I look down at my feet as if I'm not aware of what shoes I'm wearing, then back up at her.
"Thank you. They are actually very comfortable as well."
I don't know who this woman is, but she is gorgeous. She's maybe in her mid-50s but has definitely had some work done to make her look like she's in her 30s. No matter how hard people work or how much money they pay, you can usually tell when a woman is desperately trying to hide the fact that she's aging. But this woman has been pretty successful in staying youthful without looking fake.
"Love that even more."
I don't know what else to say, and it seems a bit awkward to do a formal introduction in the bathroom, so I just smile and dry my hands. She is on the same wavelength as me and doesn't say anything else before ducking into a stall.
I exit the bathroom and spot Matt waiting for me on the opposite wall with two drinks in his hand. I grab my drink from him and tuck my clutch under one arm so I can link the other around Matt's. He walks us back to our table, where several other people are now seated.
My stomach flips, and the nerves I forgot about when Matt was finger-banging me in the hallway have suddenly returned. Before we sit down, Matt takes a moment to introduce everyone seated around the table. Most of them are people who work alongside Matt or are friends from some other facet of Matt's life I know nothing about.
Sometimes, I forget that Matt and I know very little about each other. I always tell myself it's better that way, and I stand by that. If I knew more, it might ruin the essence of intrigue and mystery that comes with Matt.
We eat dinner, which is one of the most amazing meals I have ever had in my life. I am shocked when one of the men at the table complains about theirs, saying it's justmediocre and that last year, the Wagyu beef seemed fresher. I pull out my phone and Google what Wagyu means and was shocked by the average prices I see listed.
It makes me wonder how much Matt paid for these tickets. He probably doesn't even know since it was likely an insignificant amount to him. But out of curiosity and knowing Matt won't be offended, I ask, "How much does a ticket to this event cost?" To make it more humorous and emphasize that I'm not trying to be rude, I add, "I may buy a ticket next year just so I can taste beef better than this, according to that guy." I raise my eyebrows and tilt my head toward the man who, earlier, was complaining about his meal.
Matt laughs quietly. "Do you really want to know?"
I nod. I’m pretty sure I want to know.
"I can't exactly remember," I knew it, "but I think it was somewhere around four or five thousand dollars."
I chose the wrong time to take a bite of my cheesecake and nearly choke.
He laughs again, this time at my expense. "Whatever is left over after paying for the event all goes to charity."
That makes me feel a little better, but I can not imagine spending that much money to get all dressed up and eat a meal. There isn't even any entertainment other than a few speeches, mostly thanking people for the donations they made in addition to their tickets.
After dessert, Matt leans over and whispers in my ear, "There's someone I want you to meet."
"Who?"
"Come with me."
I have no idea where this is going, so I'm, yet again, anxious. My nerves are going to be completely shot by the end of the night from all this excitement. I take his hand andfollow him to a small group of people standing together just a few tables away.
Matt lets go of my hand and touches the shoulder of a woman whose dress I recognize, even from the back. She turns around and confirms that it's the woman who complimented my shoes in the bathroom. I can't believe this is who he wanted to introduce me to. So ironic. And now I'm really dying to know who she is.
Matt greets her with a hug, and they exchange brief pleasantries. Then she looks over at me. "Matthew, you have a woman here with quite some taste. I complimented her shoes in the bathroom." I didn't notice her accent in the bathroom, but now I can hear that she's English, like Matt.
Matt smiles and looks between us. "I knew you two would hit it off."
We all giggle, and Matt finally introduces us. "Louisa, this is Erin Freid. She—" I cut him off.
"You're the UK's most renowned female architect. You were featured in Architectural Digest last year. I'm so embarrassed I didn't recognize you at first. It's so nice to meet you." I reach out and shake her hand.
"I'm just glad to hear that someone knows of me for my work and not my face. Every now and then, I have a hard time getting people to take me seriously in this business because I'm just a beautiful woman to them." I love her confidence, but I'm sad that she has to deal with that. Such bullshit.
"Erin, this is Louisa Blake. Louisa is working toward getting licensed right now."
I nod, not able to calm the giddy excitement I feel about meeting someone whose work I have admired for years. "I'm about to take my first licensure exam in a week. I'm very nervous."
"That firstone is tough when you don't know exactly what to expect, and you still have all the nerves. It's a very important exam to pass. It can set the tone for all the rest of your exams. I know a few colleagues who took over 3 years to complete all their exams because they failed the first one and had so much fear about failing exams two through six that they put it off for so long."
I was already extremely nervous, but now I feel even more pressure, hearing from her just how important this is. I feel my hands go clammy, and I'm glad Matt isn't holding one right now.
