“The boom box is the carrot cake layer. All the rest are white,” the chef says.
“It looks fantastic.”
“Wait, sir.” The man pushes on a section of the boom box. The cassette deck portion opens letting miles of real vinyl tape spill out, over the cake and down the table.
I laugh, clap the man on the back.
The party planner did a terrific job, too. The ballroom is a Pretty in Pink set. A huge happy birthday banner dangles from the ceiling. Helium filled balloons fill in around it and bob among the tables.
In one corner of the room, the planner set up a sizable video arcade. In the opposite corner are three old-style photo booths. Guests are already climbing into the machines for snapshots.
The center of the ballroom was left clear for dancing. Small tables are set off to one side near the food. A full bar, under-lit with blue lights, hugs one wall. Hung everywhere are 80s music and movie posters. The DJ is set up on a under-lit blue tiled stage opposite the bar.
The DJ and I finalize the play list, agreeing on a hand signal for him to play a certain song on my cue.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
On our way, says the text from Gabby.
Show time. I can’t believe how fucking nervous I am. Does Cherie even like surprises? I blow out a breath. Too late to think twice now.
I take the DJ’s mic.
“Ladies and gentlemen.”
The guests quiet down, stop playing the games.
“Cherie is minutes away. If you’ll please move to the left of the main door and to the back of the room. We’re going to turn off the lights now. You know what to do when they come back on.”
I hear murmurs, shuffling feet, giggling, voices shushing one another. From my vantage point on the stage, I can see down the hall to the lobby.
It must have been a good dinner, because when I get the first glimpse of my girl, she’s laughing with her friends. The closer they get, the faster my heartbeats.
They breach the door, I slide out of sight behind the darkened bar.
“No one’s here yet,” Cherie says.
“We’re a little early. Can you hit the light switch on the right?” Gabby says.
The lights flick on.
“Surprise!” Startled by the roar of voices, mi ninfa steps back a few feet.
For a moment, Cherie doesn’t realize the surprise is for her. She smiles, looks at my cousin, believing the party is for the bride, until we start singing happy birthday to her, that is.
Now she gets it. Cherie’s beautiful mouth opens to an oval gasp. Her girlfriends move into the room as do her mom, Aunt Rebecca and Grandmother.
Eyes huge in shock, head tilted in her cute way, she scans the crowd, resting on each person with love and gratitude. My peaches has a warm heart for her friends.
When her gaze finally comes to me, I wink and keep on singing. She smiles at me before her eyes move on. As we finishing singing to her, she’s all teary. But she’s smiling. She’s smiling big.
Score a big happy for me.
The couple hundred or so guests descend on Cherie. I signal the DJ to start the music. Then, I just hang back, watching her happiness. The friendships are real. There are no air kisses or polite hugs. The embraces are tight and authentic, the affection sincere. Cherie glows brighter with each interaction.
I don’t even give a shit when Jesse kisses her on the lips followed closely by fucking Reed, and then, Monbeau. The mountain of a man lifts the girl clear off her feet, makes her squeal. Surprisingly, it doesn’t bother me. Maybe it was last night’s love making. Right here at this moment, I don’t doubt for a second that she’s mine.
When it’s just her close girlfriends huddled by her, I move in.
“Happy birthday, Cherie.” I open my arms, give her the choice to move into them — if she’s comfortable doing it in front of everyone.
She is, wrapping her arms around my waist and tucking her head into my chest.
Give me an inch, I’ll take a mile. I hug her tight, cradle her head before rubbing her back.
“This night is for you, sweetness,” I whisper, kiss below her ear. When I pull back, I say louder, “We gotcha, didn’t we?”
“Yes.” She laughs, leaves an arm around my waist. “I had no idea.” She playfully whacks Gabby’s arm. “I can’t believe you pulled this off. Not a peep from any of you,” she says to everyone in ear shot.
“Wasn’t me,” Gabby says, pointing in my direction. “This was all Vic.”
As long as I live, I’ll never forget the look of pleasure and happiness on my girl’s face — and how pleased I am that I put it there.
“Thank you, Victor.” She kisses me right in front of everyone, hugs me tight, again.
