper, a testament to the tightrope walk my emotions are performing. I am grateful for them, these boys who have become my unexpected guardians, tethering me to a world I'm still learning to navigate.

The car comes to a stop, and there's a moment—just one—where everything is still. Then the door opens, letting in the sound of distant music and laughter. It's the cue for the rest of my life to start.

"Ready?" Gen asks from outside, her voice bright and confident.

"Ready," I echo back, a mantra to bolster my courage. I step out of the limo, the cool night air caressing my skin where the dress leaves it bare. Ahead, the grand entrance beckons, its doors thrown wide open in welcome—or challenge.

I lift my chin, let the smile play on my lips, and with a glance back at my companions, our connection silent but steadfast, I move forward.

"Here goes nothing," I murmur under my breath.

"Everything," Saint corrects gently, and they fall into step beside me. Together, we cross the threshold into a night that promises change, into my new life.

Chapter sixty-two

Saint

"Come on, Princess, let's make it look good," I whisper, tucking a stray blonde lock behind her ear. My fingers linger against the smooth skin of her neck, and I can't help but marvel at how real this feels. How real she feels.

Her green eyes meet mine, and there's that spark—that electric charge that's been building between us since we first collided in this messed-up universe.

"Saint, you know we have to—" she starts, but I press a finger to her lips.

"Shh, I know. But just for a second, let me pretend." The words tumble out before I can stop them. And damn, if pretending with her isn't the sweetest torture.

"Okay, lovebirds, time to make your grand entrance!" Gen's voice slices through our moment, laced with excitement and just a hint of command. She's the planner, the strategist among us, and right now, she's calling the shots.

"Alone?" I frown, thrown off by the sudden shift in plans.

---