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“You should go,” Billy says as I stare at my phone.
“You heard all that, huh?”
“Scarlett’s always been loud.” Billy smiles, rests his head back on the pillow and closes his eyes, reaching for my hand blindly. I give it to him, and he squeezes. “Go and enjoy yourself, please. It sounds like Scarlett really needs you.”
And you don’t.
I bring my phone to my mouth and nibble on the corner, assessing his condition. He looks content, almost happy at the thought of me going out and enjoying myself. Not that I will. How could I?
“I won’t be late,” I assure him, kissing the back of his hand before resting it gently back on the bed. He doesn’t answer that, and I back out of the room, opening an email when it pings, finding the invitation. It’s at the Royal Opera House. Doors open at eight and the dress code states formal. What does formal mean these days? In a panic, I run to my wardrobe and scan the rails. Goodness, I have limited options. I pull out a little black dress that hasn’t seen the light of day for years.
It’s my only choice. Laying it on my bed, I take care of problem number two. My plus-one. Luke flits through my mind fleetingly—how I’d love to ask him to come. Why can’t I? After all, he’s kind of my only option. I pull his number up and dial, and he answers immediately.
“Hey, you.”
“Hi,” I chirp, wandering to the bathroom to flip on the shower. “Are you busy tonight?”
I hear him sigh, and that in itself gives me my answer. Of course he’s busy. “Lo, I have a business thing that I really can’t get out of.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” I rush to ease him.
“Tomorrow? We’ll walk the mutts.”
“Deal.” I smile and say my goodbye, hanging up and thinking. I don’t want to go alone. I’ll be standing around like a plum all night. Scrolling through my contacts, I stop on the only other person that’s a possibility, and dial.
“Hello?”
“It’s Lo.” There’s a long pause, and I know it’s because he’s wondering what on earth I’d be calling for. “I need a favor.”
“You do?” Matthew asks, sounding as intrigued as I would expect him to.
“Want to be my date?”
“Huh?”
I drop to my arse on the bed. “Scarlett’s asked me to fill her place at the charity gala tonight. The invite is for two.”
“So you called me?” Understandably, the tech guy from work, a complete hermit, is stunned.
“Yes. What do you say?” I mentally beg for Matthew to accept, dreading the prospect of going alone. “Please?”
“Oh, all right, then,” he mutters. “But only because it’s you and I don’t want to be the cause for further misery in your life.”
I recoil, completely stunned. “Wow.”
“Did I say that out loud?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Oh, sorry. What’s the dress code?”
“Formal. Pick you up in a cab in an hour.” I hang up and get myself ready.
Glancing at Matthew as we approach a waitress, I shake my head again, totally dismayed. “What?” he asks, taking two drinks from the tray and handing one over.
“I’m just wondering where you got that suit from.” I gesture to his velvet-clad body, all the way down to his black patent, super pointy shoes.
“You said formal.”
“Yes, formal in 2017, not formal in 1970. When was the last time you wore it?”
“1978.”
I laugh and take a sip of my champagne as we wander through the crowds, greeting people as we go, shaking the odd hand and introducing ourselves. “This is a classic suit,” Matthew argues.
“Classically dreadful.” I quip. “You look like Austin Powers gone wrong.”
“Well, I’m here. Just be thankful.”
“I am. Thank you.” I clink my glass with his. “Scarlett donated a prize to the auction. I need to find one of the organizers to make sure it arrived.”
“How’d we know who the organizers are?”
“They’re wearing huge sashes with Piper Foundation sprawled across it. Shouldn’t be hard.” I lift on my tippy-toes and scan the crowds. “Oh, I see one.” I grab Matthew’s hand and pull him through the crowd to a table at the back where a group of sash-clad women are gathered. “Hello, my name is Lo Harper from Red Well.”
“Oh, hello,” a red-haired lady in a garish green and red gown coos. “I’m Hilda, events coordinator. Where’s Scarlett?”
“She told me to apologize profusely for her absence. There was a family emergency, and I’ve come in her place. Did her donation for the auction arrive?”
Hilda scans a spreadsheet on the table before her. “Oh yes, there it is. One of those iPhone thingamajigs, how lovely!” She looks to Matthew with a big grin. “And you must be the other prize.” Her eyes drop down his velvet-clad body. “For the more mature ladies, perhaps.”
I frown and look back at Matthew. He looks as equally confused as me. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
