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She selected matte black tablecloths, tall ivory candles, and gold cutlery while I nodded along and pretended I knew what I was doing.

I’d never seen—let alone help inflate—so many balloons in my life and I was pretty sure the florist hated the sound of the bell above her shop, a signal we were back for more white roses, but the result had been worth it.

Two tall pyramids of champagne glasses greeted us, one on each side of the entrance, glimmering in the warm chandelier light and kicking up anxiety and awe in equal measure.

The Christmas tree stood proud, decorated in gold, white, and black, matching the balloons peppered throughout the dining hall. Looking up, I smothered a gasp. Thin sheets of pale gold gossamer hung curved like ribbons, trailed by string lights that made it feel as if the ceiling had dissolved, leaving only an enchanted night sky above.

Pri squeezed my arm and grinned sidelong at me, and I couldn’t help the proud little smile tugging at my mouth and the bubble of hope swelling in my chest that I’d actually get to enjoy this one.

The light caught her blush-pink dress matching her hair colour exactly as we made our way across the room, straight to the dessert table, where she snatched a golden macaron and stuffed it into her mouth, to my rather undignified snort.

“What?” She shrugged, giving me a sheepish, lopsided smile.

I chuckled, shook my head, and plucked one from the tall layered display, curiosity getting the better of me. I bit into it, and rich salted caramel flooded my taste buds—I should’ve guessed.

Awareness brushed along my spine, telling me someone was watching, and I didn’t need to guess who—except as I peeked around under the pretence of admiring the decorations, quite a few pairs of eyes were on us.

My gaze found him, like a magnet finding true north: a tall shape standing by the Christmas tree, clad in a dark suit that caught the light when he gestured, talking with Matthew and another guy whose name I didn’t know.

My eyes skittered away from his too fast to be casual before I reached for a champagne glass, mouth desert-dry.

Ugh, why does he have to look so—

“Your mystery man couldn’t make it?” Pri asked around a mouthful, eyes sweeping up and down the dance floor.

I swallowed, fighting a knot in my throat, and offered a “No, he couldn’t,” with a lightness I didn’t feel.

Mercifully, a chaotic, blond distraction sauntered towards us and hooked his arms around our shoulders, grinning from ear to ear, dimple on full display.

“Ladies, shall we?”

Music led our movements on the dance floor, and giggles and laughs curled in my ears as we spun, until the curls I’d painstakingly built loosened, until my dress clung to my spine, until we were out of breath and in dire need of a break.

But then Queen’s Don’t stop me now started, and identical grins pulled me back into a silly, dramatic dance, until laughter rang out almost loud enough to drown the music, but nothing could quite distract me from the ice blue gaze setting my skin on fire.

When the song died, Liam cut through the throng to join the guys and we hydrated like the parched, tipsy flowers we were—with more champagne, until we spotted the water at last.

I lifted my hair off my back and twisted it into a makeshift ponytail held in place by my hand, chest heaving, cursing myself for not tying it into a bun or something, when I glimpsed him again, as if my attention was trained on him.

Pri followed my line of sight, loosening a thoughtful hum.

“You know, I wanted to drown him when we were little.”

At her confession and startled little chuckle, I whirled around so fast, I gave myself whiplash. My wide eyes and slack mouth must have asked the question for me.

“We grew up in the same area, same circles.”

She shrugged and took another gulp of champagne, swaying on the spot to a catchy pop song.

“Why didn’t you?” I grumbled out, a little snarkier than I’d meant.

Sure would’ve made my life easier.

I winced internally as soon as the vicious joke hit, then shook my head to dispel it.

“Didn’t want to get in trouble,” she snorted.

“But then, the following week, we made a mess of the kitchen learning to make pancakes together. My parents were away, and his were—”