Page 32 of My Real Love Affair

“But—”

“No buts. You’re going on this date, and you’re going to have an amazing time, and you’re going to look so hot that he forgets his own name.” She stood up, all business now. “Come on. We’re picking out your outfit.”

“Cleo, we have work to do.”

“Work can wait. This is more important.” She was already heading toward my bedroom. “What did he say to wear?”

“Something comfortable.”

Cleo grinned. “Okay, I can work with that. He wants casual but still pulled together. Probably wants you to feel like yourself, not like you’re trying too hard.”

“I think you might be giving the guy a lot of credit,” I said with a laugh. “He’s probably telling me not to wear a formal gown or a tiara.”

“A good tiara is appropriate for any occasion!” She laughed.

I climbed the stairs to my bedroom. Cleo was already in my closet. She knew my wardrobe better than I did. We spent the next hour going through my things. She pulled out outfit after outfit, creating combinations that looked fresh even though I had worn everything several times before.

“Hold the phone,” Cleo said, pulling out a dress I’d forgotten I owned. “Where have you been hiding, little lady?”

It was a casual wrap dress in a pretty teal color that I’d bought on a whim months ago. The fabric was soft jersey thatdraped beautifully, and the wrap style cinched at the waist before flowing over my hips. It had three-quarter sleeves and a V-neckline that was flattering without being too revealing.

I held it up against myself. “You think?”

“I know.” Cleo was already digging through my sneaker collection. “This is perfect. Comfortable but still polished. Shows off your curves without looking like you’re trying too hard. And the color makes your eyes pop.”

I slipped into the bathroom to try it on, and when I emerged, Cleo let out a low whistle.

“Damn, girl. Austin Bancroft is not going to know what hit him.”

I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. The dress fit like a dream. The wrap style emphasized my waist, and the color really did make my hazel eyes stand out. I looked like myself, just the elevated version.

“Now for shoes.” Cleo held up a pair of my favorite sneakers, limited edition Nike Dunks in cream and sage green that perfectly complemented the dress. They were pristine, only worn once for a photoshoot. “These.”

I quickly put them on and turned left, then right. “You think?”

“I know.”

“Thank you,” I said. “For this. For everything.”

“Please. Like I’d miss the chance to style you for a date with a Bancroft.” She bumped my shoulder with hers. “But seriously, I’m excited for you. You deserve something good after the week you’ve had.”

“Even if it’s probably temporary?”

“Even if.” She checked her phone. “Okay, we have seven hours until he picks you up. That’s enough time to do a full glam session, practice some conversation starters, and maybe spiral into panic only two or three times.”

I laughed despite my nerves. “Sounds like a plan.”

We spent the rest of the day working. We decided not to post any new content. I didn’t want to remind people of the scandal. I was basically taking cover. Waiting for things to blow over.

Around five, Cleo started my hair and makeup. Nothing too dramatic. She knew my style. Soft waves, natural makeup with a bold lip, a hint of shimmer on my eyes.

“You look like you,” she said, studying her work. “Just the very best version.”

I stared at my reflection. She was right. I looked like myself, only more polished. More confident.

I knew why she said it. After the craziness of people saying I was fake, it was important I was myself. No gimmicks.

“Now get dressed,” Cleo ordered. “And remember, if he tries anything creepy, you text me our code word and I’ll call the FBI.”