Page 150 of How You See Me
He whispers something under his breath to the assistant, and she scurries off. When she reappears moments later, she’s holding up a flowing royal-blue silkdress—not flashy, not glittery. Just clean lines, a high neckline, and a low, open back. Understated, but memorable in all the ways that matter.
It takes only a second to slip the smooth fabric onto my body. In the three-paneled mirror, Grant inspects every detail for a long moment before nodding. “That’s the one.”
I twist in the mirror, finding a more confident, taller, sharper me. I earned this life-changing opportunity, and I can go anywhere and do anything I want. The woman staring back at me is the Josie Jones I always knew I could be.
Contentment trickles through me and it feels good.
“I’ll take it.”
???
After three grueling hours of navigating glamorous but insufferably pretentious boutiques—while running on half a stale blueberry muffin—I’m barely hanging on. Somewhere between the third dressing room and my tenth side-eye from a saleswoman, the sparkle I’d found fizzles out.
At one boutique, I overheard a bored attendant mutter that I was “difficult,” and I’ve been chewing on that ever since. Maybe Iambeing difficult. I can't help that my heart and thoughts are not focused on me and finding a stupid dress. They're across the country with a sweet little girl and her big brother, who are both struggling unnecessarily.
Eventually, Grant findsthe dressfor my first cocktail meet-and-greet event, and I let him swipe my credit card with a flourish, just so we can leave.
We drop our bags back at the hotel and change for dinner before heading out into the neon-lit night. Apparently, I’ve earned a “fabulous meal” and a “scene-stealing entrance” to cap off the evening.
Please Goddess, help me. Any goddess will do. Just send reinforcements and an extraction team.
The restaurant Grant picks is both opulent and obnoxious. The front door is deep purple lacquer framed in burnished gold, which I admit, I kind of love. Inside, it’s all dim lighting, chrome accents, and pulsing bass from the dance floor bleeding into the dining space.
My vegetable alfredo sits in front of me, untouched. Ever since the DJ started enhancing the electronic music with affects, feeling like steel nails driving into my skull in an incessant rhythm, I can’t think, much less eat.
“This is sooooVegas,” Grant says, beaming in his element. He waves across the table at my full cocktail glass. “You need to drink that. Live a little.”
I only ordered the Cosmopolitan to keep his complaints about my mood to a minimum. A curly orange peel clings to the rim, matching the neon-orange liquid inside. Combined with the glittery blue stem, the cocktail seems to be trying too hard to be cheerful. Something we have in common.
I toy with the straw and consider draining it just to feelsomething. But the memory of the last time I drank too much fizzes up like a warning from my empty stomach.
Grant’s points at something behind me. “Is that the museum director?”
I squint through the cascade of pink and white lights washing over the dance floor. A woman in a strapless black cocktail dress—complete with a fuzzy, feather hem and glittering stilettos—sways near the edge of the crowd, gauging the scene with cool detachment. Her lipstick is blood-red and flawless.
“Maybe she’s lonely,” Grant mutters. “I can fix that.”
He bounces out of the booth and strides toward her, back straight, charisma loaded. He taps her on the shoulder and, just like that, they melt into the dance floor. His charm really should be illegal.
I let some tension out with an exhale and sink back in my chair, the Cosmo now my sole companion.
The last time I visited in a place like this, Hayes was with me, holding me close under string lights in Nashville or swaying with me in a quiet Richmond restaurant. Both times, the world disappeared. He made the simple moments meaningful. Magical.
This? This feels like makeup smeared over something broken.
I open my text thread with Hayes, just to read his message one more time. As I do, three gray dots appear.
A bolt of energy surges through me as I wait.
Hayes:Hey. Sorry I missed your message. Just touched down. Got a quick layover before doing it again.
Me:That’s OK. I’m so happy to hear from you. Where are you?
Hayes:Charlotte, North Carolina.
Me:How’s Ava?
Hayes:Hoping to find out for myself soon. No one will tell me.
