Chapter 12

Emma

“This is so exciting!” Willow said, giggling. “Once a waitress going nowhere, now an executive assistant going to a fancy charity dinner!”

“Hey, I wasn’t going nowhere!”

She waved me off. “You know what I mean. Show me what you’re going to wear!”

I’d gone shopping yesterday after work, still so high on the dark promise of the sexual-tension-laden conversation with Max, that I hadn’t been paying much attention to price tags. I was now the proud owner of a beautiful emerald gown that hung tight to my body to the knee, then flared into a gentle mermaid bottom. I figured I deserved it for all the hard work I’d been doing to get my act together, but I also just wanted to look good for Max.

“Hang on a sec,” I said. “I’m nearly done with my hair and then I’ll change into it.”

“Ooh, the grand makeover reveal!” She sighed dreamily. “I love it. I wish I had your life.”

I laughed and listened to her steps fall away from the bathroom door. I was trying to make the best bombshell curls I could with the limited tools on hand, which included a curling iron from the nineties and an array of all natural hair products.

“Do you want a glass of wine to help with the nerves?” Willow called.

“No thanks!” I called back.

“Okay, well if you change your mind, I’m going to have one.”

I rolled my eyes in the mirror and kept on curling. I still couldn’t believe that tonight was actually happening. Not just the dinner, but the whole enchilada. There was no way that I’d misinterpreted our conversation in his office yesterday. He wanted me, and we had established that I wanted him too. Whether it was proper or not, something was happening tonight. I’d signed myself up for something and I was betting it was going to be one hell of a ride.

We hadn’t had any more sexy chats like that since. In fact, Max had been frustratingly polite, but every once and awhile he’d smile like he was undressing me with his eyes, and I felt just as exposed as if he had been. It was our new game, but the newest one would be the one we played tonight.

Was I ready for that, though?

My phone buzzed on the counter, and I looked down at the screen. A wave of nausea rolled over me and I had to set the curling iron back down on the counter.

Lance had texted me. Dare I read what he had to say? What was it going to be this time—just that he missed me, or something more?

I scowled at my mostly-curled head in the mirror and deliberated whether I should read the text at all. Then I gave in and picked up the phone, unlocking it and holding my breath.

Hey. Can we meet up tonight?

The nerve of him! I hadn’t responded to his text, and I hadn’t called him back after Willow hung up on him the time before. Now he wanted to meet up? I slammed my phone on the counter and went back to my hair.

By the time I finished my last curl a realization struck me. Today was the first time ever that I wasn’t tempted by Lance. I didn’t want to go meet up with him, even though part of me still ached from our break up. It was like he’d been a thorn in my side, and now that the thorn was missing the skin was slowly knitting back together. It felt good.

I smiled confidently, turning from side to side to admire my hair and the smoky eye shadow I’d applied to my lids. I looked good. I would even go so far as to say that I looked good enough to go out with Max Westfield, which was ideal considering he’d be picking me up in less than an hour.

“Are you done yet?” Willow whined distantly. “I’m already a little bit buzzed.”

I laughed and grabbed my phone from the counter, stepping into the hall. Willow had set up camp on the far end of the sofa, which afforded her a view of the length of the hallway.

“I’ll go put the dress on now,” I assured her.

She raised the glass of white wine to her lips and took a sip. “While I’m still young, please.”

The dress was still hung up in the hall closet, next to our winter jackets. I unzipped the cloth cover and pulled it free, then carried it off to the bathroom to change.

Willow was right. This was surreal. Somewhere out there right now, Max Westfield was putting on a tux and adjusting his cufflinks, and he probably had a whole walk in closet to do it in. I had a tiny bathroom and a half-drunk roommate as my audience.

I slithered into the dress and admired the fit in the mirror. Although the lighting in the room wasn’t that great, the beauty of the dress still managed to strike me. It went beautifully with my hair, making the red seem more vibrant somehow. Even if I never wore this dress again, I would still never regret buying it. It was like I was making my debut into a whole new life.

Willow nearly dropped her wine glass when I came out of the bathroom. “Girl, you look hot!” She jumped to her feet, placed her glass carefully on the coffee table, and skipped toward me. “Do a spin!”

I did, adding a little flair just for her.

Willow clapped. “That dress looks incredible. You look incredible. I’m so freaking jealous it’s crazy. I should have thought more about the possibilities for swanky events when I was picking a college major. A fancy dinner beats wrangling five year olds any day.”

I hadn’t quite told Willow what I expected to happen tonight, because I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t sure whether she would approve or not.

Who was I kidding? She definitely wouldn’t approve. She’d all but dragged me off of him that night at the club.

I wanted to share my nervousness and excitement with her, but didn’t know how to approach the topic. I decided to start on a high note.

“I got a text from Lance while I was in the bathroom,” I said.

Willow’s expression immediately softened. “Aw, hon, I’m sorry. Don’t let it ruin your special night.”

