I managed to make it into the elevator car before digging into the bag, but there was no way in hell I could hold out until I walked into my apartment. Inside was a small box. I opened and found a beautiful anklet. Unlike the first one Jagger had sent me, this one wasn’t full of sparkling diamonds. It was small and delicate, with tiny pearls strung every half inch of the thin, shimmery gold chain. I loved it.
Underneath the box was a small envelope. I ripped it open and read the card, which I was surprised to find in Jagger’s own handwriting since he was out of town.
The beauty of a pearl is inherent in the way it grows. When a grain of sand or some other irritant infiltrates the oyster’s shell, it fights back and secretes a substance to protect itself. Over time, layers build up and form a pearl,making something beautiful out of adversity.
You’re a pearl, Sutton.
X Jagger
My hand covered my heart. The man could tell me he wasn’t sweet all he wanted. But actions spoke louder than words.
***
“Hang on. I need a picture of that one.” Miles flicked his wrist, gesturing for me to step back while we were on FaceTime Saturday evening. “Perfect. Got it.”
“I guess you like this dress?”
“No, Mrs. Gutterman’s cat keeps waiting in the hall and scaring the shit out of me when I walk in. I need something to scare him back. That frock is hideous. Remove it immediately.”
I narrowed my eyes and leaned to the camera. “A simple yes or no would have been sufficient, drama queen.”
He covered his eyes and waved his hand at the camera. “Seriously. Take it off. I’m feeling queasy looking at that pattern.”
I gave him the finger, but peeled the dress off. “I should’ve asked how fancy the place we’re going is. I have this royal blue silk two-piece set with a long skirt and halter top. It’s really pretty but dressy.”
“What time is he picking you up?”
“Seven.”
“It’s only six thirty. Ask him now.”
“Okay, yeah. I’ll do that.” I swiped to my contacts and shot off a quick text while still on FaceTime with Miles.
Sutton: Hi. What’s the name of the place we’re going? I’m trying to figure out what to wear.
The little dots started jumping around.
Jagger: Le Jardin. And I can help you with that. Open the door.
I felt my forehead wrinkle.
Sutton: What door?
Jagger: The one I’m standing in front of. Yours.
My eyes widened, and I swiped back to FaceTime. “I just asked him, and he said he’d help me pick something out because he’s at my door! But it’s only six thirty!”
“Was he joking?”
“I have no idea.” I grabbed my black silk robe and slipped it on, tying it at the waist as I rushed to the front door. Pushing up on my toes, I peeked through the peephole and gasped, then ducked down. Why did I duck? I have no damn idea. I whispered to Miles while still crouched. “Oh my God. He is here!”
“How did he get past the doorman?”
“I left his name with Nestor because the buzzer is hard to hear sometimes.”
“At least your hair and makeup are done.”
“I know but…” I rushed over to the mirror in the entryway and smoothed the mess my hair had become from trying so many outfits on. Then took a few deep breaths before opening the door.