I don't know what changed at dinner, but I'll take it.
“You’re welcome,” I murmur.
I don’t hold her for long. Her friends pull her away for giggling and dancing.
While I mingle with people I haven't seen it awhile, I watch her do the same — stop and chat with each person there. I watch her take in the cake, finger the cassette tape, dipping a pinkie into the frosting when she thought no one was looking, the way her eyes light up studying the posters, games and balloons, the way her body moves when she dances to the music she loves. She beautiful and graceful. I could watch her forever.
The best thing is that every ten minutes or so, her eyes find me. Each time I enjoy a private smile before someone demands her attention.
After a while, I hear her laugh drift from the video arcade. A few moments later, she’s at the photo booths crawling inside for pictures with her mom, friends, even Jesse. I don’t care or worry when the curtain closes on them.
Next, all six of the girls squeeze into one booth — legs and arms hanging out. I can’t resist sticking my head inside the curtain to photobomb them.
“Out,” Cherie kicks her friends out of the booth, pulls me in.
The girl from this afternoon, the one who chastised me for a public display of affection, is gone, replaced by the girl I see in private — youthful, wild, happy, sensual.
Tugging the curtain closed, I kiss her deep, hard and quick.
She giggles adorably. “Look at the camera.”
“You look at the camera.” I chuckle. “I’m going to take advantage of you.”
She pushes the button. The machine whirs, the flash blinds us. Turns out that neither of us look at the camera for the majority of the shots. Some get us kissing, some have my head in the way. Most capture some form of Cherie’s chandelier smile. One shot, though, is perfect — sparkling blue eyes look directly into the lens with my mouth on her creamy cheek. I put all the strips in my coat pocket.
Monbeau’s voice booms over to us. “Come here, my Chéri amour, so I can legally buy you a drink.”
After an initial smile in his direction, Cherie looks at me warily. For an angry reaction?
Fuck. I’m slime when you look at me like that.
“Go.” I smile, kiss her nose. “This night is all yours.”
Relieved, she returns my smile. “Will you have a drink with us?”
“I’d love to,” I say.
She wraps her tiny hand around mine, pulls me to the bar. When she lets go, I rest my hand on her shoulder, caress the nape of her neck with my thumb. I’m fully aware of the daggers that Jesse shoots from across the room. My girl doesn’t pull away from me, though. And that’s the only thing that matters.
“Okay, Moon-bow. Grand Marnier. Make it a double,” Cherie says.
Monbeau signals the bartender.
“What’s your poison, sir?” Chef asks me.
I sigh. “Give me some of that sweet shit, too.”
Cherie grins, leans her head toward me.
“Gabby?” Monbeau turns to my cousin.
“Same for me,” she smiles.
“À la vôtre.” The chef raises his glass.
The chef and my girl tap glasses, turn to me and Gabby to tap ours. As we si
p, the two proceed to share their story of drinking on the job courtesy of a generous guest.
“Hold up. Did you two just admit to getting hammered at work?”
“Oh là là, Chéri. We’re in trouble now.” He winks.
“You’re right, Mr. Santana.” If Cherie used that tone of voice as an inside tease, it worked on my cock. She continues, “It was irresponsible. I blame Moon-bow. Being older, he should have known better.” Cherie elbows him. “We weren’t hammered, though. We were merely tipsy.”
Barking a laugh, Monbeau says, “Sweetheart, you were tipsy. I was hammered.” He empties his glass in one swallow. “I recall discounting a $1,000 a night penthouse suite to $30 for a lucky couple.”
I picture the scene with the two of them and chuckle.
A hand briefly touches my arm. I turn to see the last person I expected to see at this party. Jen.
Fuck. Is she a friend of Cherie’s?
“Gabby? Victor?” My ex-fiancee shakes her head at us. “I thought I was coming to a bachelorette party.” She lifts the gift she brought for Gabby.
“Ooooooh.” Gabby glances at me then Jen. “As you can see, it was changed to a birthday party.”
“Yes, I do. For who?” Jen asks, wrinkling her brow.
Jen’s not a friend of Cherie’s. Thank fucking god.
