Page 42 of Stick Fight

She crinkles her nose in thought. “I think we should just keep a low profile.”

I raise an eyebrow, glancing down at the orange monstrosity she’s wearing. “Hard to do in this dress, but it will be dark, and the wedding party is big, and of course, fireworks will be stealing the spotlight.”

She takes in a big breath, her chest rising as she exhales slowly. Her eyes gloss over for a moment, and I can feel the weight of the thought she’s trying to push down. “I can’t believe tonight…it was supposed to be my wedding night.”

My stomach tightens at the rawness in her voice. “Regrets?”

Her lips tremble just slightly, but she’s doing her best to hold it together. “I have lots of regrets.” She lifts her chin, a sign of her resolve, but I can see the cracks. The vulnerability hiding just beneath the surface. “Not marrying Cass, isn’t one of them.”

I know that, deep down, she’s relieved to have seen his true colors before making that commitment. But I can tell it still stings, the uncertainty, the feeling of not being enough, the quiet ache that’s harder to erase.

Tonight I plan to show her she’s more than enough. She deserves to know how amazing she really is, especially after everything she’s been through.

“Okay.” I tug on her hand gently, pulling her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Wanting to lighten the mood, I offer a teasing smile. “The wedding didn’t happen, but baby, this is Vegas. Anything can happen in Vegas, including a non-wedding night to remember.”

Her lips curve into a smile, her eyes softening as she cups my cheeks. “Thanks, Roman. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

“Hey, what are rebounds with benefits for?” I joke, trying to ease some of the tension. I reach up and tuck a loose curl behind her ear, admiring the way it falls against her skin. Then I step back and give her a slow, appreciative whistle as I look her over. “Honestly, Gabs. I’m going to be the envy of every guy tonight.”

She laughs, light and easy, but then smacks my chest with a mock scowl. “Stop trying to sweet talk me. I’m already coming back to this room with you tonight.”

I growl low in my throat, pulling her closer by the waist. “Right.”

She smiles, but there’s a flicker of something softer in her eyes. “Let’s go.”

She steps away and grabs a small bag, and I open the door, glancing up and down the hall instinctively. I’m not sure why. Maybe I’m half-expecting to see that asshole again. I pull her gently with me, and the door clicks softly behind us.

On the elevator, there’s an almost palpable sense of excitement. People bustle around us, heading to their own destinations, but all I can focus on is Gabby beside me, her warmth next to mine. We reach the rooftop, and the warm night air rushes over us. Gabby lifts her face to the sky, inhaling deeply, and for a brief moment, it feels like everything in the world is just right.

“Nice to get out of the room, huh?” I ask, my voice quiet, just for her.

She chuckles, a soft, genuine sound that tugs at my heart. “Very.”

I glance around, my eyes settling on a cluster of the wedding party, laughing and chatting in groups. As I think about introducing her, I feel Gabby’s grip tighten slightly in mine, and I meet her gaze.

“We should say hello,” she suggests, her voice a little uncertain.

“You don’t have to,” I say, not wanting her to do anything she’s not comfortable doing.

She shakes her head, though, and her fingers play nervously with the sleeve of her dress. “I think it might be better to meet them. If we don’t tear off the band-aid right now, we’re going to be the topic of conversation all night.”

Does she really think that?

She lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “I can hear the whispering now. You don’t want that, Roman.”

Clearly the fashion world she’s used to is cutthroat, full of whispers and gossip. I get it. But my friends? They’re not like that.

“Well, tell them you’re with the convention, okay?” I smile at her, trying to ease the tension in her shoulders.

She chuckles, and I can see a flicker of amusement in her eyes. “How else will this make sense? We’ll say we met yesterday?”

Nodding, I give her hand a reassuring tug. “Yes, and that we’re also old friends.”

She agrees, and I gesture with a nod toward the group. “Come on.”

We walk over to Rip and one of the bridesmaids, and the moment Rip sees us, a wide smile lights up his face. He opens his mouth, about to say something, but then he pauses, raising an eyebrow, a silent question in his gaze.

I can tell he’s trying to figure out how much he can say, if he should mention whoGabby really is.

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