Delaney James seems to have it all-a successful husband, a stylish Manhattan townhouse, and a thriving career in fashion journalism-until it all falls apart. Her husband leaves her, shattering the perfect life she once knew. Heartbroken and desperat...
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Greyson refuses to tell me where we're going. When I asked him for a hint, so I'd know what to wear, all he said was he wanted it to be a surprise. So, I've spent the entire day stressing. Are we going to a fancy restaurant, therefore I'll need to wear my nicest dress? Is he going to cook for us, and I can get by in a pair of distressed jeans and a simple shirt? Or will it be take-out in front of the television, and I can lounge in my comfiest sweats?
Either way, I'm a wreck.
"I thought this wasn't a date," Jo says. She promised me she'd help me get ready, but instead she's laying on my bed playing airplane with Hannah.
"It's not."
"Then why are you freaking out?"
"Why aw you fweakin' out?" Hannah repeats, her infectious laugh filling the room as Jo lifts her up into the air.
I stand in front of the mirror and hold a patterned romper against me, quickly tossing it into the growing rejection pileon the floor. "I'm not freaking out."
"Okay. Whatever you say."
"Kay. Whatevaw you say," Hannah mimics again. Jo looks at me as if to say, I told you so, and I now understand her aversion to bad language.
"What are you worried about? It's Greyson."
"Because." I slip into a black, floral print wrap dress and immediately hate it. It's comfortable and pretty, and hugs my slender waist flawlessly, but it's not right. "It's Greyson."
"Another great point," she says sarcastically.
I untie the dress and pull it off, tossing it at her, and disappear into my walk-in closet.
"I think I'm scared to be alone with him. I mean, we've been alone together since I've been back, but this'll be different. He's the one that got away, you know? He'll always be the one that got away. If I hadn't gone to NYU, we'd most likely be married with kids right now." I pull a pale-yellow skater dress over my head, admiring myself in the mirror before I take it off. Next comes a maxi dress, then a lavender, high-low maxi skirt with a white, underwire, eyelet crop top. It all looks good, but nothing feels right. "I'm just nervous, I guess."
"Don't think of it as a date then. Think of it as two old friends having dinner together. Two friends who were madly in love, used to sleep together, and planned on getting married, but you get what I'm trying to say."
I peek my head out of my closet and glare at her. "That simple, huh?"
"What's the worst that can happen, Del?"
The worst that can happen is that I remember what an amazing man he is, and how incredible it feels to be with him. To be seen by him. To feel safe. To be loved by him. I'm already repeating old behaviors, and if we spend more time alone together, I'm afraid I'm going to fall completely and get lost in the idea of what should have been.