I slide my hand around Cherie’s waist, tuck her into my side. Recently acquainted with the nasty burn of jealousy, I don’t want my girl feeling the slightest twinge of it.
“For this lovely lady, right here,” I say, kissing Cherie’s temple. I make the introductions. “Cherie, my ex-fiancee, Jennifer. Jen, Cherie —” I don’t know how to describe our relationship, so I let my voice trail off.
“His girlfriend.” Cherie finishes the sentence for me.
My girlfriend!
A broad smile takes over my face.
Mi ninfa. My girlfriend.
Cherie shakes Jen’s limp hand. Whether it’s that I have a new girlfriend or that my new girlfriend is a smoking hot witch, Jen looks stunned.
Me? I don’t feel a thing for my ex — not even anger. Not true, I correct myself. I feel one thing — relief. Had I still been tethered to Jen, I would have missed Cherie. What a depressing thought.
Gabby pulls Jen aside. “I invited you when you were engaged to Vic. Since you’re not — ”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Cherie says with a wave of her hand. “Stay, Jen. There’s plenty of food. You don’t mind, do you, Victor?”
With a giant smile, I look into Cherie’s twinkling baby blues. I’m so proud of her confidence, so fucking in love with her. “If you don’t have a problem with it, sweetness, I don’t either.”
She smiles at Jen, again. “Please stay. The cake is divine.”
Monbeau clears his throat.
“And the hors d’oeuvres are out of this world.” Cherie smiles at the chef who winks at her.
The first notes of The Power of Love, a Huey Lewis tune, blares from the speakers. Cherie let’s out a little squeal. “I love this song.” Rolling her hips, she turns to me. “Dance?”
“You’re on.” I slide my hand to the small of her back.
Quickly, Cherie swallows the last of her drink, leads the way to the crowded dance floor — my eyes glued to her swaying ass with every step.
As we walk away, I hear Jen tell Gabby that she’s leaving. I briefly wonder why my ex would attend Gabby’s party at all. Not worth wasting brain cells on.
With my girl singing, hands in the air, bouncing her sexy body around me, I’m the happiest wolf alive.
Time to get Cherie into my arms. I signal the DJ to play the special song next. He nods.
When Huey Lewis finishes, Lionel Richie’s piano softly begins. I wrap my arms around Cherie for a slow dance. Miracle of miracles, she doesn’t fight me. Just glides in close.
We sway to Truly, a sweet and tender love song.
I whisper the lyrics in her ear. “And foreveeeeer, I would be your loveeeeeer.”
“Victor,” my girl whispers.
“Shh. Just hold me, peaches.”
I feel it. The way she moves with me, the way she looks at me, touches me. She’s got my heart, and fuck, I’m fairly certain I’ve got hers.
Barely moving, I sing more of the lyrics just for her. She tilts back to look at me, big eyes sparkling with wonder. Yeah, she’s feeling it, too.
I sing to her. “Because I’m truly, truly in loooove with you, girl.”
I kiss her, lightly, tenderly. When she kisses me back, I suppress the urge to howl with pure joy. Here, in front of everyone, she kisses me deeply, sweetly with fingers in my hair, drawing me close.
I don’t know what’s gotten in to her, but mi ninfa is unapologetically displaying her affection for me, allowing me show mine for her.
A lot of eyes are on us right now. Let them watch me woo my girl. Let the whole world understand. Cherie belongs to me. I belong to her.
The song ends on a whisper. I don’t let her go right away, don’t ever want to let her go.
Fuck, DJ, play it again.
The DJ plays nothing, let’s us have a moment. The silence breaks the spell for her. For the first time, Cherie notices that we have had an audience for our dance. Practically everyone in the room is quiet, staring at us.
Grandmother, Aunt Rebecca and Cherie’s mom grin from ear to ear. So do her high school friends. Even Monbeau has a smile on his face. Jesse looks like he’s been repeatedly kicked in the gut. All expected responses.
The look on Gabby’s face, though, floors me. She’s not even looking at us. Zoned in on Jesse, she looks like she’s feeling his pain. So is Cherie.
“Jesse.” Cherie takes a few steps toward the kid.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Jesse backs up, bolts out the nearest door.
