I thank her because it isherparty after all, and I want to make sure I look good for it. It’s important to her. Besides, Lucinda has good taste when it comes to dresses.
She then explains about some of the issues she’s been dealing with when it comes to the caterer and the award-winning cake decorator, the latter who will be creating the centerpiece for the tea party. This is followed by her mentioning the prestigious home design magazine that will be featuring the party in an upcoming issue.
And this is why I groaned when I saw who was calling. I knew it wouldn’t be a quick call. They haven’t been lately whenever Lucinda phones me. But at least she has been calling me. The same can’t be said about my friends, especially Tiffany.
Although according to Tiffany, she has an excuse. She’s been busy planning her own surprise, but she can’t tell me what it is yet.
“Anyway, he has confirmed that he will be returning to the States in August and will be happy to be your date,” Lucinda tells me, which is when I realize that I haven’t been paying attention to her for the past few minutes.
“Date? What are you talking about?”
“You need a date for the party. But it can’t be just anyone. You need to prove to the world that you’ve moved on after what happened.”
Something about her tone sets off warning bells in my head, but I don’t know why.
“I can do that without a date.” I’m assuming she’s referring to the accident. Except why would I need a date to prove to everyone that I’ve moved on from it?
But this is Lucinda, so I’m sure in her mind it makes perfect sense.
“It’s already been arranged,” she says.
“Arranged with whom?”
“Cameron Vansteen.” There’s no missing the slight irritation in her tone because it’s obvious I haven’t been listening to at least part of her one-sided conversation.
Cameron has been living in Norway for the past several months, working on some start-up venture there—and getting it on with a member of the royal family.
But you didn’t hear that last part from me.
“His good looks make him the perfect choice,” Lucinda says.
I bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud. She has managed to make him sound like a piece of steak.
“I still don’t know why I need a date, but fine, I’ll go with him.” It’s not like it will be a realdatedate. Cameron will be more like a paid escort, only he won’t get paid in the traditional sense.
For him, the party represents a networking opportunity. That’s the only reason he agreed to be my date.
* * *
“What’sthe worst date you’ve ever been on after the age of twenty?” Violet asks, stirring the sauce on the stove. Sophie and I are peeling and cutting the vegetables.
We’ve been working on dinner for the past thirty minutes. That in and of itself is a blast. We like to talk.
About everything.
Okay, maybe not everything. We don’t go into intimate details about our relationships—a.k.a. no bedroom talk. What we do in the bedroom stays in the bedroom.
“That would have to be the guy who ended up being my boyfriend after college,” Sophie says, expertly dicing the carrots. A skill I’ve yet to master.
“Was it a first date?” I ask.
She nods. “Our mutual friends introduced us. We saw a movie and went out for pizza. Which would have been fine, but the waiter was a guy I had been crushing on in college. I hadn’t seen him in a while, but apparently the crush still hadn’t resolved itself.”
Violet laughs and we both look at her. “Sorry, but I have a feeling I know where this is going.”
“I think you do,” Sophie says. “The waiter asked me what I would like to order. Back then, I couldn’t talk to guys I crushed on. The words came out in whatever order they felt like, and I’d sound like a complete idiot.”
“And that’s your worst date? You couldn’t order your meal?” That doesn’t sound too bad. “You could at least talk to your date, right?”
