Page 10 of The Billionaire's Masquerade Ball

They had died in May; this was a random Friday in December. Did he come often, as she did? She hadn’t seen him on any of her visits before. Maybe he came on random days, simply when he thought of them. Cynder couldn’t stop the questions in her mind. It was as though seeing his grief while she was in a vulnerable state of her own made her feel bonded to him in some inescapable way. She sighed, feeling her phone buzz in her coat pocket. She needed to get back to the office. The gala was tomorrow and Gail had been hounding her all day about the final details, even though Cynder was two steps ahead of everything she asked.

Cynder touched each of the headstones, saying a silent prayer for this family that had been torn apart and for the shell of a man left behind. Then she tucked her head down and began the walk in the bitter cold back to her car.

* * *

“Take a breath,” Lucy said, from just behind Cynder.

Cynder took a deep breath, waiting. When she exhaled, Lucy pulled the ribbons of the corset that made up the back of the dress. “Ow,” Cynder said.

“Too much? It should feel fitted, not painful.”

“It’s just tight.”

“Let me see.” Lucy circled around Cynder, running her hands over the waist of the dress and poking her in a few places. “You’re being a baby. You just aren’t used to wearing something so fitted. But it looks ah-mazing. You could be a model, you know.”

“I’m too short,” Cynder said. “Models need to be like six feet tall or something. And I’m not skinny enough. You only think I’m tall because you’re so short.”

“I don’t know whether to start with the fact that you don’t think you’re skinny enough or the fact that you’re insulting me. Just because I can shop at GAP Kids…”

“That fact that you can doesn’t mean you should,” Cynder said. “And I don’t think I’m fat, but I’m not model-skinny either. I have curves.”

She gave a little shake in the dress. It actually felt kind of nice. She felt supported and secure. When she moved, the dress seemed to shift from a deep blue to a shimmery black color. She didn’t understand how or what material Lucy used, but it looked almost magical in the light as she moved.

Lucy stood back, running a hand through her short, blonde hair. With the pixie-like cut and her petite features, she reminded Cynder of Tinkerbell. When Cynder really wanted to get under her skin, she called her Tink.

“I think it looks perfect, if I do say so myself,” Lucy said. “You know you’re my muse, right?”

“I like being your muse if it means I get to wear your designs. Maybe one day I can keep one.”

“You can’t afford me. But get married and I’ll design your wedding dress as a gift.” Lucy said.

“Married. Ha! I have to go on a date first.”

“So, go on a date,” Lucy said. “Nothing stopping you except yourself. We’ve been over this. For, oh, the last ten years.”

“I don’t know any guys. It’s hard to meet people.”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “If you did more than work, maybe you’d meet one. The Young Adults group at church does lots of activities if you ever felt like coming with us. Tons of cute guys.”

Sometimes Cynder felt like she and Lucy were an old married couple, the way they had the same arguments and the same discussions again and again. It was mostly light-hearted bickering. They had been best friends since elementary school and were even roommates at Wheaton College. After college, Cynder moved back in with her Dad—until he married Gail. They had many arguments, but two were constant points of contention. The first was whether peanut butter and chocolate or mint and chocolate was the perfect combination. The other was about Cynder not dating.

She wasn’t trying not to date. It just sort of happened. Her dad had been protective of her and told her she couldn’t go on dates or have a boyfriend until high school. Guys began asking her when she was in middle school, dropping notes or calling the house since she didn’t have a cell phone until she was in high school either. After being told no so many times, they stopped asking by the time high school rolled around. Lucy said that guys were intimidated by her, which Cynder didn’t understand.

“You’re like Rapunzel,” Lucy used to say. “Beautiful and untouchable. Guys are just scared.”

By the end of high school she had only gone on two dates—both ones that Lucy had set up as double dates with her and whatever guy she had been dating at the time. Having a boyfriend had become such a huge deal that Cynder felt completely awkward and unable to make normal conversation on dates, though she had no trouble speaking her mind any other time. There was too much pressure. The longer she went without a boyfriend or without kissing someone, the more her walls built up around the idea of either.

Lucy assured her college would be different, but Cynder watched as girls all around her went on dates and got engaged, but somehow she didn’t. She wondered if she emitted some kind of anti-pheromones, repelling guys instead of attracting them.

Now fear held her back. It wasn’t normal to be twenty-six without having had a boyfriend or even a first kiss. It was a cycle she couldn’t get out of now. She hadn’t had a boyfriend and the fact that she hadn’t had a boyfriend kept her from getting a boyfriend. Lucy told her constantly that she was being stupid and needed to stop putting up walls and letting her fears hold her back. But Cynder didn’t know how to do that. She could talk to guys just fine, but the moment she thought about being interested in a guy or him being interested in her beyond friendship, it was like her mouth dried up to the point she couldn’t even talk. She self-sabotaged everything.

After college it was hard to meet people anyway. By now she just ignored the idea of dating altogether. Better to reject the idea of dating than feel rejected.

Secretly, Cynder longed for love. She couldn’t picture what kind of guy would swoop in and sweep her off her feet, but she hoped there was one out there. Lucy probably knew she felt that way, but Cynder never said it out loud. Instead, she was better at deferring. Changing the subject anytime Lucy brought up guys. Making excuses. It was the song and dance they did.

“Why do they have to call it ‘Young Adults’?” Cynder said. “I’ve never understood that. That sounds like teenagers. Aren’t books for teenagers called Young Adult? That’s just weird.”

“They called it Young Professionals, but then people who were still students or doing other things felt left out. What they call it doesn’t matter. The fact is that there are a lot of fun people in the group and definitely guys.”

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