My phone buzzes on the dresser, like it’s been waiting for this exact moment.
PR:Car service scheduled for 6:45. Cameras on arrival. Fifteen-minute window. Will follow up with dinner details momentarily.
I don’t react.
I definitely don’t feel my stomach tighten.
Nancy glances up. “That’s the face you make when you’re about to say everything’s fine and then reorganize a pantry.”
“Everythingisfine,” I say. “This is an assignment. A public-facing charity engagement.”
Paige grins. “You’re going on a date.”
“I’m absolutely not.”
Nancy sets her glass down and points at me. “You’re going to dinner with an attractive man you chose.”
“For professional reasons.”
“You didn’t choose the most professional option,” Nancy says mildly.
I pause.
Paige’s eyes light up. “Oh my God. She’s right.”
“She’s not,” I say.
“Mason would’ve been easier,” Nancy continues, unbothered. “So would Gregory. Predictable. On-script. Safe.”
“I chose Colby because he was appropriate.”
Paige snorts. “You chose Colby because you liked him the best.”
“That’s not…”
“He didn’t sell himself,” Paige says. “He didn’t flirt. He didn’t posture.”
Nancy nods. “He was intriguing and that's hot.”
I open my mouth to argue and realize I don’t actually have a rebuttal.
“I chose him because he respected the format,” I say instead.
“And now you’re standing in your bedroom debating whether to wear Meeting Black or Something With a Neckline,” Paige says.
I look down at what I’m holding.
It is, objectively, Meeting Black.
I sigh and swap it for something softer. Still appropriate. Still composed. But not armor.
“There,” I say. “Compromise.” Pink V-neck sweater. Black pants. Soft enough to feel human, structured enough to feel competent.
Paige claps. “V-necks mean you’re open,” she announces. “She’s doing a tiny bit a date, everyone!”
“It’s not a date,” I say out loud.
Inside, my brain quietly amends that statement.
