“Wow,” said Liv then whistled.

I was standing in front of the hall mirror in the new gown. In practically no time at all, and with Liv’s help, we’d managed to curl my long, honey brown hair. It fell silkily past my shoulders where it partially covered the lacy straps of the gown. I looked so different to how I looked when I went into the office. I usually kept my hair swept back off my face, mostly in a bun or a ponytail, but tonight letting my hair down seemed the right thing to do. The dress also warranted the look.

And by some miracle, it had fit like a glove. I couldn’t believe it. It was like my own fairy Godmother had made it for me, knowing my measurements to the exact millimeter. However that also came with a stomach-churning anxiety too. The dress was like a second skin, and I kept finding myself wrapping my arms around my middle self-consciously.

Numerous times Liv had batted them away and told me not to be ashamed of my body. “Flaunt it, girl!”

I blushed. “I can’t believe this is happening, Liv.”

“You deserve it. And in that dress, you better go out there and shake what Mama gave ya.” We smiled, though a little somberly, and knew what we were both thinking. Neither of us felt the need to say it. I thought it instead: It wasn’t like Mama was going to give me anything else this Christmas, but at least we had her genes, and spectacular legs.

Gratefully I borrowed some of Liv’s heels, a strappy silver pair, and put on makeup that wasn’t my usual go-to of sunscreen, chapstick, and mascara. When my hand shook as I tried to apply a thin line of eyeliner, Liv was forced to take over.

But finally, the transformation was complete, with a couple of minutes to spare. I hardly recognized myself. The whirlwind of the night finally caught up with us, and as soon as we made eye contact in the mirror, we erupted into a fit of laughter. I laughed so hard; tears streamed from my eyes. Luckily I’d had the foresight to use waterproof mascara, and my makeup was left intact.

“Oh don’t you start,” Liv said as she saw my tears, even though they were happy ones. “You’ll set me off, and I’ll be forced to eat that pint of ice cream I know you’ve got hidden away in the back of the freezer.”

I nodded and pulled myself together. “At least leave me some if you do.”

Last year, Dad had gone into the hospital on December 19th at 4:12 pm. And since that afternoon, time plowed ahead at breakneck speed. There had never been a moment to gasp for air, never a moment to step off the vicious merry go round that had become my life. But as I stared at myself in the long hallway mirror, and stared at Liv beaming behind me, time, for just a moment, stilled.

I realized we’d been having fun. Not faking happiness for each other, but just presently, unabashedly happy. For the first time in almost a year, we were starting to remember what it felt like to be whole.

At 8:00 p.m., I checked my makeup one last time in the mirror and blotted my lips again. From the front room, I heard Liv utter a breathless, “Wow!”

“What?” I called.

“Your knight in shining armor sure knows how to ride in style! Wait till you see it,” she said coming back into the hallway and proceeded to push me to the door.

Outside was an elegant but enormous black limousine, with dark tinted windows. It was one of those stretch-SUVs. It was so large that I wouldn’t have been surprised if there was a pool in it somewhere!

Watching it park I was inundated with unwelcome flashbacks to prom. I hadn’t gone, of course, but I’d helped Nicole get ready at her house and remembered the pit of jealousy I’d felt as she’d boarded her fancy limo with her other, more popular, friends.

“Don’t look so petrified!” Liv said from the porch. “Have fun. Please? Just a little bit of fun. Do it for me!”

I nodded and gathered up the bottom of my dress. “I promise. I won’t be late—”

“You better be late! I don’t want you stepping back into this house until way after midnight!”

“Yes, Ma'am!” I chuckled and nodded again at my adorable and loving sister.

A driver in a crisp suit exited the car and held the door open for me. He held my hand and helped me step aboard. Inside, the cavernous car was empty, and I breathed an unexpected sigh of relief.

Though a part of me was also slightly disappointed that Tommy wasn’t there with a romantic bouquet of roses and a smile to greet me.

But this wasn’t a fairytale; I knew I had to keep reminding myself of that. I was only there because he’d made it absolutely clear I had to be, that it was part of my job. The dress and the limo, no doubt, were just fronts; to show off or at least look equal to the other people who would be in attendance. He couldn’t very well have me showing up in a dress I bought on sale years ago or my old beater of a car. That wouldn’t exactly give the right impression, now would it?

And at work, we’d barely spoken more than 50 words to each other. Of those words, maybe 10 of them were kind. I’d been a bumbling, flustered mess of apologies and attempts to please. He’d been an impossible to satisfy jerk. It didn’t leave much room for a successful carpool, so it was good we were going separately. At least that’s what I tried to tell myself the entire ride.

The driver watched me get settled in the spacious back seat before asking, “All set, Miss?”

“Yes, thank you.” The moment felt surreal and outside, it had started to snow. It was almost magical.

We drove out of my neighborhood and into the nicer, more expensive part of town. Apartments became houses, which became mansions on plots of land that were separated by vast amounts of space and manicured gardens. The traffic of the city slowly lessoned until, finally, we approached a looming metal gate at the end of a long line of limousines, black sedans, and sports cars.

