“Anya, the second the clock hits 12:00 p.m. I’m in the kitchen devouring my midday meal,” Matteo says, chuckling.
“Right.” I laugh in return. “You’ve mentioned that a time or two.”
Grinning, he asks, “Do you have anything you want to do?”
“I thought I would leave it up to you, honestly. It’s your city, after all.” I try not to nervously bite my lip or fidget with my fingers. “Not to put all of the pressure on you?—”
His boyish grin stops my train of thought. “Put all the pressure on me, I can take it. How about a show? Would you want to go see a ballet? There’s an afternoon performance downtown in an hour and a half, we’d have plenty of time to get ready and get there.”
“You want to take me to a ballet?” I ask, almost croaking the question in surprise. “You know the ballet schedule?”
“The Philadelphia Ballet Company is doingSwan Lake,” he replies, not at all explaining how or why he knows this information. “I’m sure you’ve probably seenSwan Lakedone a million times in a million different ways, but I think it could be nice. Fun, even. If you’re into it?—”
“Y-yes,” I cut in so quickly that I stutter. “I want to go. But, um, I didn’t bring anything really nice to wear.”
I look down at my typically modest clothing and frown. The knit sweater and black palazzo pants combination is comfortable, but a bit too casual for attending the theater—even a matinee showing. I would feel entirely out of place if I don’t find something more semi-formal to wear.
“Believe me, that’s not an issue.” Matteo chuckles, brushing off the dilemma easily. “You can borrow something from Jade or Ana, or we can send Armani out for something. A dress like you wore to the wedding, or a nice blouse and trousers. Whatever you want.”
I bite my lip, hesitant. “I don’t want to put anyone out. And I would feel bad taking clothes from Jade or Ana when they don’t even know I’m here.”
“Armani, then,” Matteo decides. “He won’t be put out, he’ll be elated to have the task. And he won’t mind keeping the secret. I could just tell him I’m going on a date and need a dress for her, if you’d prefer he doesn’t know.”
“No,” I blurt out automatically. “No, no, he can know it’s for me.”
The idea of Matteo even pretending to go on a date with some random girl makes my stomach hurt. So much so that I put a hand over it, willing the discomfort to go away before I actually become sick.
“I don’t want to meet him, though. Not yet, if that’s okay? I can give you my sizes and I can promise to meet him another time.” I discreetly rub my clammy hands on my pants and exhale. “Do you think he can find me something that covers me up? Like the wedding dress?”
“Armani can find anything.”
Matteo’s proclamation rings true, because only forty minutes after requesting a dress from his brother, a black velvet garment bag arrives. Nico brings it in the room, and while I take it to thebathroom to get changed, Matteo informs him of our plan to go to the ballet.
We’ll leave as soon as I’m ready and arrive at the show a bit early. The Moretti family apparently has permanent box seats, so we’ll have our own space, away from any strangers or crowds. It all lines up so perfectly that it almost feels like a dream.
Especially when I open the dress bag and find not one, but two gowns. They’re both floor-length and have long sleeves with modest necklines. One white, and one lavender. My favorite colors that Ididn’tmention in my message to Armani, meaning Matteo must have. There’s also a pair of white Jimmy Choo kitten heels at the bottom of the bag, in my exact size.
After a bit of deliberating, I pick the white dress because I enjoy the classic design. It’s not formfitting other than at the waist and chest, but it also isn’t too big of a skirt. And despite not being tailored or tried on, the gown ends up fitting perfectly, along with the heels.
After hiding my other outfit under Matteo’s bathroom sink in case anyone is in his room while we’re gone, I step out to find two men staring at me. Nico looks me up and down and arches a brow but says nothing. Matteo, though. Matteo’s whole face glows.
“Holy shit,” he breathes out. “You look incredible.”
Cheeks flaming, I tuck a bit of hair behind my ear and smile. “Thank you.”
“Jesus, I look like a scrub,” he says, shaking himself out of his stupor. “Give me like three minutes, I need to put on a suit.”
“You should take more than three minutes to put on a suit if you don’t want to look like a scrub,” Nico tells him dryly.
Matteo flips his brother off and disappears into his closet, closing the door behind himself.
Again, I see Nico assess me with his eyes. “You look like a bride.”
“Thank you?” I say questioningly, a startled laugh almost escaping my lips. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
He shrugs. “Take it however you want it. I’ve never dressed up like that for a day out with afriend.”
“Have you everhada day out with a friend?” I challenge, lifting a brow.
