by Nalini Singh
Laughter filled the air as Molly threw a crumpled up napkin at a grinning Charlotte. Once again, Sarah didn’t feel the least bit out of place. Not with Molly, Charlotte, and Kit also in their pajamas and Kit stealing a sip of Sarah’s latte while the actress waited for her second cup of the morning to brew. Then Thea joined them after her shower and began taking photos with her phone, promising solemnly that the images would never go online anywhere.
“This is for us,” the publicist said as she made Molly and Charlotte pose together in their pj’s. Both women were wearing boxers-and-camisole combos, their smiles so huge they outshone the sun. “Though”—she tapped a finger on her lower lip, eyes narrowed—“this will also make excellent blackmail material—except shit, Kit, you look far too good even without makeup and Sarah, you’re glowing.”
“Hey, what about us?” Molly and Charlie said in insulted concern.
A second later and everyone was talking over everyone else, and it was chaotic and fun. When the makeup artist and hairdresser arrived, they all watched Molly get done up—at least until the makeup artist banished them outside for making Molly collapse into giggles.
Sarah’s turn came after Kit. She’d brought her own makeup just in case, but the artist had come fully prepared. “Molly told me the skin tones of everyone who was going to be here this morning. Wish all my clients were as organized.” The small and no-nonsense Hispanic woman began to open a different set of compacts. “We can still use your stuff if you’d feel more comfortable that way, but I have a product I think you’ll love.”
“Let’s go for it,” Sarah said with a grin, the joy around her having infected her own spirit.
The makeup artist did a stellar job.
Then it was time to have her hair straightened as she’d requested, the hairdresser combing the long strands into a sleek updo.
FOUR HOURS—AND A CAREFULLY EATEN LUNCH—LATER, all five of them were ready to head downstairs to dress. After tidying up, the makeup artist and hairdresser left—but not before the makeup artist gave each of them a personalized touchup kit. If Sarah ever ended up invited to a big public event again, she knew exactly who she was going to call to do her face.
She caught Kit’s eye once they were in the dressing room. The actress nodded before shooting Thea and Charlotte a meaningful glance. Thea gave a small thumbs-up behind Molly’s back while Charlotte winked, then turned to her best friend.
“You need to get into your dress.”
Molly shivered. “I love it so much.” The other woman did a little dance and went to where the vintage gown was hanging. A creation of delicate lace with cap sleeves and a V-neck, it would—paired with her sultry eyes and deep red lipstick—turn Molly into the embodiment of old Hollywood glamour.
“Did you get the right underwear?” Kit asked, taking a seat in the beautiful armchair in the corner, the seat cushion a dark blue velvet.
“Yes, I found this really pretty set.” Molly showed them the white lace bra. “The panties match.”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, that’s not going to work.”
Molly’s face fell. “No? But it’s so elegant, and it doesn’t show through the dress.”
“You can keep it for another day.” Thea spoke from her spot leaning in the doorway, her long hair having been fashioned into a romantic knot at her nape. “Today I think you should be demure on the outside and a vixen underneath—give Fox a sexy surprise.”
Molly blushed. “I can go through my lingerie—”
“Or…” Charlotte picked up a small box sitting under the garment rail, hidden from view behind the dresses. “You could wear this.”
“And this.” Thea added her box to the pile, followed by Sarah and Kit, all of them having snuck in the extra boxes in their overnight bags.
“You guys!” Molly’s eyes shimmered wetly.
“Don’t ruin your makeup,” Thea ordered her half sister, but her voice was affectionate, a softness to her features that Sarah had never before seen.
“It’s waterproof,” Molly protested thickly.
Hugging the other woman, Charlotte said, “Open the boxes.”
Molly went from near tears to a hot-pink blush at first sight of the lace lingerie in rich cream: a tiny G-string, a lace bustier with fine boning, delicate silk stockings, a garter belt that would frame her body just right, and last but not least, exquisite lace gloves that set off Molly’s gown and would only add to her lushly sensual look when she took off the dress.
