Page 118 of Before Dawn

I yawned, trying to rub the sleep from my eyes. “Azzaria, what happened to ‘I’m never getting feelings for anyone ever again’?”

Her lips twitched, fighting a smile. “That was before Dillon. Plus, I’ve got a whole strategy planned out.” She shoved a folder at me, which I stared at like it was a bomb.

If I had known all it took to break her out of her ‘I hate love’ phase was an internship, I would’ve encouraged her to do it months ago.

After two hours of hanging banners and rearranging furniture, I regretted giving in to the cake. She’d turned into a tyrant, barking orders like a drill sergeant and obsessing over every detail. Amid the chaos, my thoughts kept drifting to Mikkel—his anger, his perfectionism, and how it had shaped him. I knew about his perfectionism; he’d run himself ragged with work, losing his mind if even a comma or semicolon was out of place, or how I’d overhear him on the phone trying to fix everything. But the anger? I never would’ve guessed it. Everyone has flaws, though, right? I wanted to understand more, but I wouldn’t push him. All I could hope was that I’d never be on the receiving end of his wrath.

The sound of Azzaria’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Help me fix this corner?” she asked, her brow furrowed as she glared at the sad cluster of crimson and black balloons floating in the corner.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, straightening up from where I was kneeling on the floor. “Just as soon as I finish this slice of cake.”

Azzaria gave me a look. “You’re such a sucker for chocolate cake. But fine, keep eating. The faster we finish, the sooner you can take a nap.”

I smiled, taking another bite. “The cake was clearly a trap.”

She grinned. “A well-designed one. You’ll thank me later.”

After a few minutes of watching her put up streamers and dealing with the balloons, I couldn’t resist teasing her. “Are you sure you’re excited enough?”

She paused mid-task, glancing at me with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You’re hanging those banners like your life depends on it.”

Her lips tightened. “It has to be perfect because he deserves it.”

I leaned against the wall. “Well, if that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

She blinked, as if my words took a moment to sink in, then her face softened. “Do you really think so?”

I walked over to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I really do.”

Azzaria didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she looked over at the decorated office, her gaze lingering on the balloons, the streamers, and the table set with lemon flavored pastries she baked for him. Then, in a quieter voice, she said, “I just want him to know I care. I’m not good at showing that. But I want him to see it. To feel it.”

My heart softened at her vulnerability. Azzaria was always so guarded, never letting anyone in too close. It was nice to see this side of her—the side that cared deeply, even if she didn’t always know how to express it.

“This is perfect,” I assured her. “He’s going to see how much you care, even if it’s through all this craziness.”

“Thanks, Abi,” she said softly. “You always know what to say.”

I gave her a small grin. “That’s what best friends are for. Now let me get these balloons fixed before Dillon thinks we’ve turned his office into a circus.”

I carefully adjusted the balloons, aligning them just right. Each knot seemed to demand a little more attention, and I smiled as I straightened the strands.

“Okay,maybeI enjoy this a little,” I admitted, pausing to admire my work.

She raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I knew it.”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I said quickly, needing a moment away from the festivities. “I’ll be back.”

As I walked down the corridor after leaving the office, someone had suddenly pulled me into a corner.

“Holy–” I started to exclaim, ready to unleash a string of colorful language until I realized who it was.

“You scared me,” I said softly, looking up into Mikkel’s eyes.

“Lo siento,55 baby,” he murmured, his voice like velvet as he brushed a stray curl of hair from my face.

“Speaking Spanish to me willneverget old.”

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