After pacing along, we reached the front of the house, if you could even call it that. A large fountain in the front courtyard splashed what I could only imagine just above freezing water. Tuxedoed men and elegant looking women paraded around in the falling snow, their opulence acting as an apparent shield to the frigid weather. The driver stopped the car in front of a wide, stone staircase that rose to meet a line of beautiful white columns. Out of nowhere a man dressed all in black approached and took my breath away. I realized suddenly it was Tommy Carver.

He opened the door and extended a hand wearing a sleek, black leather glove.

I longed to take it but knew if I did I would be falling deeper and deeper for the man that was my boss. I was only here to work, I reminded myself. Nothing more.

Stubbornly, I ignored his hand and clambered out of the limo. If tonight went horribly wrong, I had the list in my clutch. I didn’t know what I intended to do with it, I was still worried I’d lose my job, but having it made me feel better somehow. It was a shield against his unpredictability.

Illuminated by the outdoor lighting, his eyes looked darker than ever; a wild, stormy gray. In all the excitement, I’d never considered the fact that Tommy Carver, my high school crush; my asswipe of a boss; Tommy Carver, the naughty list author extraordinaire, would be standing in front of me with his arm extended like some Hollywood cliché. Or a would-be Prince Charming.

I shook my head. I needed to keep my wits about me.

My black shawl was no match for the freezing temperature, and I was already shivering. Clamminess seeped out onto my palms.

The power I’d felt before from having the list suddenly dissipated. Up until this moment, it had propelled me forward without fear or anxiety. I had been nervous about having enough time to get ready, to not screwing up and about all the people I would meet, but I hadn’t even considered this part. I hadn’t considered that I’d have to spend a diplomatic evening with my high school crush turned arch nemesis.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked. It was the first time he’d spoken tonight.

“Yes, I’m fine, thanks.”

My nose was dominated by that same scent I’d experienced the night he helped me with my Jeep. Mint and aftershave, it was a sharp smell, masculine, and if I was honest with myself, heavenly.

I wanted him to wrap his arms around me, bring me close and envelope me in that heady, intoxicating smell.

“You look stunning,” he added. I tried to conceal the shock that I’m sure instantly appeared on my face.

A few snowflakes had fallen into his dark hair and onto the shoulders of his coat. I watched them disappear before looking up into his gray eyes once more.

“Thank you,” I said. I tried to keep my voice even and unaffected, but already I was losing this power battle and I’d barely gotten out of the car.

“Well, you do,” he replied quietly.

As we started up the steps he spoke again, in hushed tones, his head was tilted conspiratorially toward mine.

“I’m not sure how to say this,” he half-whispered, his voice low. I immediately flashed back to that look on his face by the filing cabinet and outside of my car. I looked at him now, the same apprehension was there, but his face looked different. Embarrassed almost.

“I have a small request,” he said.

For a moment I wondered if it was something work-related, he had said I’d be working this evening. The pained expression in his eyes made me think it was something more than that though. I stared at him with an uneasy curiosity.

“What? Not an order or a demand?”

He smiled. “No, a simple request; a favor.”

“So if I wanted to I could say?”

Tommy paused and looked at me. “You could, but I would be very grateful if you didn’t.”

I pondered this warmer version of Tommy and his request. But still didn’t let my guard down. He, after all, wanted something from me.

“The real reason I’m—we’re—at this event tonight is because Douglas Barnaby will be here.”

“Barnaby?” I asked, “Like Barnaby Electric?”

“Yes, like Barnaby Electric.”

He took a breath and let the gravity of that fact sink in. The name Barnaby dominated our town. Most hospitals, schools, and state buildings boasted the name. Douglas Barnaby was on Forbes’s list of wealthiest men last year. The bookshop where I’d worked since out of college was also called “Barnaby Books,” although I’d never seen him in there. Still, everyone knew who he was.

Tommy cleared his throat. “Douglas Barnaby is painfully old fashioned. He doesn’t do business in office buildings with contracts before him. He does business based on ‘gut’ feelings at informal occasions, parties like this one. Then he lets his lawyers fill in the blanks and take care of the minutia.”

“OK,” I said uncertainly, “what does that have to do with me?”

“Well, they’re thinking of going into business with a firm and well… a few other candidates have been turned away because, at least this is what I’ve heard, because Doug didn’t find their CEOs ‘human’ enough. They were men who just worked every given moment and didn’t have time for anything else. And I’m not ashamed to say I suppose I fit into that category pretty well. He’s written several pieces about keeping strong family values at the forefront of his businesses…”

I was just staring at him. I didn’t have the slightest clue what he was talking about. Part of me wished he’d taken up the asshole routine again, at least that was vaguely predictable. But this Tommy was someone different. Vulnerable even. He exhaled sharply.

My curiosity was killing me at this point, and I could only helplessly shrug.

“I need your help,” he said, finally.

Then he handed me a sparkling diamond ring, and my mouth dropped open. “Marry me?”