“Jesse, wait.” Cherie calls after him.
Snarling, Gabby grabs Cherie’s arm, spins her around. “You didn’t tell him?”
Cherie shakes her head, tears in her eyes. “I didn’t have a chance. He didn’t run this morning.”
“Don’t give me that bullshit!” Gabby is livid. Her beast is way to close to the surface.
Cherie steps back, away from my cousin’s anger.
“You didn’t want to tell him. You’re having too much fun planning to slip into Jesse’s bed, kissing hot Cajun chefs, all the while fucking my cousin!”
Gabby’s fangs start to drop.
“Gabriela!” I shout at her.
Aunt Rebecca attempts to grip Gabby’s arm. “Hija,” Rebecca says.
The wolf flashes in Gabby’s eyes. I've never seen her this mad. She throws off her mom’s arm, moves closer to Cherie.
“You’re not straight up with any of the boys, are you? Being like your mom isn’t your problem. As it turns out, you take after your two-timing dad. You’re just fucking like him.” She spits out through clenched teeth.
Mouth open in shock, Cherie physically stumbles backward like Gabby punched her.
“Enough!” My own beast surfaces. I yank Gabby’s arm, getting her out of Cherie’s face.
Rivers of tears stream down my girl’s cheeks, washing away the happy glow from the party and our dance.
Cherie glances around the room at everyone, all her friends quietly watching. Her mom reaches for her.
“Sweetie,” Rose says.
Grandmother, wide-eyed, stares at Gabby, stares at me and at the scene. With a loud gagging sound, Cherie pulls away from me and her mom, runs out the same door Jesse did.
“C!” Lauralynn goes right after her.
“What the fuck?!” I turn on Gabby.
I feel the burn of wolf in my eyes, feel my fangs drop fully. I’ve never wanted to kill anyone as much as I do my own cousin right now.
“We’re in mixed company here.” Cruz grabs both of us and turns us to face the wall. “Get control of your wolves. Both of you.”
Shavone signals the DJ to restart the music, but even the blaring music doesn't divert a
ttention from us.
I shove my cousin away from me, hurry to find Cherie. She’s all that matters.
chapter thirty
GAGGING AND BLINDED by my tears, I use one hand to feel my way along the wall, wipe at my eyes with the other. God, I despise crybabies. Now I am one.
“C.” I feel Lauralynn’s hands on my shoulders.
“Get me out of here, Ells.” I sob. “Please.”
“You got it, girlfriend.”
We take a back hallway and wind past service doors that feed the conference rooms in this part of The Av. Checking the doors along the way, we find one that’s unlocked and slip inside.
Within seconds, we hear footsteps, voices at the far end of the hall calling my name. One of the voices is Victor’s.
Lauralynn raises her eyebrows wanting to know if I want to reveal myself. I shake my head. She reaches up, throws the lock and flips off the light switch.
“Master of sound and element of air, cloak us both, our scents, our sounds, hide and hair,” I choke out a quick spell through my tears and hope it works.
The footsteps come closer. I hold my breath, letting it go only when they pass us and keep going.
I slide to the floor, crying. “I can’t believe that just happened. I’m mortified.”
Lauralynn turns the light back on and sits next to me.
“Don’t be. Gabs should be the one mortified.” Lauralynn hugs me. “She had no right to go off on you like that. And don’t you dare believe one word she said.”
I gag on another chest bruising sob. “Words spoken in the heat of anger tend to be true. Perhaps I did get my dad’s DNA — destined to hurt people who get too close to me.”
“Oh, please. I’ve seen no sign of that in you. The only truth in that deranged rant is that Gabby cares more for Jesse than she does for you.” Lauralynn pulls me into another hug. “You didn’t do anything wrong, C.”
I lean on her shoulder and cry inconsolably.
I cry for Daisy and for Dad.
I cry for Mom.
I cry for Jesse, and even for Gabs.
After what seems like hours, the tears ease up.
“My lungs hurt,” I say, pushing off her.
“I can imagine.” Lauralynn smiles. “All the same, this epic cry has been years and years in the making.”
Accidental Lover (Wolven Moon Book 3) Page 21