Bright red at this point, Molly pointed a finger at them. “I am not putting this on with you as an audience!” But her lips curved and her eyes sparkled. “But thank you so much. I love it.”
“Everyone out,” Thea ordered. “Only Fox gets to see this masterpiece.”
Shouting out fake boos, the four of them stepped outside and teased Molly through the door while she dressed. When she opened it, she’d put on her lovely gown of creamy lace but needed one of them to button it up in the back. Charlotte took up the task of slotting in the tiny fabric-covered buttons, her eyes luminous and totally unshielded—not simply because she was wearing contacts instead of her spectacles, but because her love for Molly was a visible light within her.
We chose to be sisters, she’d said to Sarah last night.
As Sarah watched, Charlotte hugged her best friend from behind, careful to keep her face turned so her makeup wouldn’t get on the dress. “You look so beautiful, Molly.”
“I’m just… happy. Really happy, all the way to my toes.” Molly looked around as she squeezed Charlotte’s hands. “Having you all here…” Her breath hitched.
“Hey, don’t you get me going.” Thea’s voice rasped with emotion, the hug she shared with Molly a tight squeeze. No one who didn’t know them would’ve guessed at their familial relationship; they were two such physically different women. But Thea and Molly, too, had chosen to be sisters after finding each other as adults.
It wasn’t the last hug of the afternoon. One by one, Kit and Sarah wrapped their arms around the woman who’d brought them all together.
“Okay,” Molly said afterward, the lace of her dress exquisite against her skin and her face aglow. “It’s time for you to put on your dresses.”
CHAPTER 11
SARAH, THEA, CHARLIE, and Kit dressed in a chaos of laughter and conversation.
Sarah’s turquoise-colored dress fit as perfectly as she remembered. Kit, meanwhile, had chosen a dress of deep amber, while Thea was in rich violet. All three of their dresses came to just above the knee. Charlotte, however, was in a flowing, ankle-length dress of bright raspberry, as befit her position as Molly’s maid of honor. The rest of them would walk out ahead of her as part of Molly’s bridal party—it was Molly who’d asked them to choose jewel tones for their dresses.
“We look like a group of flowers¸” Sarah said when she glimpsed the entire group in the large standing mirrors placed against one wall.
Molly clasped her hands together, her smile huge. “It’s exactly how I imagined.”
Thea’s camera clicked, capturing another image for Molly’s wedding album.
“I don’t want a stranger capturing these moments,” Molly had said the previous night when it came out that Thea would be taking the majority of the photographs, backed up by one of David’s brothers who was an excellent amateur photographer. “I want it to be about friends and family and joy.”
Thea had brought along a tripod, making it easy to set up the camera and use the timer to take group shots. Once everyone was dressed and they had arranged things for the next part of their outfits, she set it up to take a series of shots, then joined the rest of them.
The five of them stood side by side in front of the mirrors, Molly in the middle.
“Everyone ready?” Molly asked.
Nodding, they reached as one down to the hatboxes placed beside them, picked up their fascinators, and rose to their full height. Each headpiece was different, and each one suited the woman who’d chosen it. Sarah had never worn a
nything like this in her life, but she loved the pretty, frothy thing.
“That’s so lovely,” she said to Charlotte after spying her jaunty little choice with its curling feather of peacock blue. “Here, let me put in the bobby pin you need at the back.”
“Thanks.” Charlotte stood still as Sarah got the bobby pin in place without messing up Charlotte’s updo. “I love yours. That black netting over your eye—you look like a femme fatale.”
“She’s right,” Kit said, angling her fascinator a little more to the right. Her piece had a dramatic, curved shape that curled over the side of her head, the color a vivid blood orange that somehow went perfectly with the amber of her dress.
As striking was Thea’s of deep pink, but the most beautiful was the bride’s, as was only right. It was as if three-quarters of the front of Molly’s hair was covered by tiny blooms. Anchoring the piece in her hair were feathers of purest cream, while the cream netting that came over her eyes was of a finer weave than Sarah’s and went to her lips, a veil Fox would lift up during the ceremony.
