I nearly laughed. How many other women had fallen for that with the flash of his seductive grin?
That was it. This was done. And, I realized, it had to happen this way. When it came to David Dylan, an explosive fight culminating in an ultimatum I couldn’t accept was the only way to finally end this.
22
Gretchen sat at a pink lacquer vanity table in her otherwise unremarkable bedroom. Empty white walls. Metal bedframe. A straw hamper in one corner. As she did her makeup, I tapped my foot and flipped through an old issue ofUS Weekly, but I didn’t register anything on the glossy pages.
I hadn’t heard from Bill. But would I, even if Cooper had said something to make him suspicious of David? Bill and I had an understanding. We knew when to communicate and when to sweep things under the rug and move on.
Not that there was anything to sweep anyway. Nothing had happened with David.
All that mattered at the moment was that my event started soon. “I need to get back so I can finish setting up,” I said to Gretchen, tossing the magazine on her white paisley bedspread.
“Nope.” Gretchen shook her head. “I’ve put on hundreds of events, Liv. There comes a point where tinkering with small details can make things worse.”
“But if my boss arrives and everything isn’t—”
“Everythingwill notbe perfect. I promise you.” She arched an eyebrow at me. LED bulbs lit up Gretchen’s smooth, freshly scrubbed skin, illuminating her slight rosacea and the little red bumps that would disappear in moments with a fresh coat of foundation. “You have to let go of the things you can’t control and know you did your best. People will pick up on your stress, but if you let loose and have fun, they will, too.” Her mouth quirked into a smile. “And if anything gets fucked up, blame it on the event coordinator. That’s what they’re there for.”
Gretchen had lured me to her place with the promise of a closet full of designer wear. What her bedroom lacked, she made up for with sample sales, eBay finds, designer gifts, and Rent the Runway. It hadn’t been that difficult for her to convince me to come over, though. Once the sun had gone down, I hadn’t wanted to be alone at my apartment.
“That dress looks amazing on you, but it would look even better with your hair up,” Gretchen said, holding out a tin of bobby pins. “Show off your shoulders.”
I took the box and glanced at myself in her full-length mirror, smoothing a palm over the short, sleeveless leather dress she’d lent me.
I stuck a few bobby pins between my teeth and twisted my hair into a bun as Gretchen used her concealer wand to make two triangles under her eyes. “How was your week?” she asked, blending the concealer with a sponge.
“Good,” I said automatically.
Except, it hadn’t been goodat all.
The death of a close friend, a harrowing assault, a trip to the police station, and a blow-out fight with the most infuriating, persistent, and handsome man I’d ever met.
David’s accusation rang through my head.
“I’m sick and tired of this ‘fine’ bullshit.”
So far, I’d avoided thinking about all the unwelcome, impudent—and possibly accurate—things David had said by keeping busy with tonight’s event.
“What was so good about it?” Gretchen asked.
Filling her in on all of it would only bring down the mood—and invite questions I wasn’t sure how to answer.
I focused on pinning my hair into place. “I’ll get into it later.”
She narrowed her eyes on me as she swiped a makeup brush over the contour palette in her hand. “Well, my week actuallywasgood,” she said, expertly transforming her face. “Our biggest client called me ‘talented’ in front of my boss—you know what a witch she can be. Then a headhunter contacted me today. I’m seriously considering leaving, I mean . . .”
I nodded, but my thoughts wandered. David knew what tonight meant to me. What if he didn’t show? I’d convinced Beman to let me throw this event. It had to go smoothly.Seamlessly. That included an appearance by Beman’s favorite bachelor.
“And, to top it all off,” Gretchen continued, “you’ll never guess who I hooked up with while you guys were at Andrew’s cabin. One of thehottestguys in Chicago.”
I swallowed, smoothing the top of my hair to ensure every piece complied. Nobody could compare to David. I envied the carefree way Gretchen shared her life. The fact that she put herself out there, had fun, and didn’t have to answer to anyone.
It was childish, but if I let myself remember my kiss with David without any guilt, I’d feel just as giddy as she was now. And telling her what’d I’d done wouldblowher mind.
“Liv?” she asked, frowning at me in the reflection. “You look like someone just ran over your dog.”
“Oh.” I attempted a smile. “Sorry. Who was it?”
