“That is not just a dress. That is a—” She let out a low whistle, eyes moving from me to the sleek black car idling at the curb. “And that is not just a ride. Girl. What is happening right now?”
Meatball let out a low bark, like he sensed I was abandoning him for the evening.
“Don’t even start,” I told the dog, pointing a warning finger at him. “We’re still not that close yet.”
“He doesn’t think so,” Candy grinned. “Have fun. Try not to do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“What wouldn’t you do?”
The car door opened. Jack stepped out.
Candy’s eyes went wide. Her mouth formed a small O.
She looked at Jack—all six-plus feet of him in that perfectly tailored tuxedo—then back at me, then back at Jack, like she was watching a tennis match she couldn’t quite believe was real.
“Okay, new answer,” she said faintly. “Do everything. Do all of it. Multiple times.”
“Candy—”
“Go. Before I embarrass you further.” She was already backing toward her door, fanning herself with one hand. “Jesus Christ, Wells. You’ve been holding out on me.”
I walked to the car with my face burning and Candy’s cackle following me down the sidewalk.
Jack was standing beside the car, waiting—no, watching. Like the world had narrowed to the length of my walk down the sidewalk.
Not inside like a normal person. Watching me walk toward him with an expression that made my pulse stutter and my mouth go dry.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just let his gaze travel over me, slow and deliberate, from the careful twist of my hair down to the dress and heels.
Then back up again. I felt it like a physical touch, that look. It traced the neckline of my dress, the curve of my waist, the bare skin of my shoulders.
My cheeks burned even hotter.
“Pauline.” His voice came out rough, he cleared his throat, tried again. “You look…” His voice caught. He tried again.
I waited for the smirk. The clever comment. Something that would let me roll my eyes and remember why I needed to keep my walls up.
It didn’t come.
“Gorgeous,” he finally said. “You look absolutely gorgeous.” No smirk. No teasing. Just truth.
“Don’t try to charm me, it won’t work,”
His mouth curved. “I’m just saying the truth, you look beautiful. Like always.”
Against my will, the butterflies in my stomach multiplied. “Let’s go,” I cleared my throat, before I would burn myself out of this dress.
He opened the passenger door and I got in the car. He got in himself and I didn’t look in his direction until my heart stopped racing.
It took longer than I wanted to admit.
The gala was held in a mansion that looked like old money had carved it from marble and dared anyone to question its taste.
Crystal chandeliers dripped from ceilings so high I couldn’t see where they ended. Marble floors gleamed beneath my heels. Women glided past in designer gowns, their necks and wrists heavy with diamonds that caught the light and scattered it into rainbows.
I was dressed like them, but I still felt like an imposter the moment I stepped inside.
Everyone here actually belonged. They moved through the space with the ease of people who had grown up in rooms like this. I was overly conscious of every glance, every pair of eyes that lingered on my face before sliding away.
