“Yes.”
Slowly standing up after checking her watch, she smoothed her blazer and smiled at me. “Well, luckily, you’re a lawyer, which means that you’re very good at fixing complicated situations. I have a meeting to get to, but try not to sweat it too much, okay? Whatever happened, I’m sure that if you decide to, you’ll be able to make it right.”
Leaving me alone with the very uncomfortable realization that she might be right, I exhaled a long breath and tried to get back to work. All day long, however, I kept mulling over everything she’d said, knowing that my personal experience with theChicagoWestwoods, at least, lined up perfectly with her opinion of them.
Even Will and Eliza had been kind and welcoming back at the estate that day. When I’d briefly met Alex at the investor dinner, he’d seemed more suspicious of Jesse than judgy about me, and Jesse himself? Well, he was something else entirely.
The rest of the week dragged painfully slowly, like time itself had decided to make me suffer a little bit. I checked my phone enough times to consider treatment for addiction, and when I still hadn’t heard from him by the weekend, I had to admit that I was hurt.
Which was ridiculous, because obviously I didn’tneedto hear from Jesse Westwood. I was a grown woman with a deeply rooted sense of independence and plenty to keep herself busywithout him. But still, I thought I would’ve heard from him by now.
Tossing my phone down on the desk, I leaned back in my chair and sent a glare at the ceiling. “I’m such an idiot.”
“Are you talking to yourself again?”
I looked up to find Miranda standing in my doorway, watching me with thinly veiled amusement in her eyes. She’d been checking in on me every so often these last few days, but she hadn’t pressed me for more information. I genuinely appreciated her quiet support and unspoken understanding that some things were just too embarrassing—and difficult—to talk about.
“I was simply commenting on some of my less desirable characteristics,” I said honestly, smiling as I waved her in. “What’s up, boss?”
“I’m hosting a table tonight at a fundraising event,” she said, coming over to stand in front of my desk, but not sitting down. “Some of the girls from the office are going. You should come too.”
“Thanks. I might just do that. I haven’t had a reason to get dressed up for much too long.”
Her smile widened. “In that case, I’d say you owe it to yourself to go out and get pampered this afternoon. Hair. Nails. Just make sure to buy a dress says,I’m successful, but also fun.”
I laughed. “Successful but fun, huh? That could be interesting to shop for.”
She winked at me. “Seven o’clock. I’ll send you a pin location for your Uber driver. Don’t be late.”
“I’ll do my best, but finding a dress that says what you want it to say might take several weeks.”
She backed toward my door and pointed at the watch on her wrist. “You’ve got six hours. Make them count. Tick, tock.”
I chuckled as she left, but decided to take her advice and packed up not long after. Since I didn’t have a preferred hair salon or nail technician in this city yet, I did a spot of Googling and found a salon that provided both within walking distance of my apartment.
After booking an appointment, I headed to cute boutique in my neighborhood that I’d walked past a few times. The sales assistant was incredibly helpful, pointing me toward a deep red dress with sleek lines, a plunging neck and back, and a hem that skimmed my ankles when I walked.
I bought it without a second thought, making it to my appointment with time to spare. Both the hairstylist and nail technician were wonderful, and I immediately added their contact details to my phone, surprised that it had been so easy to find people that I genuinely liked.
The next step was heading back to my apartment to change and get ready. I kept my makeup generally light but added a touch of dramatic flair to my eyes just to make them pop. Then I smiled at myself in mirror, ready for my first big event with people from the firm.
The fundraiser was being held at a museum downtown. The exterior of the building was all lit up and a snaking line of fancy cars deposited their occupants on an honest-to-God red carpet outside.
Butterflies erupted in my stomach, but I climbed out of the car with my head held high, not pausing for the small contingent of press standing beyond velvet ropes. They weren’t here for me anyway.
One or two seemed to know my name, but I ignored them when they called out to me, heading inside without further ado. If Jesse had been with me, stopping might’ve been worth it, but as it was, talking to them without him only seemed likeproviding further cause for speculation. And if I said one wrong thing, it would be a disaster.
Miranda and the girls were by a cocktail table in the grand entrance hall, smiling when I joined them.
“There you are,” Miranda said, looking me over like she was critically assessing whether my dress had fulfilled her brief. She grinned. “It’s perfect. You look gorgeous.”
“So do you,” I said, meaning it and accepting a cocktail one of the associates handed me. “Thanks, Darla.”
“No problem,” she said easily. “It looks like you need it. Seriously, girl. Relax. You look like you’re about to cross-examine someone.”
“I might,” I replied. “It’s how I cope.”
She laughed and I pumped my eyebrows at her but then stepped away from the table with my cocktail in hand. “I’m just going to take a look around. I’ll catch up soon.”