Josh is in a jet-black suit with a deep purple tie. Cufflinks, and brogues, and hair styled to perfection.
I could maintain that the restaurant doesn’t need dressing up for, because it doesn’t, but that isn’t at the heart of my choices, and Josh knows it. He’s visibly disappointed when he clocks my muted catflicks. I’ve even toned my makeup down.
“Sorry,” I say, but he shrugs it off.
“You’ve got nothing to apologise for, baby. You can present yourself however you want to, always. That will never be in question.” He pauses. “My disappointment is because I don’t believe that youarepresenting yourself how you want to. But fear is fine. Understandable. If you need to tone yourself down a bit, you do. You’re the judge of that, not me.”
In a heartbeat, the truth becomes so clear to me. It’s almost painful.
I’m going out for my first meal in months tonight, on a date with my gorgeous boyfriend, and I looked more flamboyant going to the supermarket yesterday. At least I had full blown catflicks on then.
This isn’t what I want. Not at all. I want to be out there with Josh, strong and happy and flamboyant at his side, just like I always was.
“Wait. Just a few minutes,” I say to him, and dash back to the bedroom.
Fuck this shit. I ditch my jeans and tug my cami top over my head, then scout through my wardrobe on a mission. I take out a floor length deep purple slip dress, in glorious thick satin. I know it will be a match made in heaven with the purple of Josh’s tie and hair streak.
I feel so much better from the very moment I have it on.
With that, I extend my catflicks and darken my pale heather lipstick with a bold shade of plum. A whole different, sexy ballgame.
I do a fresh spin in the mirror before I leave the bedroom.
Me.
It’s myself I see staring back at me.
And it’s Josh’s smile at seeing his girlfriend for real that greets me when I step back into the hallway.
“You look incredible,” Josh says, and my smile is all for real right back when I put on my stilettos and take his arm.
“Wouldn’t want to be a shrinking violet next to such a bright violet star, would I?”
“You can pull off a shrinking violet very well. Under the right circumstances.”
I give him a wink.
“I do have a liking for some of those circumstances, and you know it.”
The image ofDaddy, one of my favourite ever clients, pops into my head. I miss being a shrinking violet for him, that’s for sure. I miss being a shrinking violet at the mercy of a whole host of my clients, actually. And occasionally by Josh.
He can make me a very happy shrinking violet when he’s in the mood for it.
Maybe I’ll have a go when we get home later.
“We haven’t got far to walk,” my boyfriend says en route. “It’s the closest restaurant around. Good reviews, though. I didn’t go for skanky.”
“I know.” I grin. “You never would.”
I shove aside the nerves as we walk to our destination, just a few streets away. I focus on the feeling of Josh’s hand in mine, and keep my breaths steady, determined that Connor’s bullshit is not going to overshadow this night for us.
We cross paths with a few passersby, and we get a glance or two, but no wide eyes or pointy fingers, or phone cameras aimed in our direction. It’s… nothing, really. Just randoms acknowledging a strange goth looking couple walking along the street. And it eases me. Every lack of reaction eases me.
Thank you for being such a fame-crazy cunt, Connor.
Josh opens the door for me at Cucina della Nonna, and it’s clear it’s a nice place. Candlelit and elegant, with red and white check tablecloths. I’m sure I’m going to enjoy it here, regardless of the bundle of nerves in my stomach.
“It’ll be fine, trust me,” Josh whispers as we wait for the maître d’ to show us to our table.
