Page 40 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

She looks like a goddess dropped into a viper pit. Glowing, divine, and far too good for the type of shit she puts up with.

And all I can think is how wrong she is for this world, and how badly I want to be the one who shields her from it.

And for the first time in one of these parties, especially tonight, I’m not thinking about fitting in, saying the right thing or the headlines. I’m thinking about her.

When I see her confidence falter, just for a second, eyes shifting to the floor, I reach for her hand.

It’s instinct. Protective. Possessive. Both.

“You’re not alone,” I murmur, my thumb brushing over hers.

She looks up at me, startled. Then something in her eyes softens. Just a flicker. But it’s enough.

Dragging her hand in hand to the center of the marbled floor, I take her in my arms, and we dance.

Close. Too close.

My hand on the small of her back, hers resting lightly against my chest.

She fits against me like she’s always belonged there, and something in my chest aches with how right it feels.

I’ve been missing this, missingher, and I hadn’t even known it this whole damn time.

“Who taught you how to dance?” Her chin tilts, eyes searching mine.

“My mom,” I say quietly. “Before my first school dance. She made me lead. Said a Marchetti always leads.”

She laughs softly. “Sounds like something my mom would’ve said. Except I think she liked animals more than people sometimes. She loved animals, horses, mostly. Always told me that animals tell the truth more than people do.”

There’s a pause, a breath suspended in time. Her voice softens. “She passed away years ago. Cancer.”

“I’m sorry. I remember Denver telling me it was hard on both of you.” The words catch somewhere behind my ribs.

"At least you guys had each other. It's always hard to let go, especially if you're not ready to.” My voice reduces to a whisper as I fight back the emotion thinking about my mother.

Our bodies are still moving to the music, but something else shifts between us. Something deeper, heavier.

“She was the only person who really saw me, you know? Through the performance.” I'm not sure why I’m saying it now, only knowing that I want her to hear it. “Not just the name. Not the suits or the attitude. Me.”

Sophie swallows hard. “I think mine would’ve liked you.”

“Think so?”

“She had a thing for charming troublemakers with good hearts.”

I chuckle, but it’s quieter this time. “She sounds like a smart woman.”

“She was.”

And for the first time tonight, her hand doesn’t tremble in mine.

Our eyes lock again. My gaze flicks to her mouth, plump, slightly parted, flushed.

Kissable. Dangerous. Impossible to forget.

We’re inches apart. Breath mingling. The air between us thick with the weight of everything unspoken.

Her gaze flicks to my mouth.

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