Chapter 40

"What do you think of this one?" Stella asks, holding a dress up for me to inspect.

It's been a couple of days since Mama Bang showed off her hockey skills, and we're shopping for a gala outfit for her while King gets ready for his game tonight.

But really, we've been messing around, cackling over dresses that are hideous, playing dress up in the pretty ones, and only recently getting down to business.

Because we have more errands to do before we head over to the arena to watch the Eagles play.

"It's gorgeous," I tell her, running my fingers over the delicate lace sleeves. Because the navy bodice with the full skirt and just a sprinkling of sparkle is indeed that.

"Good," she says with a conspiratorial smile, "because I didn't want to make my soon-to-be, soon-to-be daughter-in-law unhappy when I try it on regardless."

I laugh, but then a bolt of guilt slides through me.

Because this had all started as a deception.

And I'm really starting to love Stella.

She's…well, she's almost as amazing as King.

Case in point? Her reading my expression as she settles her palm on my shoulder. "Don't," she murmurs. "I understand. And you're here now. You guys are moving forward together. I'm just sorry King felt like—" She shakes her head.

I cover her hand with my own. "In fairness, it was my stupid idea. And I think—" My eyes catch on the glimmering diamond on my finger. "I think it was an excuse to spend more time with him even when I was telling myself that it was a terrible idea."

"Because in the end," Stella says quietly, "you love each other."

My heart squeezes hard. "Yes."

That hand on my shoulder tightens. "I'm happy you're part of my life, no matter how that came to be. Now"—her tone turns businesslike—"how about I try this on, we go look at jewelry for your dress, and then we hit the grocery store to fight old ladies over the last can of cranberry sauce?"

"What?" I tease. "You don't make it yourself?"

She pats my arm then starts leading the way to the changing room. "Honey, there are far more important things in life than making cranberry sauce from scratch." A beat, her smile sly. "Especially, when we have a hockey game to watch."

Why do I know that truer words have never been spoken?

Stella's dress fit perfectly.

I found a gorgeous pair of earrings to go with my gown for the gala tomorrow.

And we scored not one, but two cans of cranberry sauce.

Then watched the Eagles handily beat the Grizzlies, cheering so loudly for King that I'm surprised I still have a voice this morning.

I've been up since the sun was barely cresting the hills in the east, getting ready for my first real Thanksgiving ever.

And I'm not alone.

Chrissy's hosting, her house full to the brim with critters and people.

King's been peeling potatoes and cooking veggies.

Rome is making a sweet potato casserole.

Cam—surprisingly, since I didn't know the young forward for the Eagles liked to cook—is taking care of the turkey.

I'm working on dessert with a huge batch of Everything Cookies.

Stella is organizing—setting the table, checking timers, washing dishes, and shooing the boys away from her apple pie.

Joan of Freaking Arc—Chrissy's cranky senior cat—has spent the day on her perch in the kitchen, taking lazy, clawed swipes at everyone who gets too close.

And, finally, Jean-Michel's been keeping us in plenty of pastries from Molly's while tapping away on his laptop at the island.

Hockey's on in the background.

Kittens run this way and that. Zeus is having the time of his life reunited with his siblings, and being bossed around by his slightly older and smaller sister, Athena.

Chaos and joy. Plentiful chatter, and…it's a nice day?—

The best day.

Full of laughter and friends and love.

But somehow, there's an ache in my heart, a pulse of something missing.

Until King wraps an arm around my middle and leads me onto the back porch. The sun is setting in the distance, turning the hills into a sea of gold. A large oak stands tall and center stage in the yard, casting a smattering of gorgeously patterned shadows on the grass.

"Look at me, princess," he says softly.

I drag my eyes from the sight of that gorgeous tree and turn to the man next to me.

"How are you doing?" he asks, gently brushing his fingers along my side, over my shirt, beneath which the bruises from Phillip that have turned a ghastly mix of purple and blue.

"I'm fine," I say softly.

"Because you look lost, princess."

"I'm—" I exhale. "I haven't had a holiday like this before."

His expression is impossibly gentle. "Like what?"

"Loud and with the scent of good food filling my nose. Chaos but somehow everyone getting along and helping and teasing each other and—" I shake my head. "It's a perfect day, and"—ugh, I can't believe that my eyes are stinging—"I guess I just…miss my dad."

It snuck up on me.

This feeling of sadness.

It's been so long since my dad's been gone that I didn't think I felt the loss any longer, not in any heavy, meaningful way. But I?—

"He would love them," I whisper. "Love your mom and how beautifully she raised you. Love that crazy Zoom meeting we had with all of your siblings where everyone was talking over everyone else and no one could hear anything and…he'd love you mostly because of the way you look at me."

