Page 118 of Backlash

Well, when she puts it like that. My eyebrow lifts. “You think I look sexy?”

Adair’s eyes narrow, her lips flatten into a line, but she can’t stop herself from laughing.

“Sorry, Lucky,” I say, pulling her to me. “I’m trying.”

“I know. Me, too. We’ll get better at this.”

“At what? Being from different sides of the track?”

“At just letting small stuff like this go,” she says.

I open my mouth, about to tell her that I can’t let five-thousand dollars go, but then I shut it. She’s right. Money matters a lot more when you don’t have it. Adair does. I can’t change that. But it doesn’t define who she is, and I know it.

“Now, I think you said something about making this up to me?” I remind her, my head dipping to her neck.

“What do you have in mind?” she murmurs.

“Let me show you.”

I haven’t been to a lot of weddings. Foster kids don’t get invitations to things like that, but I suspect this is a bit crazier than most. Between a thousand guests and the release of live doves inside the church, I find myself wondering if Cirque de Soleil will be performing at the reception. Thankfully, it’s just another extravagant party.

Ropes of pale pink roses and ivy drape elegantly across the ceiling, meeting in the center where a crystal chandelier hangs over the dance floor. A hundred tables cluster around it, each carefully set with bone china and silver flatware.

“Want something from the bar?” Cyrus asks when we find our table.

“Cyrus!” Poppy says sharply.

“Oh, sorry, man.” My roommate looks flustered.

“It’s okay.” I grip the back of my chair and look around. “I think I’m going to find Adair.”

I’m weaving my way through a crowd of Valmont elite, searching for her, when a hand closes over my arm. I pivot to find her standing behind me.

“I was just looking for…” Words fail me. I saw her walk down the aisle in her bridesmaid’s dress, but there had been a crowd blocking my view. Up close? She’s every dream I’ve forgotten in the morning, come back to me. Her dress is the palest pink, almost as fair as her skin. The gauzy fabric crosses delicately over her breasts and wraps around the curve of her shoulders, showcasing her freckles. Despite the hours of makeup, she looks like she does in the morning after we make love—lips pink, cheeks stained with a flush of red. I’ll never remember exactly what she wore, but I will never forget this feeling.

“Did I do alright?” she says, laughter in her eyes. When I don’t answer, she prompts, “Walking down the aisle? I hope my practice paid off.”

I shake myself out of my fog and crook a finger at her. “You didn’t trip once,” I say, trying to sound natural. “That deserves a reward.”

No one notices us kissing at a wedding. We blend in with the romantic atmosphere too well. So I take my time, showing her exactly how perfect she is to me. When I finally release her, we wander through the middle of the crowd, and apart from everyone.

The floor-to-ceiling windows of the country club ballroom look out over a large, picturesque lake. Banks of red-barked cypress trees, up-lit with gold, cluster around the shores, and wide swathes of green fairway dotted with white sand sweep in every direction. The lake itself is a mirror of the sky above, glowing with the incandescent oranges, reds, and purples of the setting sun.

I squeeze Adair’s hand as an announcer’s smooth baritone calls out from the P.A. system. “Please join us in the ballroom where Malcolm and Virginia will now share their first dance as a married couple.”

The newlyweds stroll to the middle of the parquet dance floor, hand in hand, as a spotlight appears from above. Everyone applauds, even me. I couldn’t care less about Malcolm and Ginny and the rest of the MacLaine family, honestly. It’s more like I’m clapping for the idea that two people can give this much of themselves to each other.

Adair shoots me a surprised look.

“What?” I ask defensively. “This is pretty magical.”

“Weddings are definitely romantic,” Adair says with a sigh. She takes my hand in both of hers and rests her head on my shoulder as the first notes of their song start up.

It’s a short song, and just as the next begins, the announcer invites everyone to join in the dancing.

Adair has other ideas, though, because she pulls me into the hallway.

“Where are we going, Lucky?”