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Lourde laughed. “Ask any Manhattan woman, and I swear she knows someone that’s slept with my brother.”
“Ha.” A nervous laugh escaped my lips. Hell, I knew that part was true. Still, it stung, thinking Connor had bedded half of Manhattan. But what right did I have over him?
“Pepper?”
“I’m here,” I said, shaking my head.
“So, Thursday, Farrah Goldsmith’s haute couture launch… I’ve got tickets for all of us… bring Jake if you want. I’ll get him a ticket.”
“Okay.” I rolled my eyes, succumbing to her request.
She squealed so loudly that I had to pull the receiver away from my ear.
“You knew you’d get me to come along, didn’t you?”
She laughed, and I growled, hanging up the phone with a smile.
* * *
Thursday evening rolled around slowly. I hadn’t seen Jake since our date, or rather, double date, where I kissed Connor in the bathroom stall. My hand dragged up to my bottom lip, remembering his lingering touch.
Stop it.I slapped my thigh. I’m going to give Jake my full, unbridled attention tonight. It’s all or nothing, and I’m all in. Jake deserves that, and so does Francesca. I never intended to be the other woman, and clearly, this had turned out to be one fucked-up love triangle or rectangle. Heck, who knows what shape we were in?
“What are you doing in there?” Olivia said, banging on the toilet door.
“I’m coming, geez!”
I opened the door, and Olivia and Lourde were touching up their lip gloss in the mirror.
“It’s about to start!” Lourde said, blotting on some cherry-red lip gloss.
“This dress, I don’t know if it works.” Olivia turned around, so her exposed back appeared in the mirror.
“Honey, you could be up there modeling with that dress and those legs.” I walked toward the sink and washed my hands.
“Says you, who is some kind of curvaceous specimen of the gods!”
I laughed hysterically.
“Olivia’s right. How can someone show zero skin and steal the show?” Lourde nodded, eyeing me up and down.
I looked at my reflection. Wearing a lilac floor-length gown with long sleeves, the only skin on display was my face—hair pulled back into a chignon with some loose curls on either side of my face. The dress was tighter than a virgin on prom night. Thank God for Casey Jones, my relentless personal trainer. When I strive toward the finish line, she pushes me well past it.
“Does Jake love it?” Olivia asked, tugging at a wayward blond strand of hair and fixing it into place.
“He thinks I should show off my best assets.”
“What, tits and ass?” Olivia stopped and stared at my reflection in the mirror, popping an eyebrow in disgust.
“Exactly.”
“Such a guy.” Lourde giggled. “They’re all the same.”
“Are they?” I dried my hands, then reached for my nude gloss stick, layering it on in one slick motion knowing Jake wouldn’t kiss me with it on.
“Come on... we can’t miss the start. I think The Weeknd is about to perform.” Olivia motioned for the exit, and we filed out with the click of our heels against the tiled floor.
“Have you seen my brother? I thought he was coming tonight,” Lourde whispered as we walked through the crowd, finding our seats in the front row.
