Page 15 of Dirty Big Sins

ZIA

“Wait. Wear this one.”Julie rushed forward with a blue dress that caught me off guard.

“I didn’t realize I still had that.” I eyed the garment suspiciously, positive I’d gotten rid of it sometime in New York.

“I rescued it. But before you blast me for it, you have to know I couldn’t just dump it like you requested. It’s designer for Christ’s sake. And custom fitted for your figure. No one else was ever going to wear it and that wouldn’t just be a waste, it would be a crime.”

I rolled my eyes at her. “That’s a little dramatic, hon. Even for you. You know why I never wore it. It was meant for an occasion that never happened.” My ex-husband and I had been scheduled to host an important cooking competition together. I believed it would have marked a turning point in my career as a professional chef.

But days before the competition had been slated to begin, a case of E. coli had swept through the city and the restaurant where it would all take place had been shut down by the health department. Instead of moving to another venue, the producers of the special and my network had agreed to cancel the competition altogether.

It had been a blow for sure, but it was the chain of events it triggered that really fucked everything up. With filming shut down, I’d opted to surprise my husband at our upstate home two days early.

I shook my head free of the looming memories. I didn’t need to relive that night again.

“That’s far too formal for a night out with friends,” I said, pushing the dress back toward Julie.

She stared down on its sad form hanging loosely from the hanger and shrugged. “I guess you’re right.” She turned to place it back in the closet. “But we’re not getting rid of it. The perfect time for this dress will come and when it does, it’ll be here waiting for you.”

“Jesus, Julie. It’s just a fucking dress.”

She turned so sharply toward me I almost took a step back. “It’s never just a dress. If that were the case, you wouldn’t have been so eager to get rid of it.”

I didn’t know what had come over my assistant, but she was acting weird as hell.

“How about this one?” She handed me a simpler black dress that I’d always loved. A little, somewhat form-fitting number, with a small, ruffled cap sleeve that fluttered against my arms. It was far more appropriate for dinner and fun with friends than the sexy siren blue one.

“Yes, much better,” I agreed, taking the dress from her. “How’s our to-do list looking after today?”

Julie smirked. “Like a nightmare per usual. What shoes do you want to wear?”

“You don’t have to dress me. That’s not exactly part of your job description.”

This time she laughed. “Maybe not. But left to your own devices, I’m afraid you’ll end up back on the couch in leggings and a sweatshirt. I’m doing my part to get you out of this suite.”

I fought not to roll my eyes and failed. “Thanks, Mom.”

She clutched at her chest. “What a horrible insult.”

She wasn’t wrong. My assistant might be paid to be here with me, but she still cared more about my life than my own mother. That probably sounded harsh, but Sofia Mezzanotte, had checked out of motherhood the moment my father died.

“Sorry.” I should have laughed off the exchange, but my emotions were still a little raw from the last several days. My mother’s inability to cope with change aside, the nonstop turmoil of current events had me more on edge than ever.

“I was joking. Although maybe you’re right. I’m going to go change for dinner and meet you there.” She glanced at the clock on her phone. “In about forty-five minutes.”

I nodded. “Sounds good. I know I haven’t sounded particularly grateful through all of this, but I really am.” I touched her arm and squeezed. “You are a good friend.”

“This too shall pass, Zia. But for what it’s worth, I think you should talk to him. Maybe there’s more to his story than the obvious. There are always two sides and the truth often falls somewhere in the middle.”

She didn’t stay and wait for any kind of response and as I watched her leave the closet, my phone buzzed with an incoming text as if on cue.

I didn’t need to look to know who it was from. The sudden knot in my stomach guessed correctly. And as much as I wanted to pretend I didn’t care, I picked up my phone and swiped it open to read the message anyway.

Vincent: Time’s up.

Two words were all it took to make my heart flutter and my stomach quiver a little bit. I’d known he wouldn’t wait much longer. Instinct also told me if I didn’t answer him now, then it would only escalate from there.

Me: Still not ready.

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