Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30269 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
And yet, he can’t manage a bow tie, which I find oddly endearing.
“You’re staring, my queen.”
“Your tie is crooked.” I reach up and slide the silk loose to start from scratch, folding and tying the way I was taught years ago by Uncle Rowan.
Hugo goes tense beneath my hands, but he doesn’t inch away.
“There. Now you’re presentable.”
“Presentable.” He bites back a rare grin. “High praise, my queen.”
“Don’t get used to it.” I flatten his lapels. “You clean up well, Mr. Alexander.”
Color creeps above his collar. “And you look…” His gaze travels the gown. “Like the main attraction. No one’s going to look at the art.”
I tilt my head. “I think there was a compliment in there somewhere.”
“You think right.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice comes quieter. “Happy birthday, Novalee.”
It catches me off guard. With everything crowding my head, I’d nearly forgotten. “Happy birthday to you, too.” I smooth his lapel one last time. “Of all the people to share a birthday with, I’m glad it’s you.”
“Here’s to surviving another year.” An unguarded smile touches his lips as he gestures for me to precede him down the hall. “Shall we?”
With a nod, I grab my clutch and move past him, holding my secret close—the best birthday gift I’ll ever get.
The elevator takes us to the ground floor of the tower, where music filters into the corridor. He holds the door open, and the massive space swells with attendees. Chandeliers hang above a sea of silk and black tie, while a string quartet threads something elegant beneath the din of murmurs and clinking crystal. Along the far wall, the auction lots wait for an early preview, canvases and dress forms under soft spotlights.
Hugo leads me to a round table near the edge of the room, half-hidden behind a bank of white florals with a clear line to the nearest exit. It’s exactly where I would have put myself, and I have a feeling he chose it with me in mind.
Landon is already seated, one arm slung over the back of Elise’s chair. Beside them, far too casual in a tux, bow tie undone, sits Ford.
“Hot damn, baby girl.” His boyish grin spreads as he rises to pull out my chair, beating Hugo to it. “That gown should be illegal.”
“It’s just a dress, Ford.”
“Nothing’s ever just a dress with you.”
As I drop into the chair, I roll my eyes at him. Instead of getting irritated, he winks at me before sinking back down. Hugo takes the seat to my left as Elise reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.
“You look amazing. That dress is…wow. I’m so proud of you.” She’s radiant, color high in her cheeks, though the shadows under her eyes give away her sleepless nights with a newborn.
“Thank you,” I say, returning her hand-squeeze. “I’m proud of you, too. And I’m sorry I haven’t been by to visit. I’ve spent every waking hour finishing the gown.”
“It paid off, Novalee. I wouldn’t have missed tonight for anything.”
“Don’t let her fool you.” Landon aims a wry smile at his wife. “I practically had to pry her out of the nursery. She made me swear we’d be home before Theo’s next feeding.”
“He’s three weeks old.” She swats his arm. “I’m allowed to miss him.”
I laugh, glad they finally settled on a name for the baby.
My palm itches to rest over my middle again. After Sebastian, Elise is the one I’d want to tell. She’d cry and grab my hands in excitement. Shout and jump up and down as we make plans to go baby shopping.
The first course arrives before Ford can launch into whatever’s making his eyes gleam. A server sets a small plate in front of each of us, seared scallops topped with an edible flower.
“The committee overruled me on the flowers,” Hugo says, almost apologetic. “Among other things.”
“They’re perfect.” And I mean it. So far, everything about tonight has been flawless.
A waiter leans in to fill our glasses, champagne fizzing pale gold against the crystal. When he reaches mine, I shake my head. “Just water for me, thank you.”
Ford arches a brow. “You? Turning down champagne?”
“I’ve had bad luck with it.” I keep it light, but Los Angeles sits underneath the words, and Ford, who knows exactly what I mean, lets it go with a small nod. He directs the waiter toward my water glass instead.
The scallops give way to a main course of filet, potatoes, and greens. It smells divine, but my stomach disagrees. I cut everything into smaller pieces and chase down a few bites.
“Still having appetite issues?” Elise asks, a crinkle to her brow.
“Just nerves.” I spear a potato and make a show of it.
She holds my gaze a beat longer than I’d like, until Landon steals a bite of steak off her plate.
The conversation flows after that. Ford holds court with a story about a yacht, a customs official, and a crate of something he swears was perfectly legal. He even manages to drag a reluctant smile out of Hugo. Landon counters with a less sensational story about Theo’s weight gain, but Elise lights up so bright, he might as well be comparing their son to Einstein.