Page 12 of Ticket to the Stars: Part Two

I opened the door and stepped in first, and I let her hand go to hold the door for her, allowing Angel to step inside and move past me.

The world outside was one of early twilight, the sun just starting its descent. The way our suite faced, we got the sunrise, so right now, from our high angle of the city, youcould see how everything had started to darken. All of the lights in the suite were off, but that didn’t mean the place was dark.

No, candles were everywhere. In the kitchen, in the living room, lining the floorboards against the walls. So many freaking candles it was really a fire hazard when you thought about it, but now wasn’t the time for logic. Now was the time for grand and romantic gestures.

I heard Angel suck in a breath as she took it in, slowly walking toward the island in the kitchen, where a covered tray rested near the stools. “What?” she asked, glancing at me before looking all around again. “What is this?”

I said nothing, and when she met my eyes again, I gestured to the hall, where Deacon had appeared. His long hair was drawn back, away from his square face. His jaw was freshly shaven, showing off the hard angles. For once, he did not wear a frown, though he did wear all black, as usual.

“I made you dinner,” Deacon said as he strolled over. He rounded the island and came to stand on Angel’s other side. He plucked the silver lid off the plate before her to reveal his handiwork.

Roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and green beans. I had to admit it smelled delicious.

“I know it’s not much, but… I wanted to apologize for how I am sometimes. It’s not you, it’s me, and I—” Deacon had started to ramble, something very unlike him, but he halted the moment Angel turned her eyes to him.

“It looks amazing. It smells so good, too,” she said, and though I couldn’t see her smile, I’d bet anything she was giving him a full-blown smile. Why else would Deacon be so speechless? That smile of hers could render anybody incognizant. “Thank you.” She leaned closer to him and hugged him.

Deacon appeared surprised, like he wasn’t expecting the hug, because over the top of her head, he met my eyes, almost like he was telling me he didn’t know what to do. I had to shake my head at him, mostly because he was being ridiculous. Everyone knew when someone hugged you, especially if it was the girl you liked and sometimes was a dick toward, you hugged her back.

He finally seemed to get the picture, because after a moment, his arms lifted and wrapped around her shoulders in a slightly awkward hug back. He let her go, and then he wandered to the refrigerator and pulled out a can of Dr. Pepper, Angel’s favorite drink. He got a glass out of the cupboard and poured the contents of the can into it. He then brought that glass to her.

“You know how to treat a lady,” she said, grinning as she took the glass and had her first sip. After setting it down, she picked up her fork and stabbed a piece of pre-cut chicken, but before bringing it to her mouth, she glanced between us. We’d moved to the opposite side of the island. “Did you guys plan this?”

As if on cue, Priest strolled down the hall, cracking his knuckles. He walked toward us, plopping himself in themiddle as he draped his arms over both my and Deacon’s shoulders. “We might’ve had a few meetings,” he said as he gave her a lopsided grin.

“Meetings?” Angel repeated, her eyebrows lifting. She began to eat. “How many meetings did you have? And when? I don’t remember hearing any of these meetings.”

“You, Angel, still keep the same sleeping schedule you did before,” Priest rattled off, acting like a know-it-all. “It’s not hard to wait until you’re in bed, fast asleep, and then get with the guys.” He quieted, and for a while, we simply watched her eat.

That was, until Deacon asked, “How is it?”

Angel replied without hesitation, “It’s amazing. I didn’t know you could cook. You’re always just making things in the microwave or reheating leftovers.”

Deacon coughed at that, while Priest finally took his arm off me—only so he could playfully slap Deacon’s chest. “Don’t let him fool you,” Priest said. “He used to cook all the time, back when Pope was around. He was like our personal chef.”

The scowl Deacon always wore returned when he muttered, “I don’t know about that.”

Priest waved him off. “Ignore him.” He moved toward the island, leaning his tall frame over it as he smirked at Angel. “Take your time, Angel, because when you’re done eating, you’re all mine.”

That got her eyes to widen. “There’s more?”

“Of course,” he said. “We’re pulling out all the stops for you tonight. You’re our angel, after all, even if you don’t want to be ours.” There was a pause before he added, “But if you want to be ours, all you have to do is say so. I’d love to make this thing between us official—”

I interrupted him before he could say anything else, “Let her eat, Priest.” She’d told me earlier what her trepidations were, why she had held back all this time. I’d shot the guys a few texts throughout the day, keeping them in the loop. And the whole wrecking ball thing… I hoped she was starting to understand she could never be that to us.

“You’re right, you’re right,” Priest spoke with a wink toward her. “There will be plenty of time for that later.”

Ugh. Leave it to Priest to be unable to leave it alone.

Angel ate. She practically devoured her plate, and when she was done, she sighed a happy sigh and finished up her Dr. Pepper. “I still can’t believe you can cook, Deacon.”

“I guess there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Deacon said, eyeing her up from across the kitchen.

“I guess so.” Angel looked like she was going to say more, but Priest hurried around the island and dramatically bowed and offered her a hand.

“My angel,” Priest purred, “tis time for your next surprise.” He spoke with a little bit of an accent, the weirdo. I rolled my eyes at him, while Deacon muttered to go ahead. He’d clean up the kitchen and join us after.

Angel was slow in slipping her hand in his, and the moment Priest’s fingers curled around that hand, he practically glowed. I knew the feeling. Holding onto Angel’s hand was like holding onto the thing you’ve always wanted. Life. Eternity. Sunshine itself. It was impossible to hold her hand and not feel your troubles vanish.

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