“That’s great,” Larissa says. “But weird.”
“Why?”
“He doesn’t have a lot of friends.”
My heart tightens, and I look at her with a frown. “Really? Why?”
She shrugs. “He’s just not very social. He never has been. If he goes out for a beer or has girlfriends—no offense …”
“None taken.”
“If he does those things, then no one knows about it.”
I wonder if he’s lonely at night or if he has someone to vent to after a hard day. Who eats dinner with him? Who takes care of him when he’s sick?
“That’s … really sad,” I say, my spirits sinking.
Larissa nods. “I know. I agree. I love Wade. He has the best dry humor ever. And he’s always so sure of himself. I’ve never been that way and always thought that he was so cool because he knew who he was, what he wanted, and how to get it. No amount of ribbing by his brothers ever fazed him.”
That makes sense. It matches everything I’ve witnessed in my interactions with him.
She excuses herself, giving me grace for my distractedness, and makes her way through the crowd. I stand, clutching my champagne, and let loose of the reins that have kept my mind from spinning.
The alcohol warms my stomach. My head is light, affected by the bubbly. I move through the well-wishers, needing the movement to work through the thoughts in my brain.
The idea of Wade being such a loner staggers me. I hate it. A ripple of worry trickles through my veins. Why would a man like him be alone?
Then again, I’m alone much of the time.
I take a sip of the champagne and ponder the situation.
I’m alone because it’s been a very shitty year. I had to pick up the pieces of my shattered heart, and that’s something you can’t do with an audience. It’s ugly and dark and snot-filled, and the biggest work is done in the quiet dredges of the night.
But I’ve made it to the other side. All I have left to navigate, to solidify in many ways, is my relationship with my grandfather. I don’t know how or when that will happen or what it will look like, but it’s manageable.
“Excuse me.” A man holding a large round tray smiles at me. “Would you like a fresh champagne?”
“Sure.”
We exchange my empty glass for a filled one before he moves on.
Adele’s voice sweeps through the sound system, filling the room with a special touch. I close my eyes. My body sways to the vocals as a peacefulness descends over me.
A sudden touch at the small of my back makes me jump. My eyes fly open, and I start to spin around but stop.
I know who it is without looking.
Wade takes over my senses with his proximity. His cologne ripples through the air in a subdued yet bold way. The light pressure of his fingers just above my behind sends a flicker of excitement through my body. His voice is controlled as he speaks next to my ear.
“Where did you get your drink?”
The heat of his breath makes me shiver. I turn to the side to see him.
“A server,” I say. “Why?”
He plucks it from my hand. “Did you drink it?”
“No. Not yet.” I furrow my brow. “Why? And how did you know I had a new one, anyway?”
We look at each other, neither of us flinching.
“I thought I told you in the car not to accept drinks from anyone but me?” he asks.
“Well, technically, you said you or your brothers, so …”
He’s not amused. His lips form a tight, thin line as he looks at me with enough intensity to make me wither into the floor.
That is, if I wasn’t me.
I square my shoulders to his. “I got it from someone your family paid to walk around passing out free champagne. I’m not really following your whole daddy vibe.”
My choice of words register with both of us at the exact same time.
Oh, shit.
His brows shoot to the ceiling along with mine. My brain screams to fix it before he can react.
“Bad choice of words,” I say, backtracking.
He grabs his tie and works his neck back and forth, his eyes never leaving mine.
“That is,” I tease, “unless you like being called daddy.”
He clears his throat. “Dara, please, let’s not—”
“Wade!”
Rosie runs across the dance floor and stops between us. She turns her back to me and faces Wade.
My heart thunders in my chest and I’m a bit happy for the little clam jam. I need a second.
“Do you like my dress?” Rosie asks Wade.
“It’s very nice.”
“Oh.” She chews on her fingernail, directing a side-eye on me. “Want to watch a show with me?”
“What are you talking about?” Wade asks her, fidgeting with his tie and trying to keep his exasperation in check.
“Iggy brought an iPad for me in case I got bored because this is a grown-up thing. You can watch it with me if you want.”