“Thanks…” My nerves sing with his praise. “Here I am babbling about my day. How was yours? I hope you had a good day.”
“It is now.”
Nope, we do not get stomach swoops at that.I flick that ineffective—but I nonetheless still wear it—rubber band. “What are you doing here?”
Brocato’s, Catherine’s favorite steakhouse, is only a block away from my building, so I planned to walk. In the group chat I set up to coordinate tonight’s impromptu dinner celebration, I said I’d meet everyone there at six.
“I’m here to take you home.”
“I said I’d meet everyone at Brocato’s.”
“Well, you didn’t answer my text asking if that meant you didn’t want a ride home, so I erred on the side of keeping your butt warm,” he says, striding into the office.
“Sorry.” I frown at my phone that remains quiet on my desk. With my afternoon meetings with students, I must have forgotten to turn the ringer back on.
“It’s alright. This will give you more time to get dolled up like you all were prattling on about in the group chat.”
“I tapped out before my afternoon meetings. Did Catherine and Anker decide on what tie he’s going to wear?”
“They’ve moved on to shoes.”
“I’m sure you found the dialogue riveting.” I make jazz hands for some unknown reason, but go with it.
“Like paint drying,” he deadpans. “What’s SPUB, by the way?”
“SPUB?” I scrunch my nose.
“Catherine and Kayla said to not forget the SPUB you promised.”
SPUB? What on earth are…My eyes widen. I will kill them both! Did they really put into a group chat with Garrett and my brother for me to wear the sexy push-up bra I joked about earlier?
“Nothing… Inside joke.” Clearing my throat, I slip my phone into my bag. “You really don’t need to drive me home tonight. I can take the bus, so you have time to get ready. I’m sure Anker has thoughts about your belt and shoe pairing.”
“Nah… I’m good.” He grabs my cane from the corner and hands it to me. “I’ll drive you home, so you have plenty of time, and then we can head there together. Plus, if I go straight home, I’ll have a crabby cat to contend with. Ditka enjoys his run of the house, but gets fussy if I dip in and out. He either wants me there or gone. There’s no in-between with him.”
“Oh, Ditka.”
The logistics of getting dolled up in a studio apartment while Garrett sits on my sofa gives me pause as I stand in front of my closet. Grabbing the dress I plan to wear is fine, but how to stealthily gather up the sexy push-up bra and matching panties is something I didn’t foresee when I said, “Come on up and hang out, while I get ready.” Scooping everything into my arms, I shuffle into the bathroom.
Stripping off my work clothes, I toss them into the hamper. I tug on the black dress over my lacy red push-up bra and panties. The irony of changing into this behind a closed door, mere feet away from a man I both want to and am horrified at the idea of seeing me in, sends heat crawling up my neck. It’s a simple, but sexy, scoop-neck black dress that hugs my breasts but flows out in an A-line skirt that stops at my knees. Its flowy bell sleeves offer a bit of whimsy like a princess from a fairytale. I leave my hair loose, fluff it a bit, and slip in a pair of gold chandelier earrings I bought on the ladies’ trip.
I swipe red lip stain—also a purchase made on my trip based on Kayla’s recommendation of how it popped against my fair skin—and stand in front of the mirror for just a moment. The bright bulbs offer enough light to take in my image. It’sfuzzy, but pretty. At least, that’s how I feel. Maybe it’s just the pretty feeling inside me right now. Today feels like another mile marker on this journey I’m on. Tonight is about celebrating Catherine, but a little bit of me will be selfishly celebrating my own success. Even if I’m the only one who knows.
Sliding into the gold heels that match my earrings, I take a deep breath and step out of the bathroom. “Do you need to freshen up before we head out. Perhaps, a spritz of perfume, or I can lend you some lipstick. I think pink is your color,” I sass.
“Funny,” he grunts, rising and turning to face me. “Fuuuuck… Pretty...”
“Ah…” The breath wooshes out of me.
“I mean”—he rubs the back of his head—“you look pretty. I’m sure our fashion police friends will approve.”
“Thank you,” is all I can say through the erratic thump of my heart. All the warning bells are going off. I’m getting way too close to this fire, and it will consume me if I don’t say something. If I don’t say what I want. “Garrett…” Swallowing thickly, I cross the room to stand in front of him.
“Yeah.” He steps closer.
The air crackles between us with possibility. The possibility of me closing the distance, smudging my lipstick with a claiming kiss. To know what his lips would feel like against mine. To feel his strong hands roam down my body as he pulls me flush against him. To be late for dinner because we’re too busy feasting on one another. It’s all there, but so is the blinking red sign warning of heartbreak.
“Sunset is at around 5:20 p.m.,” I whisper.
