Page 87 of Enemies, Lovers & A Valentine's Baby

I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs, trailing behind Sue as Greg leads us both back into the hall. My eyes skim around the room, connecting with several familiar faces—my sister and her husband, friends, colleagues, Katie. I flash them the widest smiles I can muster, throwing in a cheerful wave here and there, but it all feels like a performance. My heart’s not in it.

Instinctively, I find myself searching for a particular pair of stormy gray eyes. I shouldn’t care where he is, but a small, stubborn part of me refuses to let it go. It’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t need to see him. Yet here I am, scanning the crowd, searching for him like a moth for a flame. Greg said he is here, but I haven’t caught a glimpse of him yet.

I tell myself it’s fine, that I don’t need to speak to him. I wouldn’t even know what to say if I did, yet something in me still yearns for that fleeting connection, even from a distance.

After all, I’ve spent the last eight years doing just that—watching him from afar, quietly longing for something I knew I could never have.

Get it together, Lila.

I straighten my shoulders, forcing my hands to stop their nervous fidgeting.

If he doesn’t want to see me, fine. That’s his choice. Tonight is a culmination of the endless hours I poured into this event. Sure, he helped, but I’m the one who brought it all to life. I should be proud of what I’ve accomplished instead of obsessing over whether he’s hiding in some dark corner of the room.

I glance around again, this time taking it all in with new eyes. Everything came together better than I could have ever imagined, and band was the icing on the cake. I smile thinking about all the excited chatter once everyone found out who the musical guests were. The dancefloor has been on fire from the beginning.

The bar is most certainly a hit, buzzing with life as people laugh, toast, and sip on my signature cocktail.Too bad I can’t have any of it, I think wryly. The irony of creating the night’s star drink only to be unable to enjoy it isn’t lost on me.

My throat is already dry from all the small talk, and water isn’t cutting it anymore.

“Excuse me, what non-alcoholic options do you have?” I ask the bartender, trying not to sound as desperate as I feel. I vaguely remember arranging for sparkling water as the backup, assuming everyone would be indulging in cocktails. The thought of not having any other options for the rest of the night makes me groan inwardly.

The bartender glances up, his face lighting with a smile. “We’ve got some fruit juice and a few soda options. What can I get you?”

I blink. “Wait…really?” I pause, confusion and disbelief tangling in my voice. “How—never mind. I’m not even going to question it. Can I get a ginger ale, please?” I say a little too excitedly. The thought of the sweet, fizzy drink quenching my thirst makes my mouth water.

“You got it,” he says with a wink.

A moment later, he slides a chilled can across the counter, and I all but snatch it up. The cold metal feels like salvation in my hands. “Thank you,” I say, beaming as I crack it open. The first sip is heaven—a crisp burst of spicy ginger that soothes my parched throat and settles my stomach, if only for a little while.

With the soda in hand, I turn back to the glittering room.

“There’s something I have to show you, baby. Will you take a little drive with me?” Greg says to Sue not too far away from me. I grin, resisting the urge to clap my hands together in excitement.

It’s finally time! God, I’m so happy for Sue.

Sue crosses her arms, arching a brow at him. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to just leave the party—”

“We’ll be back soon, and I promise, it’ll be worth it,” Greg interrupts, his tone pleading. Sue stays silent for a moment, looking at me as contemplates it.

“Fine,” she finally relents. “But not before I take a spin around the dancefloor with my best friend,” she adds, a mischievous smirk spreading across her face.

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” I wave my hands in front of me, shaking my head adamantly. “You should definitely go with Greg. Like right now. You know I’m a terrible dancer, Sue. Please don’t put me through this again,” I beg her.

Sue laughs, stepping closer. “We do this every year, and every year, you act like you have a choice.” She grabs my hand, giving me no room to argue. “Come on, they’re playing our song.”

“It’s not our song,” I grumble, even as she starts pulling me toward the dance floor. “It’s the song you force me to dance to every year!”

“Exactly. One would think you’d be used to it by now,” she chuckles, swaying softly to the music. I chuckle, mimicking her moves because I have none of my own.

“There you go! That’s my girl,” she cheers, twirling me around while we continue to dance. Soon enough, we’re nothing but a giggly mess on the dancefloor, doing cringe-worthy moves and giggling each time either one of us misses a step. The whole thing is ridiculous, but it’s tradition, and for a moment, I forget everything else. It’s just us, two best friends making fools of ourselves on the dancefloor.

“Okay,” Sue says, catching her breath. “Remember that killer move we did last year? The one where you went down, I went up, and then we—”

She cuts off mid-sentence, her words evaporating as a low, velvety voice clears its throat beside us. The sound cuts through the music, the laughter, everything.

My heart instantly skips a beat, and I stop moving altogether.

Slowly, I lift my gaze, my pulse quickening as my eyes lock with Cole’s.

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