Now that we aren't pretending.

Now that our cards are on the table.

Because King looks at me…like I am the center of his universe.

"Princess," King murmurs, those eyes warm pools of blue seawater. "God, how did I get so lucky to find you?"

I settle my head against his shoulder. "I like to think that I was the one who ran into your arms."

He chuckles. "I think you're right."

We stand there, watching the sun set until the noise inside grows and we go back in.

It's still chaos and loud and there's a battle over yummy carbs.

But we manage to salvage a couple of Everything cookies and a slice of pie to share.

Because it's us.

Versus the world.

For as wonderful as yesterday was…

Today's been a shitshow.

I'm sweaty and discombobulated and have been dealing with a thousand last-minute details and crises.

All while trying to get gala glam for our event.

And fake lashes aren't cutting that.

Sighing in disgust at the glue-on that's sitting diagonally across my lid instead of rounding beautifully at my lash line, I rip it free and toss it in the trash.

Fuck it, I'm going to the gala to raise money for my pups, not to worry about perfectly curled lashes.

I touch up my lipstick, leave my hair in loose curls that flow down my back, pop in my earrings, and spend the next five minutes ignoring my ribs as I wrestle myself into my dress.

A spritz of perfume, gloss and lipstick in my purse, then I'm dousing my face in setting spray (and praying my makeup doesn't melt off when I run around like a lunatic at the winery) and slipping on my sparkling high heeled pumps that are unbelievably gorgeous, but will no doubt have me reaching for the flats I've stowed in my purse by the end of the night.

One more look in the mirror.

A deep breath.

And then…I'm ready.

Kind of.

This feels like a big moment, more than just the fundraiser, but King and I at an important event as a couple.

With no barriers between us.

No secrets.

No hidden trauma to rip us apart.

King and I…

Versus the world.

"You're good," I tell my reflection. "This is going to be good."

Exhaling, I nod then move out of the bathroom to find that King's given up on waiting for me in the bedroom. Grinning, knowing that he's been beyond patient with the whirlwind that I've been today, I make my way out into the hall, and slowly down the stairs.

King is there, standing at the bottom.

And his face, his eyes, the way he moves toward me…is like I've stepped out of the pages of a fairy tale.

"Princess," he says as he meets me at the bottom of the stairs. "You are beautiful."

"I—" I spin around. "Can you help with the last part of my zipper?"

He doesn't lean in, doesn't touch me—not for a long moment.

Then his fingers brush my skin as he tugs up my zipper, leaning in to kiss the side of my neck, murmuring in my ear, "I've never seen anything more beautiful than you in that dress."

I shiver, lean back against him. "Take a good look," I say, going for light, "because I'll likely be a sweaty mess by the end of the night."

"Newsflash"—another kiss before his hands settle on the tops of my arms and he spins me to face him—"I like it when you're sweaty too."

A wink that has my mouth curving, my body drifting toward the warmth and strength of his. "Thanks for being my hot date tonight," I say, straightening his bow tie for no reason, except that I need to touch him.

His chuckle rubs over my skin like velvet. "Anytime, princess." He tilts his head toward the garage. "Mom is in the kitchen scarfing down all of your cookies because she doesn't eat quote fancy food?—"

"That's not true!" Stella shouts from the other room.

King grins, leans in and stage-whispers, "—so she's filling up now."

"Kingston Bang," Stella snaps, walking into the entryway—and it should be noted, doing that walking while brushing cookie crumbs from her face. "How dare you—" She freezes, eyes going wide. "Aurora, honey. My God. You're beautiful."

My throat goes tight, especially as she walks over to me and gently straightens one of my curls.

"Beautiful," she says again, squeezing my hand before nodding at King and turning for the kitchen and the hallway leading to the garage.

Though I don't miss that she stops off for another cookie.

King takes my hand. "Your chariot awaits."

I exhale.

Because this is it.

All of the work of the last months, all of the pups we're going to be able to help over the next year, every detail I've obsessed over…it's all coming down to tonight.

A hand on my jaw.

A kiss on my forehead.

"It's going to be okay."

And somehow with his palm on my skin and his calm, confident eyes holding mine, I know that he's right.

"It's going to be great," I whisper, taking his hand and letting him lead me to the car.

The winery is beautiful.

The space is perfectly decorate.

Lots of alcohol is consumed and hardly a crumb of "fancy" food remains.

And money is flowing.

So, I decide it's safe to stop in the bathroom for a necessary pit stop.

And that's when I realize King and I were both wrong earlier.

Because I come face to face with…

"Stacy."