Clothes, makeup (even though you barely wear any), jewelry (even though you barely wear any of that either), shoes—it’s all taken care of.
Me
What? How? And why?
Walker
Because that’s who I am, and now that you’re with me, that’s something you’re going to have to get used to.
Me
You don’t have to spoil me, Walker. I have clothes. I have shoes. I have a necklace … somewhere, lol, if I can find it.
Walker
I’m not spoiling you. I’m giving you things, and that’s what I want to do. Like every time you use those knives, I’m on your mind, and I enjoy the thought of that. I want to see the clothes I chose on your gorgeous body. I want to see the earrings I picked out in your delicate ears. I want to see the shoes I bought on your cute little feet.
Me
I was going to fight you on this, but how can I when you word things like that?
Walker
I’m not a good loser, Alivia. I’m a much better winner. Keep that in mind before we ever go to battle.
Me
See you tomorrow at Charred.
TWENTY-THREE
Walker
“What do you think of this one?” my assistant asked.
She stood at the mouth of my living room while I was on the couch with a tablet in my hands, glancing up every time she had something to show me. This time, it was a red dress that she held in the air. The top was shaped like the remnants of a pint of ice cream after a scooper took a deep dip. The middle looked like it would fit tightly across Alivia’s torso, and there were black diagonal lines as though claws had been scratched across it.
“Not her color.”
She adjusted her thick-rimmed black glasses. “I was going for a statement piece.”
I stayed focused on her just long enough to say, “She is the statement. The dress doesn’t need to make one too,” before my gaze returned to the tablet.
“I’ll put it on the No rack, then.”
I was reading a series of emails that had come in from Hart,discussing some of the details of Toro and the changes the family wanted implemented. Some of those had to do with the menu. A conversation and situation I’d been avoiding because our business was sucking every last breath out of me.
“How about this one?” my assistant asked. “It’s the last one I pulled. I don’t have any others to show you.”
This dress was a faint blue with thin straps and a square top. Instead of it hitting the floor, like the red one, I assumed it would end above her knees. There was no pattern. The fabric was folded in a way that looked like some of the designs we did with napkins.
Simple. Elegant. A dress that wouldn’t try to outdo her and the color didn’t make me want to squint.
“I like it.”
She lifted a pair of heels. “These go with it.”
They were black, pointy, and very tall, a lift that would bring her closer to my lips.
