I looked at my reflection. The result was… unfortunate. Meaning, I looked extremely good.
The dress fit perfectly, and the heels made my legs look miles long. My hair had been loosely styled in a way that suggested effort without screaming about it. The makeup Cris had insisted on applying made my skin look even and my eyes brighter.
Cris placed both hands over her mouth. “Zoey, you are going to destroy this man.”
“That seems unlikely.”
“He’s already obsessed with you.”
“That’s not a helpful or healthy framing.”
“You’re walking into this dinner looking likethat.” She gestured at me broadly. “It’s going to escalate.”
I leaned closer to the mirror and adjusted one of the straps.
Something unfamiliar sat in my stomach.
Excitement.
Actual excitement.
That irritated me, because I had spent most of my adult life avoiding situations that made me feel this invested in another person.
Now I was standing in heels I hated, wearing a dress that made me look formidable, preparing to go to dinner with a man who had literally tracked a missing child through the forest for me.
My brain tried to remind me that this situation contained several red flags, but my heart didn’t seem to mind.
At first, I hadn’t trusted my quick impulse to ask him to dinner. Fast was usually how bad ideas introduced themselves. Quick was how you talked yourself over your own instincts and called it chemistry.
But now, I had to admit that my relationship with speed in this specific situation wasn’t exactly objective. I had spent most of my life identifying and labeling what was safe and what wasn’t. I was good at that, but I was also good at treating anything emotionally significant as suspicious. I was also guilty of avoiding “safe” situations just in case I was wrong about them. Sometimes that was wisdom. Sometimes it was fear with a better publicist.
What Liam had done at my apartment wasn’t okay. I wasn’t reframing it because he was handsome or helpful or because Bobbi had gone missing and scared the life out of me.
But that night had given me new information.
So had the way he had respected the space I asked for and taken accountability. So had every small thing since. Going todinner with him wasn’t surrender. It wasn’t me pretending the hard part hadn’t happened. It was one deliberate step taken with my eyes open, in proper lighting, wearing shoes I already regretted. To be honest, I was proud of myself for coming to that conclusion this quickly.
It was progress.
Cris leaned against the dresser. “So, how are you feeling?”
I considered the question. “Nervous.”
“Understandable.”
“Excited.”
She grinned. “Also understandable.”
“And mildly suspicious of my own decision-making.”
“That part will pass.”
I turned away from the mirror and grabbed my purse. “You’re sure this isn’t a terrible idea?”
Cris adjusted the neckline of my dress. “Zoey, you’re allowed to like someone.”
I exhaled slowly as we walked out of my bedroom.
