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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After I got home last night, I stared at Greyson's contact number in my phone, going back and forth on whether I should call and cancel. What if it goes horribly and ruins all the progress we've made, or worse, what if it goes really well? Greyson and I are on completely different paths. I'm in the midst of getting a divorce, and nowhere near ready for a relationship with someone else – even if that person is Greyson. If this date goes well and I lose myself in him even more than I already have, we'll be at a crossroad, and I don't know if I have the strength to walk away from him again.
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 that he wants it to be a surprise, but to bring a sweater or a jacket. So, I've spent the entire day stressing. Does he intend on using his name and flashing his major league baseball money to wine and dine me at 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 my favorite Chinese 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 earlier she'd come over and 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?"
"Yeah, Auntie Waney," Hannah says, her infectious laugh filling the room as Jo lifts her up into the air. "Why aw you fweakin' out?"
I stand in front of the mirror and hold a sage green, twist front cut-out dress 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. Jo looks at me as if to say, I told you so, and I now understand her aversion to bad language.
"Seriously, Del. 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 quite 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'm scared to be alone with him. We've been alone together since I've been back. It's just, he's the one that got away. He'll always be the one that got away. If I hadn't gone to NYU we'd most likely be married with a couple of kids right now." I pull a pale yellow, lace, midi skater dress over my head, admiring myself in the mirror before I take it off. Next comes a cream, floral print, off-the-shoulder maxi dress and a lavender, high-low maxi skirt with a white, underwire, eyelet crop top. Everything I put on looks good, but nothing feels right. "I'm just nervous, I guess."
