Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 66431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
“I hope so. I mean, I already am, so I don’t see why I won’t later.”
“Just don’t get jealous when other hot girls hug your man and stuff. Because they probably will. But you have nothing to worry about. I’ve seen the dress, and it’s ridiculously gorgeous. You’ll probably get hit on a lot.”
“No, I won’t, but you’re sweet for saying so. I have about an hour to get into this dress.”
“Didn’t you overbudget your time?”
“No. I still have to sew part of it.”
Stella frowns at me. “Why didn’t you just take a dress that’s finished?”
“Because I like this one. And I didn’t procrastinate. It’s supposed to be that way, so it fits just perfectly. You never know when you’ll have an extra five pounds of water weight or decide to eat cake for breakfast or something.”
“God, you’re smart,” Stella says. “I’m just going to hire you to follow me around and adjust my wardrobe accordingly so I can have cake for breakfast.”
I laugh and choose a lipstick. “I bet I could make a lot of money if I offered that as a service.”
“Right? Not that you don’t make plenty of money now.”
“Well, that’s true. Okay, thanks for chatting with me. It helps the nerves, you know?”
“Does Vaughn make you nervous?”
“In all the good ways,” I assure her. “I’ll see you tomorrow when I get home and tell you all about it.”
“Every. Single. Detail. Every one of them, Livie, and I mean it.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t forget anything. Okay, see you later.”
“Love you.”
I blow her a kiss and end the call, then turn to the dress hanging in Vaughn’s enormous closet.
A closet the size of Rhode Island that isn’t even half full of his things.
“Okay, come to Mama.”
An hour later, after too many moments of cursing and sewing, ripping and resewing, I think I’m ready.
This dress, every stitch of it, is finally done.
I only drew blood twice.
Which isn’t bad, really, given that part of it was sewn while on my body.
I run my hands down my hips and give myself a good study in the mirror.
It’s a mermaid silhouette in cranberry red. Spaghetti straps hold up the bodice, which molds to my breasts and back and down around my hips. Nothing else is fitting in here, I’ll tell you that.
At my knees, the dress loosens into flowing waves.
I’ve completed the look with black Louboutin heels and a diamond necklace that my parents gave me when I graduated from college.
“Holy fuck.”
My eyes lift in the mirror, and I find Vaughn standing behind me in a nicely fitted black suit, red tie, and a stupefied look on his face.
I turn to face him and hold my hands out at my sides. “Here it is.”
He swallows hard and then steps to me. “I don’t think we can go.”
“What?” I look down at my dress and then back up at him. “Did I misread what I should wear? I just assumed since you’re in a suit, that I should wear something more formal, but I can make some adjustments, take off the mermaid skirt and shorten it up to make it less fancy if you think that’s better.”
“The dress is…shit, it should come with a damn warning label. It’s absolutely gorgeous. We can’t go because I won’t be able to take my eyes off you, and I’m supposed to give a speech. I’ll fuck everything up.”
Everything in me goes gooey.
“You’re a professional,” I remind him and cup his face, his clean-shaven face in my hands. “You’re going to do great. I’m just the date. Besides, you’re so freaking handsome you almost make me nervous.”
“Why?”
“Have you seen you?” I counter and make him laugh. It’s good to see his shoulders relax.
“I’ll be the luckiest man in that room tonight,” he says and kisses my cheek. “And we should probably go.”
“I’m ready.” I reach for my clutch, which only has my lipstick, debit card, identification, and phone inside. “Lead the way.”
“I hired a car for tonight,” he says as we descend the stairs. “It’s just easier. I don’t plan to drink, but this way, I don’t have to fuck around with parking.”
“Makes sense. You don’t drink at these things?”
“I don’t, no. I like to stay in control. Although cameras aren’t allowed, you just never know who’s listening or watching, and I like that I have a pretty decent reputation in this business—despite my parents.”
“I can see that,” I say and smile at the driver, who opens the limo door for us. “Thank you.”
“Miss,” he says and tips his hat. “Sir.”
The drive to the venue takes almost an hour, but I don’t mind, as I enjoy looking out the window at everything passing by. Vaughn points out landmarks and tells me stories of memories of the city.
When we arrive, I see that Vaughn was right. No paparazzi wait with cameras poised as we exit the car—no red carpet. In fact, it looks as if we’re entering from the rear of the building.