There. My cream dress, the one Emma made for me, it's perfect.
I slide it on and check my reflection. It hugs my curves. It scoops low enough to show off my chest. It only barely covers my ass.
It's perfect.
I'm not sure exactly what I'm trying to do.
But I'm sure I'm going to drive him out of his head.
I'm going to make it hard for him to pull that I don't want to talk about this, we're friends, we're nothing bullshit.
* * *
I take a shaky step into Inked Hearts.
The lights are dim.
The walls are adorned with purple, teal, and hot pink tinsel.
There's even a Welcome Kaylee banner hanging from the wall. It's in Emma's messy scrawl with a drawing—a tattoo mockup—in each of the four corners.
One from each of the guys. I recognize their styles.
It's...
I blink back a tear.
Emma bounces out from behind the desk. "Surprise. Sort of." She throws her arms around me. "I really am glad you're here."
"Me too." I hug her back. Emma is the best. This would be impossible without her.
"Didn't you throw her a party last week?" Dean moves out from his suite.
"It was her birthday." Emma steps aside. "This is different. And it's for you too. It's so cool that you're buying the shop." She turns to me. "You should have seen that meeting. Dean actually wore slacks."
"Really?" That's hard to believe.
"Don't worry. I don't mind you picturing me without my jeans." He winks. "All these parties too much fun for you, yet?"
"No. It's sweet." It really is.
He moves in to hug me hello. It's sincere—a rarity for him. I really do feel like he's glad I'm here.
I pull back with a smile. "Why are you complaining about the chance to get drunk and make a fool of yourself?"
He laughs. "That's why I like you. Sharp tongue."
My gaze flits around the room. There's Ryan and Walker lining up bottles on the front counter. But where's Brendon?
"I'm not complaining." He releases me and turns to Em. "I'm making sure I get an invite."
"You're a little old..." She smiles, reveling in her teasing.
He mimes being stabbed in the gut. When that gets her laughing, he takes it further. Pretends to double over. Falls to his knees. Mumbles his last words as he falls backward and lands on the floor, splayed out.
Emma nudges him with the toe of her shiny silver stilettos. "Dead. Let's check his pockets."
"Pervert," he mumbles.