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“You lost me. Do I need a physical for my marriage license?”
She laughed. “No, silly. For Botox.”
I gasped. “I do not need Botox!”
She reached across the table and patted my hand. “Honey, we all need it eventually.”
I studied her perfect face. “Have you…?”
“Yup. Started when I turned twenty-seven. Here, here, here, and here.” She pointed to various places about her flawless face. “I also get filler in my lips, but you don’t need that. Your lips are already full.”
I was shocked. “I just thought you naturally looked like that.”
“Well, I do. The injections just keep things from creasing or sagging.”
My fingers blindly dragged across my features as if I were reading a secret message in braille. “Do you think I need?—”
“Yes.”
“You could have at least pretended to think it over.”
“Six months ago, I would have. But these things need time to heal and we don’t have much time left. I’m texting Josette and telling her to make you an appointment ASAP.”
There went my self-esteem. I guzzled the rest of my beer.
That night, when I returned to the penthouse, Percy was waiting to see if I needed anything else. Originally it felt strange having someone wait on me, but my mojo dojo casa butler appeared truly happy to fulfill any request when it came to my comfort or needs.
“Is there anything else you require, madam?”
“I’m all set, Percy. Thank you. Have a good night.” I shut the door to the master bedroom and left him to locking up.
The following morning I woke up to a delivery of fresh flowers from Hale with a card wishing me luck on this momentous day. I texted him to say thank you, knowing I’d have news for him as soon as he was waking up on the other side of the globe.
As the hours passed my nerves started to jangle. It was a good thing I got my lashes done, because by the time I put my makeup on I could barely keep my hand steady enough to apply lip gloss.
Once I was dressed, I met Marty outside.
“Good morning,” the driver greeted in a thick accent.
“Morning.” I tried to smile brightly but my nerves made me question the contents of my stomach.
I would forever be cursed with a nervous bladder that made me impulsively want to pee before any noteworthy life events. Staying intentionally dehydrated helped curb my unintentional delusional habits.
The closer we drove to Pennsylvania the more I feared something going wrong. He was going to cancel or there was going to be an accident that would close down the interstate. A meteor was going to hit the planet—not huge, just enough to take out the tri-state area and prevent me from getting to lunch so I could finally meet my dad.
None of that actually happened. We made it to the restaurant with little traffic and parked with several minutes to spare.
I looked at the cars in the parking lot, trying to pinpoint my dad’s Chevy truck. I didn’t know what color it was, but that didn’t matter. There were no trucks to be seen.
Oh, my God, he’s standing me up!
Sick to my stomach, I dug out my phone. The last message I had from him was from last night. It said he couldn’t wait to meet me. If he bailed on me, would he at least have the decency to tell me, or would I end up sitting all alone like a ditched blind date?
“Shall I walk you inside?” Marty asked.
I looked out the window again, my brows pulling tight. “You don’t have to.”
“I was merely asking if you were ready to go inside. I have strict instructions from Mr. Davenport to accompany you at all times.”