“No, it’s fine.” I smiled. “I’m fine, actually. He’s a jerk and I realize that now. I’m not going to let him ruin the night because I’m not going to think about him anymore. I’m ignoring the text message. He is no longer a welcome part of my life.”

Willow pumped her fist in the air and strode back over to her wine, raising it in a toast to me. “I’m so proud of you! I know how hard this has been.”

“Thanks, Willow.”

She tipped the glass back and finished its contents, wiping her mouth afterward with a mischievous grin.

A loud buzzing sound drew both of our attention to the bathroom, where I’d left my phone.

“You don’t have to get that,” said Willow, clearly thinking it was Lance calling.

“I don’t think he’d call that soon after texting me,” I said. “He was always nearly impossible to get a hold of when we were together.” I started walking down the hall.

“Guys act crazy when they feel rejected though,” she called after me.

I didn’t recognize the name on the caller ID, so unless it was Lance and he was using somebody else’s phone, I figured it was safe to answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Emma Valentine?”

“This is her.”

I didn’t recognize the man’s voice, which always made me nervous.

“Hi Emma, this is Fred Jefferson from Grantham Property Management, how are you doing today?”

Grantham Property Management. Where had I heard that name before?

Willow had migrated over to the bathroom to listen in on my call, and I saw her trying to figure it out too. Suddenly, it hit me.

“Fred! Hi,” I said enthusiastically. “It’s great to hear from you. What can I do for you?”

Grantham Property Management managed a building whose waiting list I’d applied to when I first moved in with Willow. I’d been looking for a place sporadically, but it was expensive in the city and nearly impossible to find an open place. Hearing back from Grantham could mean the search was over.

“I’m just calling to let you know that we’ve had a unit open up in our Herrick’s Cross building. You’re next on the waiting list, so I wanted to know if you were still interested.”

My mouth split into a wide grin. “Yes! Absolutely! That would be amazing!”

Fred and I made arrangements for me to come view the unit over the weekend, but that was merely a formality. I told him I’d take whatever they had that came available, and I was thrilled to realize that by the beginning of next month I’d have my own place. No more sleeping on the couch, no more inconveniencing my best friend.

Willow crushed me in a hug the second I hung up the phone. “That’s so exciting!” she said. “I’m going to miss you so much though. Are you sure you don’t want to wait another month?”

I laughed, patting her on the back. “Not if it would mean missing out on an opportunity to rent in Herrick’s Cross. It is by far the best building in my budget.”

She sighed, “I know. I’ve gotten so used to you being here though, you know?”

“I know.” I squeezed her, making her giggle. “You know what? I think I’d like that glass of wine now.”

“On it.” Willow backed out of the hug and was halfway to the kitchen before my arms even fell to my side. I followed her, clutching my phone in my hand in case anybody else wanted to call and give me amazing news.

Willow handed me a glass of wine in the kitchen and refilled her own. I thanked her, and once her glass was full we clinked them together.

“To fresh starts,” I said.

“To fresh starts.”

We drank, and only then did it hit me how nervous I was for the evening ahead. Hearing this news about the apartment had made me crazy happy, but I was also crazy nervous about tonight.

“So there’s one thing I didn’t tell you about when Max asked me to be his date tonight,” I said.

Willow noticeably perked up. “Go on.”

“There was kinda the implication that I’m not going as his assistant.”

“Then what would you be going as?”

I gulped. “You know. His date. His actual date, who may or may not end up in his actual bed… uh… later on.”

Willow narrowed her eyes, lips pursing together to create a truly terrifying stare.

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

She chugged back a gulp of wine. “God. Is that a good idea?”

I was glad she hadn’t already gone into a tirade about how it was a terrible idea. Maybe that meant she would come around to the notion.

“We’re two consenting adults,” I said. “Just because we work together shouldn’t mean that we can’t engage in the kinds of activities that two consenting adults might engage in together.”

She eyed me warily. “As long as you know what you’re doing, babe. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

I didn’t want to see me get hurt either. I rode so high when I was with Max that I knew I was only a stumble away from a long and unpleasant drop. That was a fact that I had come to terms with somewhat. I still worried, of course, but something inside me said that if I didn’t do this, I’d regret it forever.

The buzzer rang and I jumped, wine sloshing out the side of my glass. I hastily tucked the glass onto the counter and ran to the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Max.”

“I’ll be down in just a minute,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as stressed as I felt.

I took one last look in the mirror before I left, making sure everything was perfectly in place. I looked great, and was just hoping Max thought so too.

“Knock ‘em dead, tiger,” Willow said, already drinking my wine.

I gave her a thumbs up and left, taking the elevator down and then walking out the front door of the building. A limo was idling at the curb, and Max was standing beside the open back door. His eyes snapped to me as soon as I walked through the door, and I watched him drag his gaze hungrily up the length of me.

“You look incredible,” he said, in a smooth and sexy voice.

I checked him out as I approached, admiring the fit of his tux and the way he managed to still look somewhat roguish, even in black tie.

“You too,” I replied.

Max offered his hand to help me into the limo, and I took it shyly.

Good or bad, things would never be the same after tonight.