“Something old,” Molly whispered, touching her fingers to her dress. “Something to build a history on.”
Thea placed her hand on one of the boxes that had held the lingerie. “Something new, to take into your new life.”
“Something borrowed.” Charlotte fixed a necklace around Molly’s neck; it came to the top of her breastbone in twin strands of white gold, then became a knotted waterfall that ended just above the V-neck of her dress. “Mom would’ve been so happy you were wearing her wedding necklace on your own wedding day. And I’ll love wearing it on mine, knowing you both wore it before me.”
Wetness shone in both women’s eyes.
“Something blue,” Kit said, passing over a bouquet of riotous color that included several glorious shades of blue.
“And,” Sarah added, “a silver sixpence in your shoe.”
“What?” That question came from four female voices at once.
Sarah laughed. “It’s the complete rhyme. I looked it up once.” When she’d been about to be a bride herself. But today wasn’t about her. It was about the generous woman who’d reached out to her in friendship. “I couldn’t find a sixpence,” she said, “but since it’s meant to represent good luck and prosperity, I got you this little horseshoe charm I thought you could tuck in somewhere.”
“Oh, I love it.” Molly took the tiny charm and, with a sinful smile, tucked it inside the top of her corset, to all their approving laughter.
And then the other woman was ready, a bride who couldn’t wait to meet her groom.
ABE SMOOTHED HIS HANDS DOWN THE FRONT of his charcoal-gray suit jacket.
Fox had chosen the same suit for himself and his groomsmen, all of them wearing white shirts with darker gray ties under their jackets. The only difference with Fox’s suit was the flower thing in his pocket, which matched the bouquet Molly would be carrying. It had some fancy name that Abe couldn’t remember at the moment.
“We’re looking damn good,” he pronounced after turning from the mirror.
The other men, including Gabriel Bishop, agreed with loud “Hell, yeahs.”
The ex-professional rugby player and current hard-nosed CEO had fit seamlessly into their group in the time he and Charlotte had been in the city. Abe liked the other man a heck of a lot, even after Gabriel taught them how to play rugby and showed that, retired from the sports field or not, he could still kick their asses.
Gabe hadn’t expected to be a groomsman, but with Molly’s bridal party including four women, it would’ve left one woman without an escort had Fox only had his bandmates as groomsmen. However, what had started out as an offer made and accepted because of Molly and Charlotte’s lifelong friendship had grown into a real friendship between all five of them.
This afternoon, they were all at David and Thea’s home. Fox had been banished from his place the previous night, Molly adamant he not see her before she walked down the aisle toward him. So, of course the five of them had to party—but they’d done it here rather than going out to a club or bar. Abe knew it was partly because of him; his friends didn’t want to put him in a situation that might push him off the wagon and back into the hellhole of drugs and alcohol.
The fact that Fox was effectively skipping his bachelor party because of Abe would’ve made Abe feel like shit if his friend hadn’t made it a point to talk to him beforehand.
“We’ve all partied before,” the lead singer had said. “And we’ll all party again, but I don’t want to do some public deal the night before my wedding. I want to hang with my friends, play a little music, and stay close to Molly in case she forgets about her ‘no seeing me before the wedding’ rule and calls to arrange a hookup.”
Abe chuckled at the memory as he snapped a photo using his phone. Fox was doing up the final button on his suit jacket while David had just flipped up his shirt collar to slide on his tie—he and Gabriel were the only ones who could knot the things flawlessly, so they’d been press-ganged into helping everyone else.
Noah stood not far from David. He was looking into a mirror while combing his hair, his scowl a thundercloud. “Now you know how much I love you, man,” the guitarist muttered to Fox. “I only ever put on a suit and use a comb when it’s a big premier or gala deal for Kit.”
“I hear the suit works well for you,” Gabriel said from where he was perched on the edge of a table, long legs lazily stretched out and crossed at the ankles.
