“Maria,” he growls.
“I love you both,” she whispers.
My eyes widen at the declaration and I know this must be big, because everyone in the room is completely silent and watching them together as well. He releases her and takes a step back.
“You don’t. But?” he demands.
“But it’s not working. It’s simply just not working.”
“For who?” he growls.
She sniffles and I know that she must be crying. “For all of us. But mostly for you and Gator.”
The conversation doesn’t continue. She takes one step toward him, then another before she runs past him. He doesn’t move, he stands frozen in the middle of the room, all of our gazes still focused on him.
He clears his throat, then I watch as he walks in the opposite direction of where she ran out and heads toward the bedrooms.
“Someone better call Gator, that don’t look too good,” a man’s voice booms. He’s older, he has some graying, but he’s still really handsome.
“No shit, Hawk,” Pinkie grunts. “Already texted him. He’s on his way. Says she packed her shit already.”
“Fuck,” Hawk hisses. “Never a dull moment, drama up the goddamn ass around here all the fuckin’ time.”
My eyes widen and I press my lips together, knowing that I’m part of all that drama. His gaze cuts to me and I expect him to give me a dirty look, but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips curve up into a grin and he smiles at me. His face is kind of soft and I don’t understand it at all.
“You doin’ good?” he asks, his voice smooth.
Nodding, I don’t release my lips to speak, I’m too scared to say a damn word to any of these people. He chuckles as if he can read my mind. Then, he opens his mouth to say something when I hear a woman shout his name. His lips don’t just curve, they move into a huge smile before he whips his head to the side.
I turn my head to look at the woman who is standing at the doorway. She’s gorgeous. Not just beautiful, she is stunning. She’s dressed much like me in shorts and a tank, but I can tell they’re way better quality than my super cheap clothes.
I don’t notice the woman behind her, but when she steps to the side, I see her. She’s pregnant, newly, but you can still see her small round bump in front of her. They’re each carrying shopping bags as they walk closer toward the bar and Hawk.
“You have a good day, babe?” he asks as the gorgeous woman slides her arm around his shoulder and touches her lips to his temple.
She looks about thirty years his junior and I wonder if she’s his daughter when he wraps his arm around her and cups her breast. I blink, hoping that she isn’t his daughter. Although, in my world, a move like that would not mean a damn thing between father and daughter.
“We did, got the baby some sweet little things.”
“Get me anything sweet in those bags?” he asks on a chuckle.
She hums, then leans forward and whispers something in his ear. I notice the way his gaze darkens and I assume that she did exactly as he asked, got him some sweet things.
He clears his throat, adjusting in his seat before he drags her across his lap. She lets out a giggle and watching them behave so freely has me wondering if everyone in this club is so openly happy. The other woman is watching me, and I tear my gaze from Hawk and the other woman to look at her.
“I’m Trista,” she offers with a smile.
“Pamela,” I whisper.
She nods. “You’re Jag’s woman?”
My eyes widen and I press my lips together, shaking my head. “No. He helped me, but I’m not his Old Lady.”
She studies me for a moment, then her lips curl up into a grin. “Okay,” she says, drawing out the word. “It’s your birthday today, right?”
Nodding, I swallow the thick knot in my throat. I have been dreading this birthday for my entire life. I had been avoiding the fact that today was my birthday, even to myself, pretending that it could pass without anyone ever being the wiser.
“Yeah,” I say.
“Party tonight to celebrate. We’re going to have fun. Dinner will be here soon, I hope you don’t mind we just ordered some finger foods, nothing fancy.”
Lifting my gaze to meet hers, I know that my eyes are wide and I’m probably staring at her in shock, because I am completely shocked at what she’s saying.
“A party?”
“Don’t get excited, the guys here will find any excuse to party. Your birthday just gave them another reason, but all of the Old Ladies are coming tonight. They want to meet you,” the gorgeous woman announces. “I’m Avah, by the way.”
“Pamela,” I say, introducing myself again.
“Pretty,” she says with a wide, happy grin.
I can feel my face heat and look down at my glass as I continue to dry it. “I really don’t need a party, not at all,” I say, my voice softer than normal.
The fact is that I’ve never had a party. There has never been a cake, presents, food. My birthday just meant that I was one year closer to eighteen, and that was all that mattered. A hand wraps around my wrist and I lift my head, my gaze shifting up the arm of the woman holding me. I expected Trista or Avah, but it’s Pinkie.
“You ever had one, honey?” she asks, her gaze is almost dark and I don’t quite understand it.
Tears fill my eyes and I hate it. I hate myself for being so damn weak and emotional. I shouldn’t care, it doesn’t matter. I can’t have missed what I’ve never had. I shake my head before I realize what I’m doing.
“No,” I whisper. The women all gasp, but Pinkie hisses. Hawk grunts, but I ignore them all. “Honestly, it doesn’t matter. They aren’t really celebrated, at least not the way you see
