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Sarah beams with pride and strokes the soft dress as I lay it on the bed beside her and put away my other options. Then it’s time for hair and makeup. Sarah follows me into the bathroom, climbing up onto the vanity stool to watch as I lean over the counter to apply eyeshadow.
“Pretty,” she observes as I add a thin wing of eyeliner at either corner of my eyes.
“Did you want to try some makeup on tonight?” I ask her, a smile splitting my face.
Sarah nods in wide-eyed wonder then scrambles to sit on the vanity stool.
I carefully select a few child-friendly makeup items from my own collection, including a purple eyeshadow, some blush, and a touch of lip gloss.
“Close your eyes for me,” I instruct, bending with my eyeshadow brush in hand.
Sarah does as she’s told, trying to hold perfectly still and watch me even as she tries to keep her eyes shut. But the task seems fairly impossible, and I barely manage to get a swipe of color onto each lid before she’s peering at her reflection in the mirror.
Next comes the blush, and Sarah watches with rapt attention as I apply a small amount to her rosy cheeks. Her giggles fill the room, and I can’t help but feel a surge of maternal love as her shoulders creep toward her ears.
“Does that tickle?” I ask.
“Yeah!” She giggles, wriggling harder as I use the brush to tickle her nose and neck.
Zoe watches from the doorway, her shoulder pressed against the door jamb as she makes a valiant effort not to laugh. When we finish Sarah’s look with a swipe of lip gloss, she turns around to show off to our patient witness.
“Auntie Zoe, look. I’m pretty like Mommy,” Sarah says, her voice filled with awe.
I nod in agreement, my heart swelling with affection.
“You look absolutely beautiful, sweetheart,” Zoe agrees.
Disinterested in the styling of my hair, Sarah gets Zoe to make her a snack before dinner, and I focus my attention on curling my hair into gentle waves. Then I slip into my green cocktail dress.
It fits me like a glove, the soft fabric like water over my curves as it follows the lines of my body and tapers into a subtle train. My favorite part of the dress is the back. The silk is cut low, stopping at the base of my spine, but a delicate green lace forms an elegant diamond-shaped panel that starts where the silk leaves off and rises to form something of a racer back that showcases my shoulder blades.
With the final touches in place, I check my reflection one last time, and a newfound confidence washes over me. Tonight is just dinner. I can do this. I can have fun and keep it casual. I want to because I’m not quite ready for my time with Maks to end, and he’s made it very clear that catching feelings is a sure way to end our agreement fast.
Stepping out of my bedroom, I head to the kitchen and am rewarded by a soft gasp from Zoe. Her eyes sparkle as she admires my outfit—all the way down to the strappy black heels that I lift my skirt to showcase.
“He’s going to love you in that,” she observes.
“Who is?” Sarah asks, making my stomach drop uncomfortably.
Zoe cringes, her eyes apologetic as she hands the reins over to me.
“Mommy’s having dinner with a friend tonight, Sarah. So you and Auntie Zoe can have a very special sleepover together. Just the two of you.”
Sarah’s eyes widen in shock, and she forgets all about the tangerine on her plate as she bounces excitedly. “We’re having a seep-over!” she informs Zoe, though Zoe has been sitting next to her this whole time.
Zoe chuckles, her eyes twinkling. “That’s right. We’ll have so much fun.”
“And I’ll be there to pick you up from school tomorrow. Okay?”
“Okay!” Sarah agrees, seeming far too excited about the new adventure to be thinking about missing me.
Smiling softly, I walk across the room to press a kiss to the top of her head. I only hopeI’mready to spend an entire night without my daughter. I sure hope so.
25
MAKSIM
The evening air is crisp as I step onto the rooftop of my apartment building, my chest full of an excitement I haven’t felt in a long time. The helipad stretches out before me, its surface gleaming under the soft glow of the city lights. The helicopter blades whir above, casting long shadows across the concrete.
