It was easy to fall into the façade of pretending to be his girlfriend because if I wasn’t so emotionally screwed up, then I wouldn’t have to pretend.
Once I get back to New York, I’m going to confront my demons instead of trying to run away from them. I don’t know if this strength comes from meeting Dixon, but whatever it is, I’m just glad I finally have the balls to do what’s right. My fear protects my assailant, and I’m sick of them living in the light while I’m confined to the dark.
Once I find my light and if Dixon still wants me, then it’ll be our time, but until then, I have to work on becoming the stronger person I’ve always wanted to become. Or, like he said, maybe it’ll be our time in another lifetime.
But first things first, I have to get through tonight.
Dixon was quite vague in what he meant by “leave it to me.” I didn’t want to argue with him because it seems we both want to make right whatever went wrong between us, and doing little things for one another seems like the first step in doing just that.
When a knock sounds at my door at 4 p.m., a burst of excitement charges through me and I walk to the entrance with a skip in my step. I open it and am greeted by a concierge, who’s holding a black garment bag.
“Compliments of Dr. Mathews,” he says, passing me the bag.
“Thank you.” I reach into my pocket for a tip.
He waves me off. “No, Miss, it’s fine. It’s all been taken care of by Dr. Mathews. Enjoy your evening.”
I nod and quickly close the door, excited to rip open the bag to see what’s inside. The moment I unzip it, a stunned breath leaves me, as I’m looking at the most gorgeous dress I’ve ever seen in my entire life.
It’s a royal-blue silk cocktail gown, and as I carefully remove the garment from the bag, I see the mid-section is a sheer mesh decorated with blue sequins, so my upper torso is not totally bare. The sequined dress is long and fitting, and I can tell when I put it on, it’ll pool around the floor elegantly. The neckline is a sweetheart cut and quite low. I have no doubt that’s the reason Dixon chose it.
As I cautiously drape the dress on the end of my bed, I check the sizing. He’s so attentive to detail, so it doesn’t surprise me the dress is a perfect fit. I then go in search for appropriate shoes to wear. Hunting through my luggage, I remember I only brought a black-heeled pair, which I intended to wear with the dress I was planning on wearing this evening. They’ll have to do, as I don’t have anything else.
When a knock sounds on the door, I wonder who that could be, as I’ve let Dr. Wellington know I’ll be accompanying Dixon tonight. After seeing our beef-off, he knew we had history, and thought it was a good idea for us to talk through whatever issues we had.
When I open it, I’m greeted by the same concierge from earlier. “Hello, Miss. Once again, this is compliments of Dr. Mathews.” He hands me a big paper bag.
I accept, stunned, as I was not expecting yet another gift. And I was definitely not expecting yet another expensive gift as, to judge from the name on the bag, it’s made by the same designer as the dress.
Once my brain catches up, I quickly reach into my pocket for a tip, but the concierge waves me off. “Dr. Mathews is a very generous man,” he says with a smile before tipping his hat and walking away.
I stand speechless, but compose myself enough to shut the door behind me. I place the bag onto the desk and hunt through it to find a shoebox and a smaller, rectangular box. Reaching for the shoebox, I open it up and pull away the white tissue paper to see a pair of silver strappy heels. They are simply beautiful, and although the heel is quite high, I know they’ll match the dress perfectly.
I almost forget about the other box because the dress and shoes are really too much, but as I open it up, I have to agree with the concierge, Dr. Mathews is a very generous man. The small silver clutch matches the sparkly silver heels perfectly, and these accessories will set off the elegant gown beautifully.
Looking at the clock, I decide to take a shower and get ready. However, yet another knock at the door interrupts my plans and I open it up, once again clueless to who is standing on the other side.
“Hello, Miss,” says the concierge with a smile. “This is for you.” He hands me a small bag. “Compliments of—”
“Dr. Mathews,” I finish for him, while he nods. “This is really too much,” I state, taken aback, peering inside the bag.
“He mentioned you would say that. But just in case you were thinking of returning them, Dr. Mathews wanted you to know they are non-refundable,” the concierge says with a chuckle.
I can’t help but laugh as I ask, “Is this the last of them?” because I really cannot accept anything else. It’s just too much.
The concierge smirks. “He also mentioned you would say that, too.” He tips his hat before leaving.
“Hey, you didn’t answer my question,” I say, but he keeps on walking, ignoring me, as no doubt, Dr. Mathews probably predicted I would say that, too.
I close the door behind me, and just like the shoes, I place the bag onto the desk and remove the blue velvet box from inside. I brush my fingers over the soft material before nervously opening it up, the box hinges whining with protest. The moment I see what’s inside, a gasp leaves me and I cover my mouth with a shaky hand because what I’m looking at is really way too much.
A double-chained diamond necklace catches the light, and hanging off the delicate length is a sapphire diamond, which is bordered by tiny diamonds. Above the necklace sits a pair of small, sapphire studs, and they too glitter in the light, the way only true diamonds do.
This is truly the most beautiful piece of jewelry I have ever seen, and I quickly reach for my cell and text the one person I swore to never text again.
This is too much, but thank you. I love it.
I receive a reply within seconds.
Nothing but the best for my girl.
How I wish that were true.
30
Dancing in the Rain
MADISON
It’s now 7:02 p.m., and I’m rushing around my room, shoving the essentials into my small clutch. Once I have my lipstick, perfume, I.D., cash, and room key crammed inside, I’m ready to go. I have to take measured steps as I make my way into the elevator because these heels are a lot higher than I’m accustomed to wearing. They are so worth it though, because I feel like Cinderella in her glass slippers.
Pushing the button for the lobby, I take a minute to look into the mirrored wall behind me to make sure I look okay. I’ve curled my hair and swept it to one side, fastening it with a jeweled clip, my loose curls brushing over my shoulder. My make-up is fairly basic because my outfit, combined with the lavish jewelry, is quite formal enough.
Overall, I like what I see, but my huge pupils and heavy breathing indicates one thing—I’m so nervous.
Once the elevator dings, I take my first careful step toward—I don’t know. Nervously smoothing out my gown, I will my racing heartbeat to slow down. I gather whatever courage I can find and round the corner to see my Prince Charming.
The moment our eyes meet, I feel that distinctive, pulsating charge ricochet between us, but I ignore it and try my best not to fall as I walk toward him. He looks absolutely hot in a simple but elegant tuxedo, which has been fitted to underline his muscular body and impressive height. His hair, which is styled into an orderly mess, complements his light, rugged stubble, and his incredibly blue eyes look electric while scanning down my body.