“Te amo también.” She rises on the tips of her toes and seals her mouth over mine.
A shiver rushes down my spine as she deepens the kiss. Our tongues fuse together, teasing each other until we’re both breathless.
She pulls away with a laugh. “What do you say about getting out of here?”
“Where do you want to go first?” I pull my keys from my back pocket.
“Our old stomping grounds.”
“You lead the way.” I motion toward the front door.
We step outside, and she pulls her keys out of her purse to lock up.
I hit the button on the fob, and the Ferrari beeps.
Dahlia’s eyes go wide. “Can I drive it?”
“Go ahead.” I toss the key fob in the air.
She nearly misses it before diving at the last second to grab it. “Seriously?”
I open the driver’s door for her. “Sure. It’s a rental.”
Dahlia adjusts the seat to her height.
“Let’s not get into any accidents today, though.” I hop into the passenger seat and buckle my seat belt.
She tosses on a pair of sunglasses, realigns the rearview mirror, and takes off down the road, making the tires squeal and my heart lurch in the process.
“Is it as good as you remember?” Dahlia asks.
I take another sip of my iced coffee. “Not bad.”
“Not bad? It’s the best!” She grabs my straw and takes a sip. “That’s delicious, and I refuse to accept any other answer.”
“Nostalgia is making you think that.” I wrap my arm around her and tug her against my side as I stare up at the Hoover Tower. “It seemed so much larger when we were freshmen.”
She laughs. “Everything about this campus seemed so big and scary.”
“I was convinced you were going to transfer back to a local college with how homesick you got during the first year.”
“I only survived because of you.”
“We helped each other as freshmen, but you made it through the other three years on your own.”
She lifts a shoulder. “San Francisco warmed up to me eventually.”
“Speaking of San Francisco, where do you want to go next?”
“I remember someone mentioning shopping?”
I tug my wallet from my pocket and pull out my black card. “Buy whatever you want for tonight.”
“I was going to use a dress I already had…” She plucks the card from my fingers. “But if you insist!”
Warmth spreads through my chest like an inferno, consuming me.
Funny how I spent ten years searching for someone to make me feel a fraction of the way Dahlia did, only to end up here, hoping I get to spend the rest of my days with her.
Despite footing the expensive boutique bill, Dahlia doesn’t let me sneak a peek at her dress until it’s time to head out for the event.
Her heels click against the stairs, but I don’t turn until she stops at the landing.
My vision tunnels until I only see her. “Preciosa.”
From her perfectly styled hair and makeup to her silk dress, Dahlia looks like a billion dollars. She does a little spin, and the fabric of her dress flutters around her, changing colors with the light.
“Remember that when you get your credit card statement at the end of the month.”
I grab her hand and give her another twirl, earning the best laugh. “Who’s the designer?”
“Why are you asking?”
“I want to buy one in every color, not complain about the cost.” I hold out my elbow for her to take. “Are you sure you want to go to this?”
“Yeah.” She locks her arm with mine, and we head toward the door.
“Just checking.” I help her into the passenger’s seat of the Ferrari before sliding behind the wheel.
“Will you play some music?”
“Are we feeling like the Stressed and Depressed playlist or the Fuck Love Songs playlist?”
“Definitely the latter.”
I take off toward the Creswells’ mansion with rap music pouring out of the speakers. Their property is in the nicest part of town, where the land costs almost as much as the people’s souls who live there.
The valet team rushes to open our doors and help Dahlia out of the car. When I reach for her arm, she trembles.
“Still sure you want to do this?” I ask again.
A visible change happens as she rolls her shoulders back and holds her chin high. “Yes, I’m sure.”
I steal a kiss before she shoves me away with a laugh and complains about her lipstick. “I’m here for you.”
“Can you promise me one thing?” She holds up her index finger.
“What?”
“When you see Oliver, please don’t punch him.”
“Should I give you the honors?”
“No. One night with you in a jail cell was enough to last me a lifetime.”
I lift her hand to my mouth and kiss it. “I promise not to punch him.”
No matter how much I want to.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Dahlia
“Dahlia!” One of the crew members, Reina, calls my name, and I turn to find her, Hannah, and Arthur all waving at me.
“Who are they?” Julian’s tux brushes against my back as he whispers in my ear.
“They’re part of the behind-the-scenes crew.”
“Do we like them?” His emphasis on the word we has my body tingling.
“Yes, we like them a lot.” Although I haven’t been a very good friend to them for the last six months. They tried, but it was easier for me to get a grip on my depression by cutting myself off from the life I had.
I tug on Julian’s hand and lead him toward the old crew, where I’m quickly pulled away from him and into a group hug.
“We’ve missed you!” Hannah, my makeup artist with purple highlights and a tongue ring, squeals before Reina, a real-life Malibu Barbie, pulls me into a second embrace. “You haven’t answered many of our texts.”
I blush. “I was…”
“Listening to country music?” Hannah’s knowing eyes catch mine.
“Exactly.”
“We get it. Boys suck.” Arthur, the show’s hairstylist, assesses my split ends. “You’re due for a trim.”
“I’m heading out tomorrow, or else I’d ask if you have time.”
“We can stay for another few days if you want,” Julian offers.
“And who is this handsome lad?” Arthur checks him out.
I don’t blame him for being starstruck since I had the same reaction earlier when Julian stepped out of my guest bedroom wearing a custom tux.
“I’m her boyfriend, Julian.” He holds out his hand, but Arthur bats it away and wraps his arms around him.
“Did you hear that?” He turns Julian around and shows him off like an auctioneer. “Dahlia has a boyfriend!”
“Would you like a microphone so everyone else at the party can know Dahlia has a boyfriend?” Hannah asks.
“Boyfriend?”
The hairs on my arms rise as I turn on my heels to find Oliver standing slack-jawed with a drink in his hand and a shiny wedding band on his left ring finger. Once upon a time, I thought he was handsome, but now I’m revolted by his presence.