HAVEN
I walked out of the door and into the garden and, right away, Maya looped her arm through mine, the bright yellow silk of her gown standing out against the lilac of mine. She had her dark coils smoothed back into a low bun, a rhinestone comb slid snug up against it, and she’d added just enough makeup to her face to give herself a subtle, shimmery glow.
“I never thought I’d see the day when the wolfketeers would come to the ballet. Voluntarily. And enjoy it,” she said as we walked through the garden under the stars, winding our way through the tables laden with candles, eucalyptus and floral arrangements, and the planters filled with jasmine.
“Wait, the what?” I asked, turning to stare at her, a small laugh spilling from my lips. “Did you just call them the ‘wolfketeers’?”
She blinked for a second, then pursed her lips and shrugged. “Yeah.” “Like the musketeers?”
“Yeah. But when we were growing up, they were like a little pack of wolves, always running around the forest together, and I started calling
them that in high school, and it just kind of stuck.” She paused, and then her eyes got wide. “But you can’t say anything to Wesley about it. None of them know we call them that.”
“Scout’s honor,” I said, holding up three fingers.
We reached the bar, and Maya ordered herself a lemon drop then looked at me expectantly.
“No thanks,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m not twenty-one,” I told the bartender.
We walked over to a small high-top table to wait for Maya’s drink. “You could have ordered something. He wasn’t about to check ID for any of the dancers here.”
“It’s fine,” I said with a shrug. “I’d rather keep a clear head.”
“That’s fair. I imagine it’s difficult enough for you when you’re around Wes. I see the way you go all melty for him whenever he flashes that smile at you.”
I rolled my eyes at her as they set her drink down in front of her. “So, which guy is which musketeer?” I asked her, changing the subject.
“Oh, well, Sebastian is definitely D’Artagnan,” she said as she finished a quick sip of her drink. “Clever but foolhardy. And the youngest. And Nolan is Athos. Because of that thing with his… girlfriend.”
“What thing with his girlfriend?” I asked, bristling, defensive of this man I barely knew.
“Not his girlfriend now,” she said. “Rachel is great.” “He has a girlfriend?”
“Yes, just listen!” Maya said, smacking my arm lightly. “Before he got with Rachel, there was another girl. Kimberly. It was…”
“A bad breakup?”
“Something like that,” she said, then took another sip of her drink. “So yeah, that makes him Athos. And Reid… well, Reid is definitely Porthos,” she said with a laugh.
“That he is,” Wesley said, walking up to us and putting his arm around my waist, letting his hand rest possessively on my hip. “Woman after woman after woman… But why are we comparing Reid to a musketeer?” he asked, looking between Maya and me.
“No reason,” Maya said, stirring her drink and not meeting Wes’s eyes.
My lips twitched as I remembered how she’d left me to fend for myself when Wes showed up at our apartment a few weeks ago. I mean, it had turned out just fine in the end. But still.
“Maya was just telling me—“ “HAVEN!”
”—about how she calls you, Reid, Seb, and Nolan the ‘wolfketeers,’“ I finished, rushing the words out and then reaching for Maya’s martini, taking a sip to hide from her wrath.
Wesley rubbed my hip as he gave Maya a raised brow, and she sputtered. “I-we-you see—“
“So, Reid is Porthos. I’m guessing Nolan is Athos, Sebastian is D’Artagnan since he’s the youngest, and that makes me Aramis?” Wesley teased, holding in his laugh.
His chest twitched as he laughed silently, not letting Maya hear him and drawing out her embarrassment.
“Basically,” she squeaked, stealing her drink back from me. He nodded, rubbing his chin as if deep in thought. “I like it.”
Maya’s shoulders visibly relaxed, and she blew out a breath. “Well, I will leave you two to it,” she said, picking up her drink. “Levi will be here any
minute, and I think they will serve dessert soon, so we should probably get to our tables.”
She gave us a little wave and then made her way through the crowd back towards the entrance.
Wesley kept rubbing my hip, watching Maya thoughtfully as she walked away. Then he turned to me and said, “Should we find our seats?”
I nodded, and he gave my hip a little squeeze and then unwrapped his arm from me, taking my hand so we could find the correct table.
It wasn’t hard to find, as Ramón and Imogen were already there. Wes pulled my seat out for me, helping me scoot it in. Then he moved his so it was right next to mine, sitting in it and throwing his arm over the back of my chair, making sure we were as close as possible. His fingertips played with the chiffon fabric of the cape that extended off my right shoulder and brushed against the bare skin of my upper back, sending little tingles across my shoulder blades and down to my fingers.
“Imogen,” I said, smiling at the blonde across from me. “This is Wesley Stone. Wes, this is Imogen. She danced Princess Aurora tonight.”
“Ah, yes, the new lover Ramón mentioned.” She smirked, extending her hand to Wesley.
He leaned forward a bit, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it.
I clenched my jaw, and my nostrils flared. Seeing his lips touch her skin stoked that little fire inside me, flashing green in front of my eyes.
Which was so unlike me. To be jealous like that. And embarrassing, considering how much crap I’d given Wesley earlier about him being jealous.
Wesley chuckled when he sat back in his chair as if he could sense me stewing next to him. He rubbed my shoulder a bit as his arm settled back on
the chair and leaned into me to kiss my temple. “Now who is jealous?” “I’m not,” I insisted, trying to keep the pout off my face.
