There were times in the passed two weeks where I wish I had made a different choice, had opted to meet him in person. But the gala is only a few days away now. And our face-to-face looms ever closer.
“Well, at the very least, we found you a dress.”
My brows stitch together and then my chin drops to trail my gaze down my body. “This one?”
“Mhm. It’s the first—nayonly—dress you’ve shown me in—” she flicks her wrist so her watch lights up “—three hours.”
Shit, time flies when you’re trying on dress after dress after hopeless dress.
“You don’t think it’s too—” Lo’s hand held up has me pulling me teeth between my lips.
“We already went over the dip in the back. It’s not so low that it’s inappropriate for a work function. And it hugs your curves beautifully. You’ll make this E.J. drool in seconds. At least, if he has half a brain.”
“I was going to say, too sparkly.”
Her eye roll is so heavy and dramatic I feel ready to hand her this years Oscar for best actress. “Is there such a thing astoo muchwhen it comes to glitz?”
“Over the age of seven?” I glance down at the dress again. It’s not that it’s a lot of glitz. It’s a stunning dress. But is it right for me?
Pinching the bridge of her nose, Logan drops her head and mumbles something under her breath in the Yiddish her grandmother used to be speak around her house growing up. Then she calmly presses her palms together. “Biannca, my love, it’s a fashion statement. Evening gowns are meant to be. The ideaisto stand out. I know that might make you uncomfortable, but you won’t be the only one in a gown such as this. Please, just trust me. Have I ever lead you wrong?”
She has point there. In all the years we’ve been friends, Logan has been my strongest defender, my best friend, my sister, and a million other things. But never once has she lead me astray, in fashion, relationships, or just general life advice.
And knowing me as well as she does, she sees the moment I accept that this is the dress, planting her hands on my shoulders and spinning me back toward the dressing room. “Lovely, now go change. I’m starving.” A firm pat on my butt is my parting gift as I cross to the fitting room.
Once out of the room, back in my jeans and t-shirt, Logan takes the dress from arms and marches toward the front to check out. We had a heated argument on our way here and throughout the first hour about her paying. But since she practically kidnapped me to bring to this specific dress store that’s leagues out of my budget, I gave in to her demands. I also learned a long time ago it was easier that way. And who am I to say no to a gorgeous evening gown that I don’t have to pay a penny for.
I pull my phone from my purse and gnaw on my lower lip. E.J’s message is waiting for an answer.
Biannca:Sorry. Is that a bad thing? I take it that means you’ve enjoyed it so far.
E.J.:We are no longer on speaking terms. You betrayed my trust as a reader. Everyone knows it’sa cruel joke to get someone invested in an unfinished series.
Dread pools in my stomach and the blood slowly drains from my face. Is he calling this off? Maybe I can stop Logan from finalizing the purchase and just…not go. Feign illness.
E.J.:I will of course still escort you to your event. And even make pleasantries with you. But know, deep below it all, I’m holding a grudge.
My lips pull up in smile and everything in my chest flutters. Whatever this is, I want more of it.
Chapter 6
Ethan
Three weeks. It’s been three weeks since Biannca picked me on the dating app and we started talking. Three weeks of getting to know each other. And three weeks of trying to convince myself that I’m not being a complete idiot for keeping my true identity a secret.
That last one isn’t going so well.
A lot has changed in that time. It’s almost like I canfeelthe wall that Biannca slowly brought down through our messages.
I’ve also grown a pair and started talking to her more at work. Small things, nothing too in depth, but enough to try to maybe bridge some sort of gap when all is revealed tonight.
Nerves have completely taken over. Not only am I checking my phone ever thirty seconds to make sure she hasn’t changed her mind, but I can’t stop moving around my apartment.
The damn thing is cleaner than it’s been in…ever probably. I even dusted the baseboards and top of the refrigerator.
And the nervous energy rolling through me in vicious currents has me dressed and ready to go by 4:15. The gala doesn’t start until 6:00. I only live about twenty minutes from the library, so I have a lot of time to kill while already dressed.
Nothing on television captures my attention. There’s no chance in hell I’m calling my mother or sister and starting in on a conversation with them, even though they’ve each called twice today. I’d like to be in agoodmood when I see Biannca.
