MARTA STRAIGHTENED MY TIE. “YOU LOOK SLICK, Dom. How do you feel?”
“Less than slick.”
“Well…” she patted my chest hard, “your girl looks like an angel, so I hope you find it in your cold, black heart to treat her like one.”
“I always do, Mar.”
“Mmmhmmm. You do, and I’m proud of you for that. However, we both know tonight isn’t like other nights.”
I’d like to think if I had the chance, I would have found the words to refute her, but the click of high heels drawing near averted my attention elsewhere. Claire strode toward us, her shiny plum-colored lips curving into a smile.
“Beauty.” I took her hands in mine, holding her at arm’s length so I could take a long look at her. Her dress was unexpected, and at first glance, not blatantly sexy, but gorgeous nonetheless. Her breasts were pushed up high, swelling round and firm above the top of her bodice. When she moved, the subtle slit in her skirt revealed a pale, freckled leg, all the way up to mid-thigh.
Her breath caught when our eyes finally met. “You’re in a suit.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure you should be allowed out of the house like this. Danger, danger.”
I chuckled as I pressed a kiss to the side of her neck. “You’re incredible, Claire. If I forget my manners while we’re at this thing, remember me telling you this now—you are stunning, and I’m really proud to have you with me.”
Marta clapped. “All right, all right. The car is here. Time to go, peeps.”
Claire caught her hand. “Have fun on your date with Iris.”
“Not a date,” Marta singsonged. “Not when those cunt-blockers Roddy and Adam are going to be there too.”
As we passed, Marta smacked me on the ass. “Be good to her, Dom, or I swear to god…”
She didn’t finish her threat, but she didn’t have to. I had no intention of treating Claire poorly tonight, no matter how badly I wanted to sink into a dark hole. I wouldn’t. For her.
And for Dylan.
Tonight wasn’t about me. It was about raising money so other kids wouldn’t suffer like Dylan had. I had no idea if they’d ever find a cure, but if there was any sense to this fucked up world we lived in, there had to be a way that children didn’t suffer through surgeries, chemo, radiation, pain after pain after pain, only to die before they even had a chance to live.
In the limo, I tucked Claire beside me, burying my face in her neck. Her scent never failed to ground me, to give me that safe, cared-for feeling I’d had during my long, hot summers in Georgia.
“Is there anything I should know before we arrive?” she asked.
I straightened, tracing my eyes over her serious expression. “Is this work-mode Claire already?”
“It is. It’s easier for me to compartmentalize this way. You can go off and do your thing and I won’t be hurt or neglected.” She tugged on my tie. “So, is there anything?”
There were a million things. Shit I should say, should tell her, wanted her to know, but I had no clue where to begin, or if she’d even want that baggage when she was walking away from me in less than a week.
When we were walking away from each other.
“No, baby. Have a drink or two and keep the wolves at bay. Maybe strut by me every so often so I can watch and be distracted by your tits and ass.”
She let out a light snort. “Oh, you and your way with words.”
We arrived at the venue without fanfare, entering through a side door. Claire trailed beside me into the museum, which had been transformed into an event space. Bars bracketed the wide-open space with perfectly set tables dotted around the center.
I headed straight for the bar, although I felt eyes on me from every direction.
My beer was ready first, so while we waited for Claire’s cocktail, I surveyed the room. I recognized many of these people from attending this gala the past several years, but none whose name I remembered.
None except her. Chelsea Watson.
From across the room, our eyes met, and she waved me over with a grin. Claire moved beside me with her drink in hand. I touched her shoulder.
“I see someone I know. Would you mind if I…?” I nodded toward the direction I intended on going.
She straightened, following my gaze. “Oh. Sure. I’ll be fine. I wanted to wander around and look at the paintings anyway.”
I forced a half-smile out. “The wandering queen.”
“CEO of Wandering. That’s me.” She nudged me forward. “Go, please.”
I peered down at my girl one more time. “I’ll find you. Don’t wander too far.”
As I walked away from her, I swore I heard her whisper, “I’ll try,” but when I turned around, she was already gone.
