Page 57 of End Game

Mara,

Wear the dress.

See you soon,

Leo

Something about the masculine curves and swoops of his handwriting felt like an intimate demonstration of him. My heart pitter-pattered in my chest as I pulled at the bow, letting the shimmering gold material fall to the bed. Gently lifting the lid of the box, I found delicate red satin, bright and folded in on itself. I let the lid fall to the bed where it landed on top of the ribbon, and I simply stared at it.

I didn’t have to inspect it further to know it was nicer than anything I’d ever owned. Nicer than anything that had ever been wrapped around my skin. I couldn’t wear this tonight . . . it would be a cherry on top of the already sordid delusion I found myself in each morning I woke up in Leo’s bed. I didn’t belong here, and soon this little Cinderella story would come to an end.

Surely I had something I could wear instead. Though the gesture pierced me in the best way, I couldn’t possibly accept. It was . . . too much.

Turning to the closet where I’d tucked away the few clothes I brought for the week, determination settled over me. Last night’s dress probably could have worked, even though it didn’t hold a candle to the one in the box, but I’d already foolishly worn it. I’d wanted to look good for him, for our date. Idiot, I chastised, groaning loud enough that Dolly’s ears perked. Besides clothes for work or training at the gym, the only other options I had were a pair of jeans, a pair of faux-leather leggings, and a handful of ratty T-shirts.

There was absolutely no way any of this would get me through the door. I would be a laughing stock to Leo’s parents if I even tried. I eyed the box on the bed again, feeling a swirl of nerves running rampant as I considered what it would mean to accept something like this. Once I wore it, he wouldn’t be able to return it, right? Unless . . . maybe I could keep the tags on it, and if I was really careful not to stain it, we could pretend it had never been worn and he could get his money back.

It might be a drop in the bucket to Leo, but it wasn’t to me. And more than anything else, that fact blazed through me with renewed awareness. I was already gaining a foothold into Larkspur—this felt like way too much.

I walked back toward the box and gently lifted the buttery satin, holding it up in front of me. As the dress slipped down to the floor, I could see it was a gorgeous one-shoulder design with a slit in the skirt on the opposite side. A section of the middle was also cut out, and I gasped at how beautiful it was. The dress was elegant—classic in a way that would stay in style for a lifetime. But also, so me.

Shockingly, Leo had known my size—or at least he’d guessed right. A fierce need to put the dress on came over me, but I was still slick with sweat from training. I found a rogue hanger in the closet and hung the dress up on the top of the door frame in the bathroom, hoping the steam from a hot shower would take care of any small creases from the time spent in the box.

I showered in record time, making quick work of shaving my legs and washing my hair. I’d decided to leave my hair down in soft waves and opted for a natural makeup look, hoping to lean into my own feminine elegance to complement the dress. And though I felt exposed at the notion of keeping things more natural tonight, I also realized I wanted Leo to see me this way—he’d seen me in looks suited for my place behind the bar, but something about slipping out of that persona tonight felt . . . right.

More so after our kind-of-real fake date last night.

I blow-dried my hair on the lowest setting, finger combing through it to avoid frizz, and I had to admit, the end result looked a lot more like the Mara from before. I stared at myself in the mirror and remembered the girl I used to be—the one who ached to fall in love and chase every dream. The one who was confident in her body, in her mind, and in her heart. I lined my eyes with a soft brown pencil and swiped mascara over my lashes. After applying a nude lipstick something still felt off . . . until I realized what it was. My septum ring.

I’d had it in since I got it pierced over a year ago, and I’d loved it every day since, but it clashed against the look I was going for tonight. Before I could think too much of it, I unscrewed the tiny gem that held the thin silver band together and carefully pulled it out of my nose. The effect was . . . dramatic.

It was the first time I’d looked this much like my old self again, like I was seeing the young girl who’d been buried beneath the rubble of so much damage. I couldn’t deny that this recent time spent with Leo made me feel more like her, too. I didn’t know what it meant, but I found myself taking shy steps forward and testing the water. Maybe it was time we both put our masks down and show up a little more authentically.

I heard a door shut from somewhere in the apartment.

Shit, I panicked—I wasn’t dressed yet.

“Mara?” I heard Leo call out from the foyer.

“I need two more minutes!” I hollered back as I turned to eye the dress that hung from the top of the door jamb. Quickly unzipping the side, I gingerly pulled it off the hanger and stepped into it, slipping one arm through at the top before looking back at myself in the mirror.

The dress was beautiful on me. It hugged my body like it’d been made for my curves. And while I felt like an imposter beneath the lush red material, I couldn’t deny the excitement and—admittedly—the heavy anticipation for Leo to see me like this.

At the thought, I turned off the light in the bathroom and moved out into the living room with careful steps so as not to step on the hem of the dress with my bare feet. I found Leo standing at the end of the hallway facing the other direction as he chuckled, watching Swift chase after an unamused Dolly.

“Hey,” I greeted softly from behind him.

He wheeled around, the casual grin on his face melting and heating into something molten as his eyes found mine. For a long moment, he didn’t say a thing as he looked me up and down—making no effort to hurry or hide it—until the corner of his mouth lifted in a drunken smile. “You look . . . wow, Mara. You look absolutely stunning.”

My heart glowed from inside of my chest. “Thank you. And . . . thank you for the dress. You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” he insisted, his eyes dropping to my bare shoulder as his throat worked. “You look more beautiful in it than I thought possible.”

I couldn’t help my own smile from breaking. All my nerves seemed to dissipate as I took in the tuxedo he was wearing, focused especially on the black bowtie at his throat presenting him to me like a gift. His hair was mussed in contrast, and his shoulders were strong and broad, shaped by the lines of his black tux jacket. An urge to slide my fingers beneath the lapels sparked in my fingertips. He looked so clean and polished that I wanted to mess it up. I wanted him disheveled and loose, as untamed and out of control as he’d made me feel.

But then a thought crashed through me, so unexpected I couldn’t contain the gasp that burst from my mouth. “Shit,” I whisper-yelled, looking down at my bare feet. “I don’t have any shoes to go with this!” My mind began racing through the pairs of shoes I knew had made it here from my apartment: black combat boots, leopard-trim Vans, an old pair of rubber flip-flops, the sneakers I ran to the gym in earlier . . . Nothing that would be remotely suitable for tonight.

I was instantly mortified, my face hot with shame for ruining all the effort Leo had gone to. Ruining this moment when, for the first time in far too fucking long, I felt comfortable in my vulnerability.

---