Page 16 of Calling You Out: Part Two
Harry: Please, Molly, I need my friend back. Just let me talk to you.
Harry: Even if you don't say anything, I just want to talk.
Harry: Molly? Are you there?
Dom
Apastel dress code with baby pink tablecloths, balloons, and giant mobiles hanging from the ceiling wasn't my ideal choice for a party, but I was out to support my friend. And seeing Cat furiously tracking Mallory Fischer as she swanned around the grand hotel ballroom, remaining the centre of attention while Cat was stuck in a chair was particularly fun.
“I’m sure there are much better ways to piss your mum off than sitting by the wall and glaring at her.” I shot my other best friend a smile, which she returned with a charming glower.
I leaned against the wall next to her, arms folded, a drink in one hand.
“None that don't have me running to the toilet every two minutes.” She scowled. “I didn’t ask for a baby shower. It’s my second child, for fuck’s sake. I’m not even giving birth for another two months. She just had space on her calendar and…” Cat wrinkled her nose as she looked around the room at the waves of baby colours, each table set with fluffy ducks, tiny blue elephants, buttercream cupcakes, and roses. “This is even worse than last time. Thank God I managed to convince her off the gender reveal. If I had to drag my ass to Sea World just to watch dolphins with coloured bows synchronise swim again, I'd go off on tour with Max and give birth in whatever city is farthest away from her.” She gritted her teeth as Mallory threw back her head and laughed loudly, clutching her Harry's bicep, who was carefully hiding the fact that he hated every moment of it.
Cat shook her head, her chestnut bun bouncing on her neck. “Honestly. Anything to get one up on the Deveroux’s.”
“At least there’s no reporters,” I offered.
“True, but I can see at least two photographers sneaking around. I’m sure some shots will end up in a magazine or two, and she’ll claim innocence.”
One said photographer was closing in on Mallory, who shifted to wrap her other arm around Harry’s shoulders, pinning him in place. She nodded politely at Harry's dad who stood next to her like a good husband and looked as uncomfortable as Cat.
I wanted to go over there and bat her away so I could hold Harry myself.
Harry sighed, relaxing into Mallory’s grip, but he should have been doing that for me. His smile looked genuine, though pastel green really wasn’t his colour. Anyone could tell Mallory had dressed him again. His V-neck shirt was buttoned down to show the slightest wisp of chest hair that was driving me insane. His stylist brushed his hair back, trimmed his beard short, and put him in casual beige slacks that showed off his soft curves. Curves that I had been holding only threenights ago.
I couldn’t stop picturing how it could have gone if I had pushed him to let me go further.
He’d fit against my chest so perfectly. I could still feel the imprint of him against my body, and the thickness of his cock in my hand. My eyes shuttered closed as a wave of lust hit me. Those moments, where he moaned under my touch, where he opened himself up to me. There were so many ways I could have shown him how I felt and found out if I had a chance. All I had to do was get him to a place where he’d let go and I could have—
Need shuddered through me, and my eyes snapped open. I jumped as I met Harry’s piercing gaze. He was in the centre of the room, too far to even hear him if he called me.
Time bent and twisted around us, and my hand clenched against my thigh, heart thumping too slowly and loudly in my ears. It was only a second, but enough to fill me as he glanced away and I lost him.
I was about to run over, pull him away from Mallory, and force him to tell me he wanted me, but high heels clicked to a stop next to us.
“This is ridiculous!” Jasmine Fischer cut through my horny thoughts. She stood to our right, a thin hand on her hip, the other sporting a flute of champagne. Clad in a sparkling pink dress that looked more like a cape, her naturally silver hair tumbling down her back. She was an identical copy of her mum, though she despised anyone pointing it out.
Jasmine raised her brows, narrowing her eyes at Mallory before turning on us.
“She’ll literally do anything, won't she?” She scowled, her violet eyes thinning before she took a drink, and Cat watched the glass longingly.
“It’s just not the same when I can’t get drunk,” she answered.
“Oh, Catherine,” Jazz tutted. “How pregnancy has changed you. Last time I remember, you were the one having a go at me for getting sloshed and trying to do cabaret at Kieran's birthday party.”
There was never a dull moment when the Fischers were involved.
“Did you hear her say we’re playing pin the tail on the donkey?” Jazz scoffed. “Except the tails are Cartier diamond bracelets, and the donkey is a freaking Arabian racehorse! And I can’t even with the—”
“Oh. My. God!” A screech pierced through air, and all three of us were suddenly drowned in vanilla spice as the tiny machine that was Bunny Collins launched herself at Jasmine, grappling her into a hug. “Jazzy!”
“Oh my God!” Jazz screamed in reply, balancing her champagne while deafening everyone in a ten-mile radius as she wrapped her arms around her best friend. We were completely forgotten as they both wiggled and hopped up and down in front of us.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Cat hissed as their screaming reached over 100 decibels.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! It’s so good to see you!” Bunny pulled back, keeping Jazz’s hands gripped in hers.
