That was the whole trap.
You could know a man’s politics and still not know how he looked at a woman up close. You could know the range of his opinions and still not know what his cologne did when he leaned in. You could know his jokes and still not know whether his energy in person matched the life he had been curating online.
That mismatch had become the whole problem.
I set the phone down and reached for my liner.
By the time I finished my face, slipped into the dress, fastened my bracelet, slid my hoops into my ears, and stacked my rings on my fingers, it was a little after seven.
I stepped into my heels last.
I looked like a woman somebody should take seriously and touch carefully. That was enough for me.
Kendra called right on cue as I grabbed my clutch.
“Tell me you dressed.”
“I’m dressed.”
“Tell me you look good.”
“Kendra…Ialwayslook good.”
She laughed low. “I know that’s right.”
I moved through the downstairs, cutting lights off one by one but leaving the one near the foyer lit. “You doing the absolute most.”
“No, I’m doing what friends are supposed to do when one of them starts acting like a beautiful recluse with trust issues.”
“I do not have trust issues.”
“You have pattern recognition.”
“That sounds better.”
“I know.” I could hear traffic behind her, trap music low in her car. “You leaving now?”
“About to.”
“Good. And don’t get down there acting fake shy. I’m not saying marry nobody. I’m saying come outside and let life look at you.”
I paused with my hand on the doorknob.
For a second, the house went still around me. The city beyond my windows was sliding into night. Somewhere downtown, a room full of familiar strangers was gathering under low light, good liquor, expensive perfume, and all the little hopes people pretended not to bring with them.
I adjusted my grip on my clutch and locked the door behind me.
“I’m just going for a drink,” I said.
Kendra laughed like she knew better. Maybe she did.
I took the elevator down, stepped into the garage, and crossed to my Lexus with the kind of calm I’d spent years cultivating. The engine turned over smoothly. Destiny’s Childstarted bumping. My hands settled on the wheel, lavender against leather.
As I pulled out into the evening, I told myself I was heading toward a room. Not a moment. Not a man. Not anything with the power to shift me. Just a room.
Still, somewhere under the silk of my dress and the gloss on my mouth, something hopeful opened anyway.
two