Noah gave the other man the finger. It made Gabriel’s shoulders shake. Yeah, the other man had fit right in, even to the point of ragging Noah about how designers had begged him—were still begging him—to do campaigns after he wore a tux to a black-tie charity gala he’d attended with Kit.
Bumping fists with Gabriel, Abe said, “What do you think the women got up to last night?” He couldn’t stop thinking about the fact he’d be seeing Sarah again, and soon. Fuck, he couldn’t wait. He’d missed her.
No more lies of omission, remember, Abe?
His jaw tightened. Because the truth was that he’d missed Sarah since the day she walked out. However, that dull ache had become a raw need after the hours he’d spent with her three weeks earlier, the Band-Aid firmly ripped off the wound he’d told himself was healed over, forever scarred.
“You think they got a stripper?”
Gabriel’s growl of a question had them all freezing before Fox grinned and shook his head. “Nah. Molly wanted to do a girly thing. No men invited.”
Five pairs of lungs expanded.
Then David chuckled. “We are so nuts for our women,” he said, clearly at peace with his adoration of Thea.
And why not? Thea adored him right back, as Molly did Fox, Charlotte did Gabriel, and Kit did Noah. The latter two were still figuring out some stuff, but one thing was certain: they were a unit. #NoKat was not only a full-blown media phenomenon that showed no signs of fading, it was very real.
In this room, only Abe didn’t have any claim on or right to the woman he’d be escorting at the wedding. His stomach clenched, but he refused to believe he’d lost her forever. As long as Sarah still wanted him, he had a shot. If he could get her in bed, addict her to him, he’d have the time he needed to prove to her that he was no longer the man who’d hurt her so badly.
There were no drugs in his system, no alcohol. Only healthy food and a boatload of determination. He’d also stopped picking up women. The guys didn’t know, but until the explosive encounter in Sarah’s kitchen, he hadn’t been with a woman for months. Specifically since that night during their last tour when he’d shoved so much alcohol into his body that he’d almost ended up in a coma.
After sobering up—and quietly getting help to stay sober—he’d consciously confronted an ugly truth: that he found no pleasure in the meaningless hookups that had filled his nights since his and Sarah’s divorce. The sex had simply been another way to drown out the things he didn’t want to think about, the things that haunted him: Tessie’s de
ath and Sarah’s absence from his life.
Hell, he was such a world-class bullshitter when it came to the most painful events in his life that he’d even managed to convince himself that he didn’t love Sarah, had never loved her; he’d carried that belief like a talisman against the pain of losing the right to call her his wife… until the moment he laid eyes on her at Zenith.
The second he’d heard her voice, met those dark eyes that had once looked at him with unhidden love, he’d been slapped in the face with harsh reality: that he’d tried to bury what he felt for her, bury who she was to him, because he couldn’t deal with the unforgiving fact that he and he alone was responsible for the destruction of his marriage.
Because Abe had only ever loved one woman: Sarah.
He’d fought it, lied to himself, told his friends he was over her, but his love for Sarah was woven into every part of his fucking heart.
“Hey.” David nudged his shoulder, his eyes incisive. “You good?”
David and Abe had been best friends since they were thirteen. The other man had always had Abe’s back—even when Abe was an asshole. He’d earned the right to ask Abe that question, as had Noah and Fox. “Yeah, I’m good.”
“You sure?” David kept his voice low, their conversation sliding under the other men’s discussion about a controversial call in a recent basketball game.
Abe ran a hand over his shaved-smooth head. “Sarah,” he admitted. “She’ll be there.”
No surprise in David’s expression. “I figured. You’re still hung up on her.”
Abe didn’t bother to deny it.
“Look, Abe, I know all about being hung up on a woman.” A deep grin. “But you and Sarah… Something toxic happened when you were together.”
“No.” Abe sliced out a hand. “I’ve forced myself to be brutally honest this time around—only way my sobriety is going to stick.” His sponsor was a hard-nosed vet who’d understood that just in time to save his own marriage and who’d held on to his sobriety for twenty-five years and counting. “It was me, David.”