I drag in a deep breath, still unsure how I should’ve answered.
Of course, I’ve been avoiding him, scheduling my hours not to overlap his. I can’t look at him, especially if there’s the slightest chance that he might look at me like he still wants me too. Every time I see him, my emotions fight against logic.
The irony of it all? Lately, Linc’s been giving me more space.
After that first lunch order—since he overheard my dating concierge consultation with Leslie—he’s kept his distance.
But somehow, he’s still always here.
I’m talking to the caterer, and I hear him barking orders to his crew. I’m discussing dress alterations, and I catch him walking through the hallway, seeming completely oblivious to me, focused entirely on the task at hand.
I bite my lip, lost in the memory of Linc and me.
What would Savannah have said if I told her Linc’s not just “around”? That he’s in the same building, mere feet away from me, in the legendary grand ballroom that’s witnessed countless love stories? What advice would she have given if I confessed that we’re working side by side to ensure this wedding goes off without a hitch?
PING!
My phone cuts through the silence, snapping me out of my thoughts.
When I look at the screen, my heart stalls.
Hillary Winston
I’m sorry. I’m not ready to explain yet, but I will soon.
I stare at the message, every inch of me screaming,That’s it? Just a half-assed apology andan open-ended date when we’ll meet?
Fire surges through my veins, my body vibrating with the urge to lash out. But I won’t give it any more energy. Not today.
The day isn’t over, but it might as well be. I stand, smoothing the puff sleeves of my cosmo-flower blouse, and grab my things. Hillary,Linc, all the emotions feel too tangled and messy.
Tonight, I’m taking Savannah’s advice and giving myself grace. I just want to focus on something uncomplicated. Something good.
My date.
I glance at my desk. On a deep breath, I walk out of the office, past Linc, leaving the weight of the day behind.
Two hours later, it’s just me, my Red Dahlia lipstick, and my divas helping me choose a date-night dress for my firstDivorcétante Chronicleslive Get Ready with Me video.
“Okay, are y’all ready?” I ask.
Whitney and Priscilla are stretched out on my bed, phones in hand, not paying me a lick of attention, so I finish setting up my ring-light stand and angle my phone toward the hall closet between my bedroom and en suite bathroom.
“Ebony, have you been reading the comments?” Whit asks, her thumb steadily gliding up the screen.
“Only a handful here and there,” I explain. “Too manyLuxe Ladiestrolls.”
She hums her agreement. “No, I get it, but…there are some great ones here.” Her smile widens as she listens to my first video on replay. “‘I’m seated with my mug awaiting the freshly brewed tea,’ ‘We need the skincare routine,’ ‘Out here defying gravity.’These folks are hilarious.”
“Oh, no, that’s not even my favorite,” Priscilla says, seeming fully invested. “For me, it’s a toss-up between ‘Pause, peace, power. I’m stealing that,’ ‘That face card,’ and ‘Standing on principle. That’s that 92 percent energy!’” She’s breathless, and her shoulders tremble. “She’s really over here, building a fandom out the thin air like it’s no big deal.”
I deflate into an amused sigh. “I love the ones that are like, ‘I broke my neck running to the comment section.’”
“Lissstennnn.” Whit sits upright. “This mystery man is about to be on a date with a bona fide celebrity and doesn’t even know it.”
A laugh tumbles out of me. “I don’t knowhim. Which is why I need to hurry up and get this video started.”
Priscilla pops up too, giving me her full attention.
