He glanced over my head at the clock. “It’s only noon.”
Right. Because he came in later, after the rest of the staff, when the bulk of the prep work was done.
“I have to be there by one,” I reminded him.
Reluctantly, it seemed, he released me. “Then I will take you.”
“Um. I don’t think we should go in together. I don’t want everybody thinking I’m one of your...”
He raised an eyebrow. “One of my...” Definitely a question this time.
Well, shoot. In all fairness, he didn’t have a reputation for shagging the staff—no more than I made a habit of inviting men up to my apartment. But I didn’t want him to think I was angling to turn our hookup into, well, anything else.
“I don’t want to put you in an awkward position,” I mumbled, my gaze anchored to his chest.
“Jo.” His voice was patient. “People will see what they want to see. Whether we walk in together or not.”
“But they’ll talk.”
“Let them. If I walk down the sidewalk wearing a hoodie, to some eyes I look like a thug. But that’s on them. I don’t have to be limited by their vision. Who I am, what I choose to wear or do... That’s on me, yeah? I am myself, whatever they choose to see.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“You think so,” he said without inflection.
Oh God. Had I actually just told him that it waseasyfor him to be himself when other people—strangers, customers, cops—judged him by his appearance?
My face flamed. “I only meant... You’reChef.”
“Eric. And you... You are yourself.” I looked up. He met my gaze. The curve of his mouth almost undid me. “Jo.”
I smiled back uneasily. Because I hadn’t been myself with him. Not completely.
It was okay to hide the whole blogger thing when he was simply my boss, I rationalized. I mean, I didn’t know everything there was to know about him, either. But now... How much of the truth did I owe him now?
What did I owe myself?
CHAPTER 10
Meg
Even though I was gone from the twins all day, I showered and blow-dried my hair when I got home. Shaved my legs. Shaved everywhere, my heart quickening in anticipation. As if I had all the time in the world. As if I were single and childless again, getting ready for a big date instead of going to a Christmas party at Sallie’s.
I’d always liked dressing up, doing my hair and nails and makeup. Unlike Jo, who considered most feminine rituals with scowling suspicion. When we were younger, I practically had to drag her to prom.
The whole concept of prom is an outdated fantasy,” Jo had declared as we got ready in my room. Beth and Amy curled against the pillows, watching me primp, taking pictures, while Jo sprawled across the foot of the bed, her nose in a book, as usual. I glanced at the cover.The Second Sexby Simone Somebody. “Part of an archaic culture that perpetuates normative gender roles,” Jo continued loftily.
I plugged in my flat iron, determined that tonight my hair would achieve the glossy smoothness of a model inEllemagazine. “If you’reexpecting me to make a snappy comeback, you’re going to have to speak English.”
Jo flopped onto her stomach, wrinkling her dress. “I mean, it’s stupid. All that fuss, waiting for some boy to ask you out. I don’t need a date to a dance to validate my feelings of self-worth.”
“You only say that because Trey asked you weeks ago,” Amy said.
“Because we’re friends,” Jo said. “At least Trey isn’t going to get all weird on me.”
“Prom isn’t about your date. Not really,” I said. “It’s a rite of passage.”
I was going with Ned Moffat. A sort of pity date, because Sallie got tired of waiting for him to ask and accepted Charlie Campbell’s promposal instead. Trey was picking us all up in his grandfather’s town car (Mr. Laurence had hired a driver and everything), and we were all meeting up at the Gardiners’—before prom, to get our pictures taken with all our friends, and for the after-party.
