Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 430(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
His phone pings. He pulls it out and looks at the text message I’ve just sent him. “Got it. Seven o’clock sharp. And I assume you’ll be dressing to impress?”
I blink at him. “Dressing to impress?”
“Yes,” he says, his eyes glinting with mischief. “It is the opera, after all. Besides, don’t we want George to see exactly what he’s missing out on? You know, give him the full effect of his loss.”
“Dress to impress it is,” I say slowly, a small laugh escaping me. “Show that man what he threw away.”
Rhett smiles pityingly. “Poor guy. He doesn’t stand a chance.”
I shake my head, laughing, feeling light in a way I haven’t felt in weeks. I try to tell myself it’s because I am one step closer to getting George back. And I also try to believe it.
Chapter Fourteen
Pippa
I stand in front of my closet for the longest time, chewing on my bottom lip as I try to decide on an opera-appropriate outfit. Sandra had joked earlier in the group chat that I should show up in a ballgown with elbow length gloves like some high society duchess from the nineteenth century. The worst thing is, although she was joking, I know that’s how a lot of women will be dressed there, and I am wondering if anything less formal will make it look obvious that I don’t belong there. Lucy had voted for sequins, the louder the better.
That one is a definite no.
After much consideration, I decide I want to look elegant. Sophisticated. Sexy in a way that doesn’t scream it, but whispers it with confidence. Something that would make George, if by some cosmic twist of fate, I really do run into him, regret every moment he has wasted since the second he told me our relationship was over.
My fingers brush over silk, chiffon, and velvet, before landing on a dress I almost never wear. It’s a bit much for the sort of lowkey events I usually go to, which tells me it’s probably my best shot at being close to appropriately dressed.
It’s a black off-the-shoulder gown with a structured bodice that hugs my waist and hips before melting into a sleek, floor-skimming skirt. The neckline dips low enough to suggest, not declare. It’s the kind of dress that makes me stand straighter and elongates every line of my body. Hopefully, it will make me feel like I belong in the very space I’m nervous about entering.
I pair it with delicate silver heels, a matching clutch bag, and a pair of diamond drop earrings that my grandmother left me for that understated sparkle. My hair is next. I twist it into a soft chignon and pin it in place, leaving a few tendrils loose to soften the effect. For my makeup, I keep it classic: understated bronze eyes, with a deep red lip, the shade bold, but timeless.
When the buzzer rings, my stomach flips. I smooth my dress down nervously, grab my clutch, and take a deep, calming breath before heading down to meet Rhett. As I push open the door and step outside, the sight that greets me stops me dead in my tracks.
My, my! Dear God!
Rhett is casually leaning against the car, looking like he’s strolled straight out of a glossy magazine spread. Every inch of his divinely tall, yummy body is wrapped in black tuxedo perfection. A crisp white dress shirt, and a black bow tie, which is slightly loose as if he couldn’t be bothered to make it too perfect, but somehow makes it even hotter. The jacket molds itself perfectly to his broad shoulders, and the trousers are cut in a way that makes him look utterly edible. His hair, apparently devoid of hair gel and only supported with coconut shampoo, has fallen into careless precision that looks like a hairdresser spent hours on it. And when his eyes sweep over me, slow and deliberate, they darken in a way that makes my pulse kick hard against my throat. I swallow hard and walk towards him.
He straightens, and his lips curve into a slow smile, his eyes dipping all the way down my body before returning to my face. “You went to town with the dress to impress thing. You look … amazing.”
Heat prickles the back of my neck. I laugh, too brightly, as if that can deflect the way his words settle like a hand against my skin. “Please, you’re the one who looks like every woman’s fantasy right now.”
“Every woman?” he teases. “I’ll settle for just yours.”
I roll my eyes, but the flutter in my chest betrays me. “Well done, Romeo. This is exactly the kind of stuff George needs to hear from you. Shall we?”
“Yes, but I hope you realize you’ve totally ruined tonight’s performance for me. I won’t be able to concentrate on anything but you.”