She re-read it. He had actually printed outdebauchery.
“I know,right?!” Jenna lifted her head as Blake’s head spun around to face her. “It’s a vintageValentinogown.”
Oh good. Blake thought Jenna gasped because of the gown, not because of what was written on the indecent invitation, which Jenna looked at now.
The gown was…gasp. It was red, not just red, but the kind of red that stopped traffic and probably caused small town scandals. It was cut dramatically low in the front, the fabric hugging in a way that suggested dangerous curves, then flaring out at the hip with an elegant, old movie star sex appeal. The slit in the skirt was so high it threatened to leave nothing to the imagination.
Jenna was still admiring it, but her daughter was already onto the next treasure, a box the size of a hardcover book, wrapped in black tissue and tied with a silk ribbon.
Blake untied it with the deftness of a professional thief and pulled out a pair of shoes that glittered in the overhead light. “It’s Carrie’s ‘And Just Like That’ season one, episode five Christian Louboutin Kate Strass crystal pumps,” Blake recited, staring at the shoes as if they were the Holy Grail. “Do you know how rare these are?”
Blake had, for as long as Jenna could remember, treated the subject of fashion as if it were theology, and her own faith burned especially hot for the Holy Trinity of Carrie Bradshaw, Anna Wintour, and—less canonically, but fervently—Beanie Feldstein. She could quote runways and reference Met Gala themes the way other children rattled off Pokémon evolutions or Taylor Swift lyrics.
Blake’s hands hovered over the shoes, trembling with a cocktail of devotion and terror. “Mom, do you even know what these are?” She gingerly lifted one Louboutin heel, its pointed toe and crystal mesh catching the indifferent kitchen light. “The last time I saw a pair of these, they were at the Christie’s auction. Carrie wears these, Mom. I mean, not literally these, but—” She faltered, as if the line between fantasy and reality had suddenly become negotiable.
She watched as her daughter, who in her mom mind’s eye only last year was learning to tie her shoes and needed her help to open a Capri Sun, now handling couture with the authority of an auctioneer.
“Okay, let’s put this all back. I need to finish dinner.” The words came out brittle, like the snap of a dry branch.
Blake whipped around, hurt and incredulous. “Dinner? How can you think about dinner at a time like this? This is the best day of my life.”
Jenna ignored her daughter and was trying to close the door when Blake reached for another bag, unsnapping the small, magnetic clasp and letting the contents spill onto the tufted entryway bench.
The ring was gold-and-diamond and shaped like a coiling serpent. The bracelet was a mosaic of enamel and rose gold, so intricate it looked like it had been woven from sunlight. The necklace, nestled in tissue, was a collar of heavy, interlocking gold links that felt almost weaponized in its beauty.
“These are Bulgari pieces,” Blake said, breathlessly. “They literally blinged out Hudson Williams for the Oscars. Mom, do you realize what this means?”
Jenna did not, in fact, realize what this meant. Her knowledge of jewelry began and ended with the glass cases at Macy’s and the one time she’d been given a fake tennis bracelet for her high school graduation by Asher. She could not comprehend why Deacon, a man who existed in a realm so stratospheric that the rest of humanity might as well be sea monkeys, would send her such a gift. It made no sense. No logical sense at all.
She pressed her palm to her chest and tried not to have a panic attack. “Let’s just… put it away for now, okay?” She gathered up the shoes and the dress and zipped them back into the garment bag with a finality that suggested she was sealing off a crime scene.
Blake, however, had other plans. She followed Jenna as she retreated toward the front closet, her phone already in hand, thumbs ready for documentation. “Wait, Mom.What’s in the envelope?” She snatched at the edge of the manila envelope, her movements fueled by a caffeine high of adolescent curiosity.
“Nothing.” Jenna moved it away from her. “It’s just an invitation to the gala.”
“It’s from Deacon, isn’t it?”
“What? Why? What? Why, why, why, would you say that?”
Blake took out her phone and held it up to Jenna’s face. Before Jenna could stop her, she’d snapped several photos as she explained her reasoning. “Because he’s a billionaire and he’ssointo you.”
“Stop!” Jenna blocked her face from unwanted paparazzi shots. “And he is not.”
Blake stared down at the pics she’d just taken. “Oh my god, mom you aresocute when you have a crush.”
“I donothave a crush. Delete those now.”
Blake turned her phone around, and sadly, it looked like Jenna had huge puppy-dog eyes. “Yes. You. Do.”
Jenna grabbed at Blake’s phone, but Blake pulled her phone away. “Blake, I’m serious. Delete them.”
“I won’t post them, but what’s the rule?” Blake sing-songed.
“Do what your mother says,” Jenna stated flatly.
“Good guess, but no.” Blake shook her head. “The rule is I can have them on myphone,just not post.”
Fuck. That was the rule. Jenna took so many photos of Blake that Blake wanted her to delete, so they came to an agreement that Jenna could keep the photos on her phone as long as they never ended up on any social media.
