Page 40 of Stick Fight

Me: Suffering through a wedding dinner, pretending to care about chicken or fish while secretly wondering what you’re wearing.

Gabby: I think you mean what I’m NOT wearing.

I chuckle and glance at the plate of chicken placed in front of me, but my appetite is completely obliterated as I think about what she’s NOT wearing.

Me: Careful, Red. Don’t start something you can’t finish.

Gabby: I fully intend to finish. Eventually. You just have to get through dinner, and then fireworks. Oh, and yes, there will be fireworks. In your pants.

Me: You’re evil.

Gabby: You love it.

Me: Debatable.

Gabby. LOL. Eat your meal. I’ll be waiting.

Jesus, this woman is going to kill me. I adjust in my chair, forcing my thoughts back to the table, but it’s useless. My body already knows what’s coming tonight. I work to get the stupid grin off my face as I slide my phone back into my pocket, and this time it’s a very pale Taylor who’s watching me. What the heck is going on with her and Elias?

I don’t know, but this dinner needs to hurry the hell up.

Soon enough, the speeches are given, the cake served and the music swells through the reception hall. Laughter and conversation fill the air, but my mind is elsewhere. Easton and Jenny have their first dance and when the floor begins to fill with guests, I take my chance to slip out.

I move quickly through the hallways, keeping my head down, anticipation humming through me. I take the elevator to my floor and when I reach the door, I slide my key in and step inside, only to find the room…empty.

An uneasy feeling settles in my stomach. Did she change her mind?

That thought tightens something in my chest. I call out, my voice louder than I intended. “Gabby?”

No answer.

I check the bedroom. The bathroom. Nothing.

I exhale sharply, raking a hand through my hair, but just as I step back into the living room, movement flickers in the corner of my eye.

“Roman.”

Her voice is soft, familiar. I turn to find her stepping in from the patio, the dim city lights framing her body, giving her a ghostly appearance. My little ghost. Her expression shifts as she takes me in.

“Are you okay?” There’s a teasing edge to her voice when she adds, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

A quiet laugh escapes me, and the tension in my shoulders ease. “No, I just…” I glance around the room, then scrub a hand down my face, feeling a little ridiculous. “I didn’t know where you were.”

Her lips curve into a small, knowing smile. “I was watching an Elvis wedding on the Strip.” She leans against the doorframe, the neon glow catching in her hair. “It was cute.”

“Oh yeah?” I step closer, watching her.

“Not that I’d ever want to do that,” she adds quickly, but the laughter in her eyes lingers.

I smirk. “Enough drinks, and who knows what anyone will do.”

“I guess that’s true.”

My gaze trails down the length of her, taking in thehideous yet strangely endearingorange dress. It’s ridiculous, but somehow, on her, it works.She works.

“You didn’t mind a Vegas wedding, though?” I ask.

She hesitates. “It wasn’t my first choice.”

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