Page 47 of The Decadent Gift (The Gift 3)
And of course it was Trish. She could sense me giving up from a mile away. I swear the woman had friend radar. She was so damn sharp. She always knew when I needed a pick-me-up.
Trish: I’m waiting for an outfit pic. Can you see me twiddling my thumbs?
Christine: No. I don’t have bionic vision.
A few seconds later a gif arrived of a woman twiddling thumbs. I knew an order when I saw one. But even so, I wasn’t quite ready to follow it.
Christine: Confession: I can’t do this.
Trish: Truth: Yes you can. Send the pic.
I glanced at the dress I’d laid out on my bed. It was tight and hugged me in all the places I liked. Plus, the pretty blue that perfectly matched my eyes.
The dress was ready for the date. But, was I?
Christine: What if it’s terrible?
Trish: The outfit or the date?
Christine: Both.
A series of dots appeared as I waited for her response. Then, a message appeared that made me laugh in a way only Trish could. She was taking my worries step by step. Just like her.
Trish: Let’s start with the outfit. We can tackle world issues next.
Time to say fuck it to nerves.
This was it. No more second-guessing.
Just do.
I slid on the dress and headed for the inner sanctum – my shoe shelves.
After digging through piles of tennis shoes and reasonable heels for work, I fished out a pair of stilettos. Then I paused when I spotted a pair of basic black pumps. Should I go with something more sensible?
Nope, this wasn’t a night for business meetings.
This was a night for possibility.
Stilettos for the win.
Red. High. Daring.
After all, maybe the shoes would deactivate the nerves.
It could happen. Shoes had been known to possess superpowers.
I snapped a selfie in the mirror and sent it off to Trish. Almost immediately, several enthusiastic fire emojis landed on my screen.
Trish: Daniel’s dead. He won’t be able to handle how hot you are!
Christine: Have I told you that I’m keeping you forever as a friend?
Trish: I know you are.
Turning, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I had to admit, the dress did look great on me. Even before I’d had Carson, I’d always had a good ass. Lucky that way, I suppose. Tonight, my booty was emphasized in a way that even upstaged my magical yoga leggings.
I imagined Daniel seeing me in this dress. Where would his eyes go first? Would he be one of those guys who didn’t even bother to look at your face? Who surveyed your assets?
And more to the point, where would my eyes travel on him?
I’d seen Daniel before on the occasional limo ride with Trish, and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed the sharpness of his jawline and the way his green eyes danced in the rearview mirror when he looked back at me.
Was that why I’d given in to Trish? No, it was more.
Trish had a special talent for people. An eye for connection.
I hoped, against all odds, she might be right about Daniel and me.
I looked in the mirror again. I swiped on a red lipstick I hadn’t put on in ages. It had never felt right for the boardroom. Too much, they would have said. Even for my line of work.
But tonight?
It seemed perfect for possibility.
* * *
Jake and Carson were already settled on the couch with a pair of controllers. They didn’t hear me come into the living room, so I stood at the edge and watched as Carson waved at the screen.
“Just hit the square and R1!” Carson said, bouncing up and down. “That’ll make him do a low cross. See? Watch me.”
In a flash, Carson made his soccer player on the screen kick the ball across and into the goal. Next to him, Jake stared open-mouthed. In real life, I bet Jake could’ve mastered that low cross kick.
But here?
Carson was king.
And he was loving it.
“You’re not clicking fast enough,” Carson explained.
“Maybe you’re right and thirty really is too old,” Jake said, laughing and ruffling Carson’s hair with his free hand.
Carson grinned. “It’s okay. I can teach you. Remember? I’m the master.”
Behind them, I cleared my throat so that they both turned around.
“Well look at you,” Jake said. “You look great, sis.”
I bit my lip. “It’s not too much?”
“No way!” Carson said, jumping off the couch. “Mom, you look pretty. Well, for a mom.”
I laughed, and that was helpful, because I refused to cry in front of him, even though his comment, caveat and all, already had me tearing up. I held out my arms so he could run over and hug me.
“Thank you,” I said as we let go.
Carson gave me one last grin before he rushed back to the couch and grabbed the controller again. My brother came over, glancing at him before looking at me.
