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“Yes, no problem. That will be about ten minutes.”
“Thank you.” I hang up, and with a twirl of happiness I flop onto the bed.
* * *
I stand in the mirror and look at my reflection. He was right, this pretty pink dress is amazing, although something that I would have never picked for myself. It’s feminine and yet sexy. I have nude, strappy stilettos on and I’m pimped to the nines. My long, dark hair is straightened and I have smoky eye makeup with pink glossy lips. My fingers and toenails are manicured and painted.
I look good, I know I look good… but then that could just be because I looked like total shit for the last two weeks. Who could tell?
The only thing missing is perfume, but Stace picked my deodorant so I guess that will have to do. I sniff my underarms and shrug. Smells okay, I suppose. He seemed to like it.
I stare at my reflection.
This is it. Unlike any date I have ever been on before, there are no preconceived ideas. I know for certain that I will never see him again after tonight. Butterflies rise in my stomach. Maybe that’s why it feels so important.
This is all we have.
This night is all we will ever have. I want to make it good for him.
I close my eyes as reality sets in.
I desperately want my memory of him to be happy and good, because that’s what I feel he could have been if he hadn’t got…
I cut myself off. Stop it, you idiot.
He is a criminal and you have one night. Stop thinking, stop fucking feeling, and look at it for what it really is.
My thoughts are interrupted by his knock on the door. I put my hand on my stomach to calm my nerves and take one last look in the mirror.
Go time.
I open the door and there he stands, six foot four in a navy dinner suit and dress shoes. His sandy curls are styled, and he is clean-shaven. My eyebrows rise by themselves as I inhale his heavenly scent.
He wore a suit. Oh my God, he wore a suit.
He must have gone out and bought it after we organized our date. The night is perfect already.
“Hello.” He smirks.
I smile broadly. “Hello.” The electricity zaps between us.
His eyes drop down my body. “You look beautiful,” he whispers.
My poor heart won’t be able to bear much of this, and unable to speak, I smile goofily. He makes me giddy.
“Are you ready to go?” he asks.
I smile and grab my bag and he leads me out into the corridor.
* * *
The restaurant is dark and moody with candlelit tables. We are seated in the alfresco area in the courtyard that sits between two tall buildings. Fairy lights are hanging diagonally above us from building to building creating a romantic canopy. Large plants in pots are surrounding the border. We held hands as we walked all the way here, deep in discussion about our surroundings. It seems Stace is quite the Google traveler and could tell me all about the scenery and buildings as we passed them. Salsa music is piping throughout the space and the crowd are all late twenties and above. Loud, relaxed chatter echoes all around.
“Thank you.” I smile to the waiter as he fills my glass with champagne. He then fills Stace’s.
I hold my glass up. “A toast.”
He brings his glass up to meet mine.
