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“What?”
“We won’t let this moment be awkward for us.”
I smile. “I promise. After the party, we’ll go grab dinner for real, sit down, and just talk. I want to spend so much time talking with you. In person, I mean.”
“Then we’ll make it happen. We’ll talk about anything and everything you want. I promise.”
Hearing his promise makes me swoon all over again. “I’m really excited for Friday.”
“I am, too. I’ve been thinking about it all week long. I even had a dream about it,” he says.
“Really?”
“Yeah. We hit it off perfectly. But I doubt that means much because there was also an alien invasion on the terrace and everyone got abducted. We had our first date on a spaceship.”
“Make that your next book,” I tease.
“We’ll see. I’ll talk to you on Friday, okay?”
“Okay.”
I’m reluctant to end the call, but I know I have to get back to work. There are still so many things I need to get done, and as much as I’d like to sit around and talk to Liam all day, my head needs to be in the game.
Once I’m in the zone, I end up getting quite a bit accomplished. By three, I’ve finally managed to clear my inbox, and I’ve even proofread two shorter e-books, checking for any mistakes before they go live on Midnight’s website. When I have a moment to myself, I decide it’s time to start preparing for the party.
I stop by Kristen’s office and let her know I’m going home early. When I have her permission to leave, I head to my favorite little boutique not too far from my apartment. They always have a great selection of dressy clothing. For thirty minutes, I peruse, checking out everything. Green looks good on me, but I know the event is leaning more toward black and white. I settle on a beautiful deep navy dress with a sweetheart neckline that shows off my collar bones and shoulders.
I have a large diamond necklace at home that will pair perfectly with it. The lady at the counter takes my card, then folds the dress and slips it into the bag. On my way out, I give a little wave and head home.
Planning for events isn’t my style, but I excel at planning outfits. Rather than waiting until the night of to style the dress, I change out of my work clothes and put it on, checking myself out in the full-length mirror in my bedroom. I try on various shoes, a little unsure which pair looks best on me. With a bit of help from Britney, we decide on a pair of black peep toe heels and a matching navy color polish for my toes.
Once my jewelry is all picked out, I fold everything up and set it on top of the dresser, so I know where it all is. I turn to face the mirror, slowly taking a step closer. There’s something different about the way I look, but I can’t place it. When I lean in, I don’t see anything immediately new. No sudden wrinkles or stray gray hairs anywhere. But the longer I stare at my reflection, the more I can see that it’s not something on the outside that’s changed. It’s something inside, something going on in my head, that’s made such a big difference.
It’s Liam, and this relationship we’ve started if that’s what I can call it. It’s the happiness I feel with him, the way we can talk about anything under the sun and I won’t have to worry about him judging me. The way he looks at me on his screen, with full attention and a hint of his dark desires just beyond the horizon.
I haven’t known him for very long, but if every moment with him is like this, I think I might be able to get used to him.
Trying not to let myself get too sentimental or cheesy, I turn around and cross my room. I collapse on the bed and sigh. This entire whirlwind is about to get wilder. I can feel it. Meeting Liam in person is going to change everything, and I can’t wait.
I can’t wait.
7
Liam
Parties have never been something I’m all that interested in. Whenever I drink, I prefer to do it a home, where I can relax and not have to worry about someone getting so wasted that they can barely walk. But this party is different. It’s not some regular house party with a few old friends from college. It’s work-related but more important than that, it’s Harlow-related. I’ll be meeting her in person for the first time.
Giddy is too childish of a word, but it seems to be the perfect way I’d describe how I feel picking up my tailored suit. Giddy because I’m finally meeting the woman I’ve had dirty Skype sessions with. Giddy because she’s going to be something real, something tangible that I can get my hands on. It’s embarrassing how much I’ve been looking forward to this night.
When I return home from the shop, I shower and shave, trimming up every last hair on my face. I want to make the best impression, not look like I haven’t been keeping up with my hygiene. After the lines of my beard are crisp and all the loose, wiry hairs have been taken care of, I wash up in the shower and dry off. I slick my hair back with a little styling gel, nodding when I’ve found the perfect hairdo.
Suits aren’t my favorite either, but I won’t pretend I don’t look pretty damn dapper in one. I turn around in the hotel bathroom, looking over myself with satisfaction. There’s no way Harlow’s going to think I regularly spend w
eeks in the woods without much outside contact. I promised her I’d look like a regular old pretty boy, and I do. I grab my phone and wallet and turn off the lights on my way out.
There’s a car waiting for me when I get down, and I apologize to the driver for being a little late. As he pulls from the curb, I sit back in my seat and look through some of the social media accounts of the people attending the party. As expected, there are tons of pictures of the event, authors smiling with their agents and the CEO of Hart Publishing giving a small toast. Though the party only started an hour ago, it looks as though they’ve really kicked it off.
As I begin to scroll through more, my phone buzzes and Harlow’s name pops up on screen. “Evening, beautiful,” I say.
