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I think about Akira’s warning.
Having an age gap romance is one thing, but Akira was right. Sazuki has giant responsibilities on his shoulders—he’s a father, a son, a businessman.
An ex-husband.
I broke up with Jordan because he cheated, but I’d known that he still had thoughts about his first love. Will Sazuki put me in the same position?
Dad peers closely at my face. “Dejonae?”
“It’s almost time for the performance. I need to get ready.” I pick up the box and make a mad dash for the stairs.
“But we haven’t seen what he bought you,” mom yells.
“I’ll try it on and show you later.” My feet thud as I race up the stairs and lock myself in the bathroom.
With thick breaths, I unwrap Sazuki’s gift.
It’s a dress.
A wave of butterflies crashes through my stomach.
What are you trying to say to me, Sazuki?
And what should I say in return?
* * *
“Oh. My. Goodness.”Mom covers her mouth with one hand when I descend the stairs.
Dad’s eyes bulge. “Dejonae.”
Yaya lifts her chin proudly, her arm on my elbow as she escorts me down.
I already saw her open-mouthed and awestruck reaction to me in the dress. I wanted to show her and my parents together, but it couldn’t be helped. Yaya’s a magician with makeup and I needed her skills.
And boy… does my sister have skills.
After getting caught in her whirlwind of beautification, my eyebrows are primped, my lips painted, and my nose dusted with gold.
I almost topple when I get to the last step, but my sister’s grip on me is firm and I end up regaining my balance. This is my first time wearing heels since high school. These heels are Yaya’s, which means they’re at least three-inches higher than anything I would buy.
But from the looks on my parents’ faces, pairing the shoes with Sazuki’s dress was the right move.
“You look magical,” mom says, getting teary-eyed.
Dad grins. “Do a little spin.”
I sign, “Are you crazy? I’ll fall flat on my face.”
Yaya snorts as I totter to the mirror.
Honestly, I do look hot.
The dress Sazuki picked out for me looks like a black gemstone that got turned into threads. The top has black sleeves that glitter like they’ve been handsewn with crystal.
An onyx skirt starts at my waist and ripples down to the floor, shimmering like a sea of stars. There’s a part to the side that flashes my legs whenever I walk, adding a sense of sultriness to an otherwise modest gown.
This is notjusta little black dress.
