“You need a dress that does you justice tonight. I knew you wouldn’t go buy it, and you didn’t, despite my prodding all week.”
“I have a dress.”
“It’s not one of these dresses. This event is going to be over the top glitz. And if you don’t like any of these, we’ll go hunting for one you do like.” He pulls a dress from the rack. “I asked for this one.”
It’s a gorgeous dress, floor length with a beaded V-neck in a flesh-tone, but the bottom is a stunning chiffon sunshine-hued skirt with a slit down the leg. “It’s beautiful. Like a daisy.”
“Exactly.” He carries it to me. “It matches your ring.”
My fingers catch on the chiffon of the skirt. It’s a Cinderella dress.
“Want to try it on?” he asks.
“I do,” I say. “Very much.”
His eyes light. “Good. Then go try it on.”
I take the dress and start to leave, but pause to push to my toes and kiss him. “Thank you.”
His hand settles on my lower back and he molds me close. “Anything for you, Aria. That’s what I want you to understand. I’m not the man I was before I met you. I would do anything for you. Don’t forget that.” His voice is low, rough, affected.
I don’t know what he’s talking about. I don’t ask. He doesn’t want me to ask. Because as he knows me, I’ve come to know him. He has secrets. He has pain. He has damage. And I don’t care. I’m the one affected by him and on the deepest of levels. I need him and that has nothing to do with a dress. He could hurt me and maybe he will, but I cannot turn back now, damn the consequences, and at times, I know there will consequences.
Once I’m in the bathroom, I slip out of the robe and into the dress and I’m in love with it and Kace. I glance at my ring and then at myself in the mirror. It’s perfect. Everything about this dress is perfect. A rush of nostalgia has me grabbing my phone from my robe pocket and dialing Gio for the first time in a week. It goes straight to voicemail.
I text the message sender that sent me that strange message: Please contact me, Gio.
The message bounces back. And I don’t know why I even sent that message. Gio didn’t send me that text. I know he didn’t.
A knock sounds on the door. “You going to let me see the dress?” Kace calls out.
“Not until tonight.” I slip out of it and pull on the robe, opening the door.
He’s right there, waiting on me. “Then you’re keeping the dress?”
“Yes. I love it so much.”
“You have others to try on.”
“No need.” My fingers curl in his T-shirt. “You picked this one and you know, I really love—” I stop myself before I tell him I love him. God, what am I doing?
His cellphone rings. He ignores it. “You really love—” he prods, his hands on my waist as he steps into me. “You love what, Aria?”
“The dress,” I say.
“And I love,” he pauses, “the dress, too.” His lips, his really sexy lips, quirk at the edges.
He loves the dress? No. No that’s not what we’re talking about right now. My God, have we just confessed our love to each other?
“Aria,” he says and there’s a knock on the door.
He curses under his breath and presses his forehead to mine before he cups my head and kisses me. “I really love that damn dress,” he says and heads toward the door.
Leaving me breathless.
I don’t know what just happened, but I want to pull him back to me right away and finish this conversation but that soon proves impossible. Our visitor is Savage.
“Ho ho ho,” he greets, taking over the room, as he does every room he enters. “Christmas comes early. I’m here. I bring cookies and plans for tonight’s event.”
We spend a good hour with him and our moment of confessions have passed. With the day passing quickly, we shower and head out to explore the city, which includes the pier, a light lunch, and a bakery with what he claims to have “the best chocolate cake on planet Earth.” He’s right. It is.
“You know,” he says as we sit in the cute little bakery at a wooden table, “in Paris, I can show you a lot of things you’ve never experienced. Chris and Sara live there half the year. Maybe we could do the same with Italy.”
“I can’t go back to Italy. What about Germany? And I can’t even believe I’m talking about living anywhere but New York City. But you love Germany and you said I’d love the spaetzle.”
“Which I still haven’t gotten you.” He stands and takes me with him. “I’m going to give you back Italy. I promise and I don’t make promises I can’t keep. You wait and see.”