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What?! No!
Tate: Luke, I’m happy to join. It’ll be fun. We can snap a picture and send it to Mom and Dad. They’ll love to see us all dolled up. Chloe, you’re so sweet, but no need to send stuff over, I promise. I have a black dress that should work just fine!
I get home from work close to 7:30 PM that night, and I go to push the front door open only to find it won’t go all the way in. There’s something blocking it from the other side.
I push harder and squeeze through the small gap just as I call out, “Uhhh…guys? What’s—”
There’s no need to finish my question about what’s blocking the door. It’s a huge clothing rack set up in the hallway that leads from our minuscule foyer into our minuscule living room with no less than a dozen dresses hanging in individual garment bags. Shoe boxes are stacked up underneath, enough that they’re overflowing everywhere into the apartment. I recognize the designer names—Louboutin, Jimmy Choo, Manolo Blahnik—but I’ve never owned a pair of any of them. The dependable high heels I have in my closet are all from DSW or Macy’s.
Sophia leaps off the couch and calls out, “Daphne! She’s here!”
“NO! DO NOT LET HER START WITHOUT ME!” Daphne shouts frantically from her room. A second later, she flings the door open and comes flying out in a towel with soap suds slipping down her hair and face. She’s still clutching her razor in her right hand.
I laugh as I slide my hospital bag off my shoulders. “Relax. I just got home. I’m not starting anything.”
“What is all this stuff?!” Sophia asks, going over to flip through the garment bags.
“I mean we know what it is…” Daphne admits. “We looked through everything already, obviously. But why did some Devil Wears Prada fashionista drop this stuff off for you earlier?”
“Yeah, are you like rich now?” Sophia asks like this is a serious inquiry.
Daphne chimes in again, her mouth gaping with shock. “Oh god! It just now occurred to me. I know what this is—you signed a sex contract with a billionaire, didn’t you? And now he’s going to like take over your life and control how you dress and do weird stuff. I read a book like that once.”
Sophia levels Daphne with an unamused glare. “Once? Your Kindle is riddled with variations of that same story.”
Daphne smiles and shoots her a wink. “What can I say…I enjoy a good billionaire kink fest.”
Oh good grief.
“The dresses and shoes are from Luke.”
They’re both crestfallen at this news.
“Ugh, your brother?” Daphne’s shoulders slump. “That’s so boring.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m doing him a favor and going with him to a fundraiser tomorrow night. He told me to get a dress, but I don’t have time to go shopping between now and then, so Chloe had all this stuff sent over so I could pick something to wear.”
“God, I wish I had a cool sister like that.”
Sophia tosses her hands up. “I’m right here.”
“Oh sorry. You’re great. I just meant hypothetically.”
I laugh on my way toward the kitchen, in need of dinner, stat.
“Wait!” Sophia leans off the couch. “Aren’t you going to look at the stuff?! We want a fashion show!”
“Yeah, we’ve already taken inventory and there’s a silver dress that would look amazing on you. Though we would also accept the strapless blue one.”
I look back over my shoulder at them. “Okay, well Daphne, you’re currently dripping water on the floor and you still have conditioner in your hair, so why don’t I get some food while you finish your shower and then after, we’ll decide what I’ll wear tomorrow. Deal?”
“Deal!”
SIXTEEN
GRANT
I’m admittedly not a tuxedo guy. I’ve spent most of my life in baseball uniforms and workout clothes. This tuxedo fits like a glove though, which isn’t shocking considering I had it custom-made. Dustin pressured me into it. A month ago, he took me to a tailor in the city.
“He’s my guy,” he said like some hotshot.
I thought I was going to walk out with the tuxedo that day.
When I told him this, Dustin looked at me like I’d just hobbled out of a trailer park. “No, you swine. He’s taking your measurements today. That’s it. Where did you grow up again?”
I shot him my middle finger. “In a one-bedroom apartment with a mechanic for a dad. I don’t think I’d even seen a tuxedo until I was an adult.”
“Don’t pull that ‘woe is me’ crap. You’ve made plenty of money for plenty of years. I know, because so have I. Didn’t you need a tuxedo when you were playing down in Miami?”
I shrugged. “I just rented them.”
You would have thought I’d just admitted to killing his beloved family pet with the way he looked at me.
“Well now you’ll never want to rent again. Today, this guy will take your measurements for a custom tuxedo and a few suits. You can tell him what colors you like, but he’ll end up choosing the fabric and cut. Just roll with it. He’s a magician.”
