“Breathe,” he whispers against my neck, voice amused.
I try to follow his orders as we step into the penthouse and look around at the group of people beaming at me and clapping. Gemma and Chase are by the kitchen counter, where a massive platter of cupcakes rests, each bearing a candle. Lila and her new boyfriend-of-the-minute are leaning against the pool table, which has a bright red balloon tethered to each pocket. Shelby and a handsome man I don’t recognize (who I assume is her husband Paul) are by the bookshelves in the corner, which have been strung end-to-end with streamers. Chrissy and Mark (Gemma’s other married friends) are hanging by the sectional, trying to keep the adorable towheaded toddler at their feet from shoving confetti up his nose.
Every single one of them is grinning at me. And every single one of them is wearing one of those ridiculous conical party hats and blowing into a paper horn.
“Happy birthday, Phoebe!” Gemma says, grabbing me in a tight hug as soon as we step inside. “I know you said you didn’t want a party, but I couldn’t help myself. I hope you aren’t mad.”
“Mad?” I say, laughing as I embrace her. “No. This is…” I swallow so I don’t start getting teary. “This is perfect.”
“Told you so,” Gemma says to Chase smugly. “I’m always right. Just in case you forgot.”
He shakes his head. “Sunshine. Keep gloating. See what happens.”
They trade a glance so heated, it’s a wonder the room doesn’t catch fire around them.
I hear Lila’s voice only seconds before her body slams into mine in a full-on bear hug.
“Twenty-four! You old hag!” Her arms wrap around my frame, squeezing tightly.
“Technically not until tomorrow,” I point out, returning her hug.
“The way things have been going lately, you could be dead by tomorrow,” she says lightly. “We’d better celebrate now.”
I roll my eyes and push her away with a playful shove. I’ve barely turned when Shelby appears, snapping a glittery party hat around my head before I can protest.
“If I’m wearing one of these things, you damn well are too,” she says, slinging an arm around my shoulders in a half hug. “Plus, it’ll distract from that impressive shiner you’ve got.”
My nose wrinkles as I feel the elastic dig into my chin. “It’s my birthday. Doesn’t that mean I’m not required to wear the funny hat if I don’t want to?”
“Technically, your birthday isn’t till tomorrow,” Lila reminds me, grinning. “Which means birthday requests are not yet valid. Try again.”
Gemma plants her hands on her hips. “You have to wear the hat. It says birthday girl in silver glitter.”
“Resistance is futile,” Chase mutters under his breath, his green eyes catching mine. “Just go with it.”
I sigh in resignation and, without thinking, lean back into Nate’s chest for moral support. His arms slide around me immediately, palms flat against my stomach so I’m pressed tight against him.
Everyone in the penthouse goes completely still, wide eyes locked on us. Conversations fall silent. Even the music drifting through the overhead speakers seems to dim as every one of my senses hones in on the feeling of his hands on me, in a casual and unmistakably couple-like show of affection.
I hold my breath, waiting for Nate to realize we’ve become a spectacle and push me away. We aren’t exactly public knowledge yet and, even if we were… he doesn’t strike me as the PDA type.
To my surprise, he doesn’t even seem to notice the eyes on us. Or, if he does, he doesn’t care.
His head comes down so his lips are at my neck and his voice is soft when he whispers into my ear.
“I’m gonna grab a drink, little bird. You want something?” His breath is warm against my skin, sending goosebumps skittering down my nerve-endings. “Beer? Seltzer? Old Fashioned?”