Page 78 of Love Lessons
She gives me a happy shrug. “You never know. Could be the one.”
I find a saleswoman who helps me into a fitting room. I remove my sundress and carefully step into the ballgown. The fabric is a low-luster silk blend. And the price tag? Reduced to just two hundred euros. It’s a lot of money—but not for an Italian designer ball gown.
“Can I zip you?” Charli asks from the other side of the door.
“Yes, please.” I come out, and Charli’s smile widens. “Oh heck! The length is going to work, isn’t it? Turn around.” She zips me into the dress, and I step past her to find the three-way mirror.
Andwow. It fits me like it was made for me. The bodice is sleek against my chest, the straps don’t dig or roll, and the hem hits the floor.
“Stand on your tiptoes,” Charli demands. “Let’s see what a low heel would do.”
I raise myself up an inch and then turn in a slow circle, while the skirts swish neatly at the floor.
“Holy cannoli,” Heidi Jo says. “You look like an Oscar nominee.”
“The bust even fits,” I murmur. “That never happens.”
“That’s theone,” Charli whispers. “That’s your dress. Tell me I’m not crazy.”
“Not about this,” I agree. “Thank you for finding it for me.”
Charli laughs. “You do the same for me all the time. I’m just trying to return the favor.”
* * *
With my newdress packed carefully in tissue paper, we ride back to the villa in the limousine, making only one quick stop for a couple of pints of gelato for our evening ritual. The other two women send me into the gelato shop alone, because they know I like to practice my Italian.
“I hope nobody minds my choice,” I say when I emerge. “It’s a little weird but the guy gave me a sample, and I thought it was amazing.”
“How weird could it be?” Charli demands. “My favorite so far was the guava you chose.”
“Well, brace yourselves. This one is olive oil and rosemary.”
Heidi Jo shrugs. “That sounds different, but if they made it fattening, I’ll probably love it.” She pats her tummy affectionately. “I’m up at least five pounds on this trip.”
The driver zips us back to the villa before the ice cream melts, and I remind myself that I’m going to have to travel like a normal person again—on the subway—in a few short days. I’d better enjoy myself as much as I can before I turn into a pumpkin again.
After putting the gelato in the freezer, I head upstairs and put my dress away. The bathroom I share with Ian is unoccupied, so I go in to splash some water on my face. The door to his room is open, and I spot him perched on the end of the bed, shirtless, elbows on his knees, phone in hand.
My heart does a belly flop. It’s not just because he’s physically attractive, although he is. But now I know how it feels to sleep against that body. And the surprising tenderness of those strong hands.
He is beautiful, but also familiar. He looks like… Wow, this is bad. But he looks likemine.
What the hell are you smoking? my inner meanie demands.He’s not yours. And if you said that out loud, he’d laugh in your face.
Ian looks up, catching me watching him. And that’s when I notice the worry lines on his forehead.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” I ask immediately. “What’s wrong?”
He tries for a smile, although it looks startled. “Hi, contessa. How was shopping trip number eighty-nine?”
I cross to the bed and sit down beside him. “You can poke fun at my hobbies if you want to, tough guy. But why do you look like someone just ate the last donut?”
He rubs his handsome jaw, as if trying to work out a puzzle. “There’s nothing wrong, exactly. But there’s some kind of big trade brewing in Brooklyn, and it’s got me on edge. I’m not in a good place with my team, and I’m worried they’ll ship me to Vegas or somewhere if they think I’m a lot of trouble.”
“B-because of your arrest?” I babble as my heart quietly detonates.
“Yeah, partly,” he says. He sets his phone aside and then lies back on the bed, his feet dangling over the edge, his arms over his face. “The reputation thing is certainly a factor. There’s a lot of changes happening on our team. It would be easy for management to push me off the table. Make me someone else’s problem.”
