Chapter Twenty-Five
Sky didn’t wake me up when she got in last night, so I hurry out of bed to find out how everything went between her and Steven. She’s not in her room so I pick up my phone and send her a quick text. Where are you? How did it go? Report in ASAP.
When she doesn’t respond right away, I take a quick shower and get ready for the day. I take extra pains with my appearance which I can only take to mean I’m trying to impress Jonathan.
The truth is clear when I go into Sky’s closet and search for a pair of heels to borrow. I won’t put them on until I get to the studio though. I should be able to wear them as I’ll be sitting down while we eat.
Gerard hands me a cup of coffee as soon as I walk into the kitchen. “You look very nice today.”
I thank him for the compliment. I do look nice. Instead of pinching my cheeks and biting my lips for color, I’ve actually applied makeup. I blew my hair out so it’s full and flowy like a shampoo commercial. “I don’t have time for breakfast this morning, Gerard. I need to hurry to the office.”
He fusses around for a minute before dropping something into a small paper sack and handing it to me. “Homemade beignets.”
“You’re joking? Yum!” I grab the bag and thank him before hurrying out the front door to my car.
My brain is so full of thoughts of Jonathan and me that I don’t remember the drive to work. I remind myself that he is not my type; I am not his type. Then I wonder how in the world we could be right for each other. Yet here I am trying to look like what I think his type is. Does that mean I’d change for the guy? I like who I am. Why would I do that?
I keep trying to find the answer to that question as I strap on Sky’s heels so I can practice walking around the office in them. It’s slow going from the parking lot to the back door and I look more like a drunk stilt walker than a femme fatale.
Sky spots me as soon as I cross the threshold into Pemberley. If I’m reading the look on her face correctly, she’s equal parts astonished and concerned. She hurries toward me. “What are you wearing?”
“I borrowed a pair of your shoes. I hope you don’t mind.”
Grabbing ahold of my elbow to help guide me toward my desk, she says, “I don’t mind at all, but you’re going to hurt yourself if you keep those on.”
“I’m having lunch with you-know-who today and I thought I’d try to look a little nicer.” I whisper to her so as not to be overheard by Lucy who is currently dissecting me with her eyes from across the room.
“Jonathan?” Sky doesn’t whisper.
“Yes, now shush. I don’t want to advertise why I’m doing it.”
“You like him,” my friend accuses.
I try to shrug my shoulders but as soon as I do, I start to topple over. How do women walk in these things every day? “Maybe,” I tell her. “But don’t go making a thing of it. It might just be that I really miss having romance in my life and I’m jumping on the first man around.”
“So, you’re jumping on him now?” Sky snickers.
I try to smack her arm, but I wind up falling onto my desk. “These were the lowest heels you had in your closet. How do you do this every day?” I demand.
“You have to stand tall and lead with your pelvis. Give it a try,” Sky instructs.
I decide to walk to the lobby and back. I start out very slowly—snails-crawling-through-molasses slowly. Frederic looks up from his desk and asks, “Are you hurt? Have you been in an accident?”
“What kind of question is that?” I demand.
“You’re moving like you have a groin pull or something.”
I briefly wonder what I would have had to be doing to get an injury like that. “Don’t be nasty, Frederic,” I tell him before explaining, “I’m trying to break in a new pair of shoes.”
He stands up so he can see my feet from behind his desk and starts laughing. “I thought you looked taller.” When I wear flats, he has to tip his chin up so he can see my face. If I keep this up, he may have to get chiropractic help to converse with me. “You actually look very pretty today. I’m proud of you for trying to fit in more,” he says.
While I should appreciate the compliment, I don’t. Prickles of actual disgust ripple through me. Yet, I don’t disabuse my boss of the notion that I am not trying to conform because I might as well earn some brownie points. Lord knows, I’ll need them when he finds out I’m not selling one of his twenty million-dollar listings to Jonathan.
As though reading my mind, Frederic asks, “When are you showing my listings to your new client?”
“I’m having lunch with him today to discuss them,” I lie so he’ll leave me alone.
It works because Frederic smiles like he just found a drug that would help him grow a foot in height.
It takes me a full ten minutes to get to the lobby and back, a journey that would have taken twenty seconds had I been wearing my normal shoes. Sky looks concerned when I finally return. “Don’t wear those shoes to lunch. If you want a heel, go buy yourself some nice orthopedic granny shoes.”
“I thought you were on my side.”
“I most definitely am,” she assures me. “I don’t want you to make a fool of yourself.”
Oddly, instead of taking her concern to heart, I take it as a challenge to prove her wrong. Changing the subject, I ask, “How was dinner last night?”
Sky sits on top of my desk while I kick off her shoes and plop down on my chair. “It was perfect. We watched a show on Nova about the expanding universe while we ate.”
“Sexy,” I deadpan.
“It was. We held hands after dinner and snuggled a little.”
“Did he kiss you?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet, but it’s coming, I can feel it.”
As much as she looks like sex on a plate, Sky is a notorious prude. It sounds like Steven is as well, which makes me wonder how they’re ever going to progress their relationship beyond discussing roses and watching documentaries.
“Steven is going to come to our party,” she says.
“I’m glad. Jonathan is coming too,” I tell her.
“I hope he doesn’t poop on our parade.” In response to my arched eyebrow of inquiry, she adds, “You know, walk around acting like the military police at a protest rally.”
I burst out laughing. “I can totally see him with a baton, smacking people who get too close to the house. No, but seriously, I think it’ll be good for him.”
“Maybe he’ll realize you’re the perfect woman for him,” she suggests.
“I don’t know, Sky. While it’s true that I’m having some feelings for the guy, I can’t wrap my head around changing for him.”
“Yet here you are staggering around in heels. If you’re not doing that for him, who are you doing it for?” Before I can answer, she says, “You don’t need to change for him, Em. You’re perfect the way you are.”
“If that’s true, why am I still single?”
“Why am I still single?” she counters. “We have opposite fashion sensibilities so I’m guessing clothes have nothing to do with it.”
While I’m inclined to agree, I still reply, “I’m going to try this new me for today.”
“You should wear a helmet.” If she didn’t look so concerned, I’d be offended.
I ignore her and reply, “I’m going to take a picture of Jonathan while we’re eating and send it to Lucy. Can you believe her lying about having lunch with him today?”
“She’s just trying to get your goat. It shows you just how pathetic she is.”
I look across the room at our co-worker. She doesn’t look pathetic at all; she looks mean and calculating. Truthfully, I wouldn’t put anything past her.