Page 45 of Sweeter Than Fiction

He narrows his eyes on me. “Are you serious? I don’t think baggy sweats and holy t-shirts are going to cut it.”

“I have other clothes,” I defend.

“That aren’t leggings or old jeans?”

Alright, he’s got a point. “Fine. What do you have?”

He holds up a red dress.

“No,” I immediately say.

“Why not?”

“Because when I inevitably embarrass myself—which we both know I will—my face will match my dress.”

“Good point. No red.”

Next, he holds up a white one.

“Really?” I ask. “I’ll get stuff all over me.”

“Okay, no white.”

“Haven’t you learned by now that I’m a hopeless cause?”

“Oh, hush. You’re beautiful. I already know that. Now, we are going to show Mr. Sexy.” He walks to the other side of the bed. “Let’s go with a classic. You can’t go wrong with a little black dress.”

He holds it up. Although it’s a little skimpier than I would typically wear, I’m running out of options.

“Okay, fine,” I concede.

He then holds up a very tiny thong.

“Oh, hell no,” I say.

“We don’t want you to have panty lines through the thin material of the dress.”

“I hate you,” I groan as I grab the garment from his hands.

“You’ll be thanking me when Mr. Sexy is taking that thing off with his teeth.”

Yeah, right.

I’m still convinced that this whole thing will be some big joke. Maybe he won’t show up at all and then tell me, “Oh, you thought I was serious?”

Although that doesn’t sound like something Don would do, this situation doesn’t seem like something that would happen to me either.

Just breathe, Abby. Everything is going to be fine.

Two hours later, I’m all ready to go. Jenson has primped and quaffed me as much as possible.

But apparently, he’s still not done.

When he goes to touch a strand of my hair, I smack his hand away. “Enough. There’s only so much lipstick you can put on a pig.”

He pinches my cheek. “You’re just the cutest little pig I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended.”

---