Page 44 of Power Play

Blowing out a breath, I grab the last chunk of hair to curl. “This sounds like so much fun.”

Maybe Vanessa, Audrey, and I can form our own little party with some of the other partners. We can hide out in the corner while the guys do their thing.

She laughs. “It’s not. But it is a night out, and you guys haven’t had very many of those.”

“None, actually.”

“See? You need this.”

“But Emmy⁠—”

“Will be fine,” she says again. “She needs to get used to being around other adults. Besides, I’ve barely gotten to spend any time with my niece with fall conditioning taking up all my time. It’ll be good for us to bond a bit.”

“If you’re sure…”

“You aren’t going to scare me off.” Cari stands, dusting off her hands. “Now come on. I want to see the dresses he picked out.”

“He picked out? Or the boutique?”

She grins. “Oh, this was all him.”

Al said not to worry about finding something to wear, but I wasn’t expecting a rack of gowns to be delivered yesterday while we were at the game. I took one look at the contents and immediately walked away, overwhelmed.

Now, as I flick through the hangers, I find myself wishing I could wear my wedding dress again. I loved the way it made me feel, the way I looked in it.

There are eight dresses on the rack, all in various jewel-toned shades. Maybe he recognized that I typically wear the color profile, or maybe it’s just coincidence. They’re all boho-chic, upscale versions of the dress I wore to the courthouse.

My hand stops on a lilac dress with a rose-gold overlay. It’s nothing like anything I would ever pick out for myself, sleeveless with a very deep V and a high slit, and a heavy material with a tulle overlay. The fabric is frilly and fussy. It looks itchy.

But when I put the hanger up to my chin, imagining myself in this dress, I know I won’t be happy until I at least try it on. It will probably be awful. It’ll be too tight, or too long, or just… not right.

I step into the dress, and to my surprise, the tulle isn’t nearly as scratchy as I thought it would be. The hem skims the floor, and when Cari passes me my heels and I slip them on, the gown is the perfect length for my five-foot-four height.

“You look gorgeous,” she says, from where she’s sitting on the bed behind me.

“I don’t know…”

“Gorgeous,” she says again.

“It’s missing something.” I wish I had a necklace, or maybe a bracelet. Something to add a little sparkle. We hired someone to pack up my apartment in Phoenix, and half my things are still in boxes. Including my jewelry and accessories.

Cari vaults off the bed, opening my door and bellowing, “Oye, pendejo!”

I jump at the loud, unexpected noise. Since most of my Spanish consists of ordering off a menu and dirty words, I know she’s calling him an asshole, and I grin at the fondness of her tone beneath the volume.

Heavy footsteps sound on the stairs as Al joins us upstairs, Emmy in his arms. He’s already wearing his tux, and if I thought I was immune to my husband, I’m quickly corrected. Al is hot. Al in a tuxedo is holy fuck hot.

“What do you want, pinche hermanita?” He stops in the doorway, his mouth going slack. His eyes widen and he swallows, hard. “Wow.”

I can’t deny his reaction sends warmth flooding through me, but it’s a bit weird for my platonic husband to be looking at me like he wants to strip me bare and eat me for dinner.

She smacks him on the arm. “Do you have the thing?”

He blinks at her. “The thing?”

“You know, the thing.” She raises her eyebrows.

“Right. Here, hold the baby.”