Page 34 of The Most Perfect Wrong

“What time is that party tonight?” Brad asks, as he takes a bite of his burger.

“It starts at seven, so I was thinking we could get there around seven-thirty?” I sip my water. “I know you don’t love these things, but I appreciate you going.”

“I don’t mind going, baby. I’m actually looking forward to seeing where you work.”

I smile. “Well, that’s good then.”

* * * * * ?* * * * *

As I get ready for the party, my anxiety starts to get the best of me. I can’t stop thinking about last night—Ryan’s words echoing in my head:If things were different, I think you’d know exactly what I’m looking for…

What did he mean by that?

If things were different… I hate how much I care. It’s ridiculous. I just had incredible sex in the kitchen hours ago with my fiancé, the man I love. But somehow, when I’m with Ryan, I miss Brad less. And when I’m not with Ryan, I find myself missing him, too.

I’m nervous about Brad meeting Ryan. Brad’s not stupid, and he’s always been the jealous type. I haven’t been completely honest with him either—he thinks I’m working on this projectwith a whole team. I told him Ryan, Genevieve, and I are the leads, but I left out the part where it’s just been Ryan and me staying late. And I definitely didn’t mention that it’ll only be the two of us traveling to Austin.

Shit.I suddenly feel like bringing Brad into my work life is a terrible idea. I stare at myself in the mirror, taking a deep breath before slowly blowing it out.I can do this.

“I am strong. I am brave. I am beautiful. I am enough,” I whisper to my reflection, repeating the mantra I’ve told myself countless times when I’ve felt like I couldn’t keep going. These words have been whispered into this mirror hundreds of times—sometimes through smiles, but mostly through tears.I’ve got this.

I smooth down the rich burgundy fabric of the dress I bought, the one that hugs my curves perfectly. It fits like a glove, from the sweetheart neckline down to the hem that lands mid-thigh. Thin spaghetti straps leave my shoulders bare, and the corset-style top makes my boobs look incredible. Cinched tightly at the waist, it gives me that perfect hourglass shape.

I turn slightly, peeking at the back.Damn, it’s a pretty dress.The back laces up in a crisscross of thin straps, giving it just the right amount of playful edge. It feels sexy, the way it shows off so much of my back, but there’s something empowering about it, too. The deep color pops against my fair skin, making me feel bold and confident.

I finish putting soft waves in my hair and can’t wait to see Brad’s reaction when I step out. He’s always been a sucker for a sexy dress. But in the back of my mind, I hope Ryan notices me in it, too. And God, the guilt washes over me.

Is it normal to feel something like this when you love someone else? Is this what Brad feels when he cheats on me?

Brad walks in, eyes widening. “Holy shit, baby.”

“Agh, you’re not supposed to come in yet! I was going to make a dramatic entrance.”

He grins, looking me up and down. “I don’t need a show. I want you bent over somewhere, in this dress,now,” he playfully demands.

“Well, you’re just going to have to wait.”

Brad steps closer, arms reaching for me, lust clear in his eyes.

“No, babe,” I say, swatting his hands away and pulling back. “No touchy. Not yet. Let it build.”

“Jesus. You’re killing me,” he groans, shaking his head.

I press a hand to his chest with a smile. “You’ll survive. Besides, look at you—you’re devilishly handsome tonight.” I plant a soft kiss on his lips before stepping back. “Come on, let’s go.”

* * * * * ?* * * * *

We’ve been here for thirty minutes, and I’ve somehow managed to avoid bumping into Ryan. I’m postponing that meeting for as long as possible, guzzling my drink like a twenty-one-year-old at their first bar. I’ve caught Ryan’s eye from across the room a couple of times. It felt like he was checking me out, but I can’t be sure—there are a lot of people here.

The entire floor is decked out with classy holiday decor, from garlands and bouquets to sparkling centerpieces on every table. The bar area is dimly lit, creating a warm, moody ambiance, while a live piano player in the corner fills the room with soothing renditions of classic Christmas music. Whoever planned this party nailed it—everything feels elegant yetinviting. I’ve introduced Brad to a few people on my team, but we’ve spent most of the night chatting with Genevieve.

“So, Genevieve,” Brad says, swirling his drink, “Cooper mentioned you’re working on this expansion with her?”

Genevieve looks at me, clearly confused. I shoot her a pleading look, silently begging her to cover for me.

“Oh, yeah,” she says, smiling smoothly at Brad. “It’s been really busy, but exciting. Cooper does most of the heavy lifting, though. She’s great at her job.”

I mouth a silent thank you to her, and she gives a subtle nod.

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