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Because the truth is?

I don't know.

I don’t know if he’s here to stay or just passing through.

And that scares the shit out of me.

Because I know I still love him.

I know I never stopped.

I know seeing him every morning makes me happy.

But I also know heartbreak.

And heartbreak doesn't disappear just because the sex is amazing and the kisses make your knees wobble.

“So?” Brielle asks again. “Deets, woman, come on! What's with tall, dark, and broody?”

I pull the dress over my head.

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“I've got a tiny stalker problem, and he's just here to protect me.”

“Uh huh. And the sizzling attraction I can practically see between you two?”

The skepticism in her voice could power Manhattan.

“It’s nothing. We have history is all,” I murmur.

She pulls back the screen for me, and I step out and turn.

“Ooh. That looks incredible.”

I glance down.

The costume is beautiful.

A corseted bodice with soft layers somehow makes my waist look smaller and my chest look—well, wow.

The girls are propped up and practically spilling over.

As for my hips, ass, and thighs—my problem areas, according to the dresser from my last show, and well, fuck her and the horse she rode in on, by the way—they look. Well, I mean, they're all still there, obviously.

But draped in sheer layers with this cinched waist thing going on?

Somehow I look curvy and seductive instead of fat and frumpy.

I glance at myself in the mirror and damn.

I look good.

“Come here. Let me pin it.”

Brielle drags me into the center of the room.