Page 128 of Fumbled Into Love

“Get back here,” Deon yells as I hide in the closet, unzipping my gown and stepping in before he rounds the corner and stops in his tracks. “Holy hell.”

Deon’s eyes ravish my body as I slowly zip the blood-red gown. The neckline dips low, nearly to my navel, and the fabric is covered in intricate beadwork, flowers, and swirls created with the same blood-red color.

I snag my comfortable heels and a small clutch from my suitcase and slide past Deon, who stands like a statue.

Deon stands mute, watching with hooded lids as I bend down to slide on my heels and maybe, just maybe, I arch my back slightly.

“Nathalie,” Deon growls and I hear his movement before his hands slide down my sides, gripping my waist tightly and pulling me against his chest.

I sigh into the contact.

“I’m nervous,” I admit, the jitters eating at my nerves until they’re paper thin. I might need to be tipsy for this or attach myself to Deon and refuse to go anywhere without him.

“I’m excited,” he admits, swaying us slightly. My head jerks upward to look him in the eye. He’s the one who’s supposed to hate events, not me. It’s my job to plan them. They’re not at this scale and often with children, not famous athletes.

My brows crinkle and Deon’s shoulders shake with laughter.

“It’s going to be fun. Pinky promise,” he says quietly, and though I try to prevent it, my heart sinks.

He doesn’t understand what this all means. Tonight is our last night together.

He places a soft kiss on a crown on my head and drags me to the door. I bat away the warmth that blooms in my chest.

“Time to go and mingle with the masses.”

The frown I expected flickers across his face and it’s a comfort knowing that he’s putting on a brave face for me because heknows I’m nervous.

He hates having to go to this.

The sigh he releases as he pets Gordie goodbye makes it clear he would rather stay home, and as his hand wraps around mine and we slip into the car, I pocket every memory I can to help me dampen the heartbreak.

Chatter fills the large ballroom and my brain fails to distinguish all the sounds and conversation as Deon holds onto my hand and weaves through the space to search for our table.

A familiar screech is the first thing I recognize as Sawyer barrels between Deon and I, hands roaming along my dress and in my hair.

“Oh, so she can touch your hair, but I can’t?” Deon grumbles.

Sawyer and I spin.

“Yes,” we answer in unison before I analyze the emerald gown that flares at the waist, a perfect compliment to her fair skin and honey-blonde hair.

“You look amazing.” A small blush creeps onto Sawyer’s cheeks, and her hand slides against her hips, smoothing out her dress.

“I told you green was the right color.” Maren’s voice splits through the air as she and Jack appear at the table. Her navy dress shimmers as she moves, lines of iridescent sequins lining the floor-length gown.

“Gorgeous, right?” Jack says with a wink and Maren’s face flushes a fire engine red. Sawyer pokes her cheek and Maren swats her hand away.

“Let's get a drink and look at the silent auction items,” Maren says, dragging Sawyer and me away from the table. Deon’s eyes widen in panic and I chuckle as I give him a little wave.

“I had this idea,” Maren says while we wait for our drinks, “That we should have a sleepover.”

“Huh?”

I spin away from Deon. “A sleepover?”

“I-I miss you guys,” she admits softly, “We don’t see each other as much as I’d like… never mind. It’s silly.”

I dislike how timid she feels about admitting that she wants more time with Sawyer and me. After tonight, I’ll have a lot of time on my hands which I’ll mostly spend trying to get over Deon.

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