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But this one was the best of them all. It had been a splurge I’d made a year or so ago. Back when, for a short period of time, things seemed to be turning around for me. Money wasn’t as tight. Bills were paid. Almost on time. The weight that had been pressing me deeper and deeper into the ground, day by day, had lightened.
So I’d gone into the store where I’d seen the dress in the window, and I’d tried it on and bought it.
I regretted it a month later, but it had been too late to return in by then.
Now I was glad I didn’t get the chance, regardless of how much stress the purchase had caused at the time.
It was buttery on my skin as I slid it on. It was the perfect fit, sliding over my curves without hugging them too much. The neck scooped, but not enough to show cleavage. The skirt was almost demure, falling to my knee. But there was a slit up the thigh that kept it sexy without being too much.
My shoes weren’t nearly as nice as the dress. Just simple black heels that I’d gotten on clearance that gave me blisters after a few hours. I daubed some anti-chafing gel onto my heels and hoped for the best before working my hair into a sleeker style, put on some subtle makeup, spritzed on some perfume, then checked out the look in the mirror as excitement sizzled across my nerve endings.
“You boys be good, now,” I said to Billy and Joel. “I will be back in a few hours with another feeding, okay?”
They were at the beginning stages of weaning, so I wasn’t worried about leaving them if we ran a little longer. They would be okay.
“Mommy is going to go have some fun.”
For the first time in my sad little life, really.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Emilio
Lorenzo and I had just gotten back from a meeting with the Family’s attorney.
And shit wasn’t looking good.
The kind of “not good” that might mean twenty-five-to-life.
Shit was heavy.
I was feeling it with each step I took.
Then there was Avery, sensing it, working to relieve it. Making me laugh when I didn’t think it would be possible again. At least not until the trial was over. Maybe even months after that, depending on how it went.
She was making everything in life feel better, easier.
I wanted more of it.
I wanted everything I could get with Avery.
The idea of taking her out, having some fun, it was the most excitement I’d had in years.
I heard her heels clicking across the floor upstairs, feeling my lips turn up, realizing I would love a lifetime of hearing that.
The smile only stretched wider when I heard a stumble as she got to the steps, then a muffled curse as she righted herself.
She was perfect.
But not too perfect.
My heartbeat was thrumming in my chest as I stood in the doorway to the dining room, waiting for her.
The anticipation was nothing compared to the kick-in-the-chest sensation I felt as she finally came into view in that black dress that skirted her curves, but left just enough to the imagination.
Her hair, always just a little wavy, a bit disheveled, was straightened to fall in sleek waves, framing her face that she’d added just a little makeup to.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I said as she stood there at the landing, shifting her feet under my inspection.
“Told you I can clean up,” she said, giving me a smile that wobbled just the tiniest bit, a hint of insecurity. “So, take me out,” she said, waving toward the door.
Fucking gladly.
I decided against using my car or the SUVs and drivers that the Family always had on call.
Just for the night, we were going to be normal men and women out on a date in the city.
So I hailed a cab, and we climbed inside, heading toward a restaurant that we ended up choosing solely based on the outdoor “vibes,” as Avery put it.
“Um, okay, I will be the one to say it,” she said when I was paying the bill. When I looked up, her lips were twitching. “I’m still hungry.”
She would be.
Because the “vibes” may have been on point, but it ended up being one of those places that put a tiny sliver of meat and two baby carrots on a plate and called it a meal.
“I know the feeling,” I agreed.
“How about… we get something greasy and portable, and eat while we window shop?” she suggested.
“Window shop?” I asked as we made our way out of the restaurant that likely wouldn’t be around longer than a few months.
That was the city, ever changing.
Especially when the menu left so much to be desired.
My mother would be horrified if someone left her table hungry, unsatisfied, and seeking out fast food.
Restaurants, I decided, should look at each customer like close family at their table. They needed to leave fat and happy.
