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The last person I want to call is Gio’s mother. She’ll see through me immediately. I can’t play the happy fiancée in front of her, especially since I don’t even know where her son is. She looked suspicious yesterday as it was.
“Okay, I’ll do that, but is it necessary to get a designer for the gala you mentioned? Can’t I just get something from Haughty…”Shit. “From the Saks shopper person?”
“I’ll mark in the calendar which events are not necessarily off-the-rack occasions. If you don’t have a favorite designer, just get the concierge on it. They might coordinate with our PR department to see who you should wear.”
“Yes, I’ll do that.”
This would be a dream if it wasn’t a nightmare. The surreal conversation with Lydia continues for a few more minutes while I get better acquainted with the sharp turn my life has taken.
When we hang up, I force myself to focus on one thing. Gio made a reservation for lunch on Friday. It’s not a date, but it’s a start. His initiative to spend time together outside of our official schedule.
The knowledge lingers, wrapped in hope as I walk out of the suite with my engagement dress, my dignity and my heart swept under the bed.
* * *
“I don’t know why you’re such a mess.” Annie shakes her head. “It’s not like it’s your first date.”
I prop the phone against a book on the shelf, so she can still see me while I show her the selection of dresses.
“Annie, I want to look my best. Help me here.” I didn’t sleep all night thinking about today’s lunch. I even went as far as getting a stylist, who is coming in an hour to get me ready for my first meal with my fiancé.
It’s a daytime meeting, but I’m determined to make him salivate. To make him want me. To remember who we can be together. This time, I won’t let him fuck me. He’ll have to work for it.
It might be all backward, but I’m going to seduce my fiancé and then let him yearn. Hopefully he misses me enough to remember how good we used to be. Enough to continue where we left off a month ago.
Or I’m just hopelessly naïve. The only one determined to fight for this relationship.
“Why didn’t you buy a new dress then?” Annie shrugs.
“It felt weird to spend his money on a dress to have lunch withhim.” I bite my lower lip, hearing the ridiculousness of my statement. Desperate, I can’t seem to find my dignity, or my functioning brain.
“You could use your money. Especially now, whenallof us are spending his money.” She sighs. “But I get what you’re saying. I just—” Her sigh turns into a sob.
Ron comes into view and wraps his arms around Annie. “Please, Mila, can you tell your sister she needs to chill about this?” He kisses the crown of her head. “Stress is not good for you, baby,” he whispers into her hair.
“Ron is right. It’s done, and I’m excited about my lunch today, so can you snap out of it and help me?” I channel all the confidence I don’t have into my words. I might be dying slowly, but I won’t have my sister suffer. One tormented Ward is enough.
“Go with the red,” Ron says, and ambles away.
“Isn’t that too bold?” I haven’t worn the red sheath retro dress since I arrived in New York. It’s classic, chic, and sexy. Ron might be onto something.
“You want bold. That dress shows enough cleavage to tempt, but isn’t vulgar. It hugs your ass and suits you well. Go with the red, but tame it down with simple black shoes, and no jewelry. Get your hair done and wear minimal makeup.”
I haven’t heard from Gio for the entire week. I wrote to him several times, but I’ve sent none of the messages. I don’t want to sound needy and clingy. Staying in touch is not in our deal, and if he wanted to hear from me, he could have at least let me know where he was.
Our communication has been channeled through Lydia or other people on Gio’s staff. After my things were picked up a few days ago, I helped Annie pack. She will leave her apartment at the end of the month.
Gio insisted she move to one of his properties instead of sending the increased rent to our landlord. Annie would have been more comfortable staying with the kids where they are, but we lost—temporarily, I hope—the ability to make these decisions.
The worst part is, I know Gio means well. He wants the best for Annie and the kids. Just like with her healthcare providers.
But in his fashion, he forgot to ask, to consider our needs.
Good intentions, wrong actions, again.
Though perhaps at this point he doesn’t care enough and just does what’s simplest for him.
I carry the dress and all I need from the walk-in closet in the master bedroom to the guest room where I’ve been staying. Not sure what the staff thinks about that, but I don’t have the energy to contemplate their judgment.