“Good, because green isn’t really your color either,” he teased, then gave me another peck on my cheek before turning towards the others at our table. “So, what did you think of the ballet, Mr. Stone?” Imogen asked, lifting
her champagne glass to her bright red lips.
“I enjoyed it thoroughly,” he said, crossing his ankle over his knee. “Although, I will admit, I don’t know much about ballet.”
“Well,” she said, smacking her lips, “it takes extensive training at the best schools from a very young age to truly make it in this world.”
I held in my eye roll. There it was. The subtle dig at my training—or lack of, in her eyes.
Wesley cocked his head to the side, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “Is that so?”
“It’s mostly accurate,” Ramón said, his eyes also landing on me. “However, sometimes raw talent can be found in unexpected places.”
“Well, of course,” Imogen said, fidgeting with her diamond earrings. “But Miss Wainwright here is the exception, not the rule.”
“Kenway,” Wesley said, a deep frown marring his handsome face, his hand behind me gripping the back of my chair. “Her last name is Kenway,” he repeated.
That petty part of me that had been jealous only minutes before became subdued and peaceful after hearing him defend me and my name. I couldn’t remember telling him I preferred Kenway even though my name had been changed, but somehow he knew. He knew me, sometimes even better than I knew myself.
I reached over and placed my hand on his thigh under the table, rubbing it just a little. “It’s okay,” I whispered.
His eyes moved down to my hand on his leg, and then he slowly blew out a breath, his eyes closing, and I imagined him counting to ten in his mind. Then his hand on the back of my chair moved to the top of my spine and started moving down to the top of my dress and back up.
“Sorry,” he grimaced, looking back at Imogen, his fingers still tracing my spine. “I just know she prefers Kenway. Her birth name.”
“I… did not know that,” Imogen said slowly, looking between Wes and me.
There was a lingering silence at the table after that, but luckily, the servers came around just then, bringing out the petite desserts—various tarts, mousses, and cakes in miniature form—and more champagne, which I declined.
Wes removed his arm from my chair and my back and moved forward to eat his dessert, starting with the lemon tart with whipped cream. I had a flashback to our dinner date, where I had so brazenly licked whipped cream off of his thumb.
I didn’t know what possessed me to be so bold because that was definitely NOT my norm, and I was definitely not that type of girl. But I couldn’t deny the little thrill that ran through me at teasing him like that.
“So, what ballet will you be performing next?” Wesley asked, bringing my attention back to the present.
“The Nutcracker will be next,” I told him, and he brightened.
“Really?” I nodded. “Will you be dancing the Sugar Plum Fairy?” I shook my head at him with a smile on my lips.
“That’s a principal’s role,” Imogen snapped from her seat. “Haven is dancing Snow Queen this year.”
“Oh,” Wesley said, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “I just know that’s Haven’s favorite ballet, the one that inspired her to start dancing. It would be something to see her in that role,” he explained.
“Maybe another year,” Ramón said with a wink. “I’ll be waiting.” Wesley laughed.
I just stared at him from my seat, my desserts forgotten. He kept surprising me with the little things he remembered. The tiny details that others would overlook. The things that defined me.
My eyes got glassy, and I looked down at my plate, feeling his eyes on me. Blinking back the tears threatening to fall, I took a bite of the tiny cheesecake, then turned to meet Wesley’s eyes.
“Will this be the first time you get to dance in The Nutcracker?” he asked.
A little smile broke through my lips, and I shook my head. “No, I’ve danced in it several times. I actually got to dance Clara one year,” I said.
“That’s amazing!” Wesley beamed as if my accomplishment was his, too. “But did they do the version where Clara is also the Sugar Plum Fairy? Because I didn’t like that choice. It didn’t make any sense. She’s supposed to be a kid. Why would she also be the Sugar Plum Fairy and fall in love with the Nutcracker? It was weird and—“
He pursed his lips, furrowed his brow, and cut himself off from his rambling.
Ramón laughed, however, and said, “Don’t worry, Wesley, most companies don’t do that version. They usually stick to the traditional story, where the Sugar Plum Fairy and Clara are separate characters.”
“Oh. Good,” Wesley said with a curt nod.
The night was winding down when the apprentice who was running the silent auction approached Wesley and whispered to him. His lips twitched in triumph as he listened to her.
“Thank you,” he muttered.
Then he turned to me and stood, offering his hand to me. “Come on,” he said, beckoning me with his chin.
I stood with him, clasping my hand with his, holding myself close to his arm as he maneuvered us through the party towards the auction table. He stopped in front of an item, a rose gold charm bracelet with three charms already on it—ballet slippers, a tutu, and a star—and room for plenty more to be added.
I stood silently as he filled out the paperwork for it and averted my eyes when he pulled his wallet out. I did not want to know how much he had just dropped on a piece of jewelry.
I turned my gaze back towards him when I felt his fingertips on my wrist and the cool metal against my skin. It again struck me how gentle he could be with his large hands as he clasped the bracelet on my wrist. I giggled as he turned my arm at different angles, examining the look and fit of the bracelet.
“Now you have something to put in your music box,” he said with a grin. “It’s beautiful.” I smiled, then stepped into him, leaning up on my toes to
kiss him, letting it linger for a moment. “Thanks, Pal.”
