Maggie stepped to my right, grabbing my curling iron and taking it to her blonde hair as if every piece weren’t already lying exactly where it should be.
“I thought we decided you were going with the denim jumpsuit? That jumpsuit is a statement, and you need to make a statement… Why the change?”
“The jumpsuitisa statement and that’s the problem…” I said, dropping my makeup on the counter and shimmying to my closet. “Because this hat needed to be the statement.”
Her eyes widened. “Where did you get that?”
“It’s literally perfect, isn’t it? It was a gift from Wilson; it got delivered this afternoon. There was no way I was showing up tonight not wearing this hat.”
“I mean, absolutely not. That hat is incredible. Let me see.”
I handed it over and watched as she inspected the entire thing.
“This is so thoughtful. What a sweet man,” she said, placing the hat on her head. “Kinda jealous Wilson’s never got me a custom hat.”
“Maybe you should write an article about him.”
“Definitely not. Have you read my writing?”
“Ha. You’re not wrong,” I said.
“Okay, so what did you decide to wear instead? You have to look perfect. It’s your big night, and you just never know who might show up.” The corner of her mouth tugged up.
We both knew exactly whomightshow up. We sort of hoped he would, but we would absolutely never say that out loud.
And by we, I meant me.
I hadn’t seen Stetson since that day at Rolling Meadows a couple of weeks ago. While I’d stayed busy with the article and everything else that came with a new job, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about him and the conversations we’d shared. Or thought about what he was doing and how it was possible with how much I’d been out and about that I hadn’t run into him at least once.
“I think I’m gonna wear this,” I said, coming back into the bathroom in a cream-colored strapless chiffon dress. The dress was decorated with muted pale pink flowers and greenery. “With this.” I snagged my hazel suede jacket from the doorknob.
“Okay, love. With that hat. It’s perfect.”
Her affirmation was exactly what I was looking for and brought a blanket of confidence that I desperately needed on a night like tonight.
“What time is it?” I asked.
“Six forty-five. Think we’ve got time for a glass of celebratory champagne?”
“We’ve always got time for champagne.”
“I don’t know why, but my heart is beating out of my chest right now,” I said, putting my hand against the rhythm.
“Are you serious?” Maggie tilted her head in disbelief. “You wrote an incredible article about an incredible place and now the whole town gets to celebrate it. And while I hate to bring up the past, the last time everyone was talking about you was because you were the headline, not because you wrote it.”
“Hey!” I playfully whacked her arm. “Although, I guess you’re right.”
“I’m sorry, but I had to.” She laughed.
“You’re lucky I love you.”
We linked arms, both for moral support and for warmth.
The Tennessee December weather was proving to be a little more winterlike than we were used to. Even the air smelled of Christmas; a little smokey and a whole helluva lot like a pine tree farm.
“Brr.” Maggie gripped my arm tighter.
“I know, damn.”
