He lets the silence linger for a beat. “All right, I’m not going to press you.”Yeah, you are.“But you and I both know you’re holding back like aprofessional.”
There itis.
I bark out a laugh at the sheer level of his commitment. The lengths he’ll go to in order to make his point is awe-inspiring.
“Go on. Get it out.” I shake my head, smiling.
“Playing the long,longgame, acting like you’re on a high-speed chase away from your feelings,” he continues. “The poster child for denial. Mind you, fooling absolutely no one—”
“Thank you so much for that riveting read. I’m so glad I answered this eight a.m. call.” I’m still laughing as I pull into a parking space on the street, then tell Dom I’ll hit him up later.
He’s a fool, but I admit, I do feel lighter.
As planned, I’m the first to arrive, so I spend a few minutes inspecting the new shipments for the woodwork and paneling.
Yet I can’t deny my disappointment when Hailey and Cornelia arrive.
“Good morning.” I force myself to smile and greet them—really working that professional angle, as if I don’t feel some kind of way about both of them for different reasons.
As Hailey leans in to hug me, over her shoulder, I catch sight of Ebony, and I’m completely caught off guard.
Damn.
Hailey pulls back, arching her dark, severe eyebrows in confusion as she meets my stare.Did I justsay that out loud?
Apparently so.
That frown immediately turns upside down as she follows my line of vision. Not that I can blame her, because…me too.
“Hey, Ebs!” Hailey exclaims, twirling around in a heavy cloud of floral perfume, then rushing Ebony with a hug. “Oh my gosh. First of all, you look absolutely stunning. And second, can you freaking believe that I’m getting married at Madison Manor?” She unleashes an ear-piercing squeal, but I barely register it.
I feel the pull of gravity as if the ground itself is holding me in place, anchoring me to this spot.
The thing about Ebony Livingston is that she’s always been undeniably beautiful. She’s got this deep brown skin that shimmers with the subtle iridescence of Tahitian pearls, catching the last rays of daylight. Hypnotizing hazel eyes with olive-green undertones. And her lips…Jesus.Full, soft, begging to be kissed.
Even underneath, when she was the polished Christie doll on the arm of an undeserving anchorman, she carried herself in a way that commanded attention.
But this Ebony…she’s unexpected.
Her long, dark brown waves, cascading down her back? Gone, replaced by a tapered pixie cut that frames her face in a way that, somehow, feels daring. Bold. And it’s not just the haircut. The soft, debutante-approved pink lips are a velvet red. She’s shed the usual chic-but-reserved clothing, too. The sleeveless corporate dresses and cashmere athleisure set have been swapped for an elegant, bold-print scarlet-red mini dress that barely reaches her smooth ebony thighs and fits like it was made to showcase every precision-cut line and breakneck curve of her body. Legs, collarbone—every exposed inch of her, every confident shift as she walks toward us, says she’s unapologetically stepped into a new version of herself.
I’m not sure I’ve seen her this commanding or undeniably show-stopping since…well, since she was Ebony King.
All of me notices all of her, and I could easily lose myself again.
And, apparently, for too long, I do.
“Well…” Cornelia quietly clears her throat, then grins cheerfully. “It’s lovely to see you two have picked up right where you left off. I just knew the, uh…synergy with this partnership would be off the charts.”
Ebony manages a tight smile, and it’s enough to remind me why I spent all morning preparing for this meeting.
I straighten, drawing myself up to my full height. “Oh, absolutely.” I give a light chuckle. “Ebony is not just an outstanding event planner; she’s been nothing short of extraordinary. Professional, dedicated, passionate—”
“Passionate?” Cornelia’s eyebrows dip. She purses her sensible pink lips, like she wants to really explore the sentiment.
So, maybe Ilaid it on too thick.
But for the life of me, I can’t figure why, of all the adjectives I just hurled at her, she latched on to that one. And I’m not about to try, either.
