Page 83 of Must Have Been Love

“You’ll find out tonight I guess. And I’m wearing a suit because I have a meeting when we get to New York.”

“New York?” I do a double take, thinking I misheard. “I thought we were going to the mainland?”

“Last time I checked, Manhattan was definitely on the mainland.” His voice is teasing.

“The mainland means the town.” I point at the church spire that rises above the houses ahead of us along the shoreline. “Doesn’t it?” Now I’m confused. This is what happens when you don’t live somewhere all your life. You take on their language but then you use it wrong.

“It can mean anything. But today it means New York.”

“How long will it take to drive to New York?” I ask, folding my arms in front of me.

He smiles at how pouty I sound. “We’re not driving, we’re flying.”

“What?” I blink. “We’re taking a plane?”

He shakes his head. “A helicopter. It’s a lot faster. I have to be in a meeting at two. Don’t worry, there’s a spa at the hotel. I thought you could try it out before the party.”

“Theparty?” My brows lift so high I swear they’re touching my hairline. “What party?”

“I told you. There’s a business thing this evening. We just need to show our faces.”

“You didn’t tell me it was a party.” My heart does a little gallop. “I can’t go to a party.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Dear god, why is he such aman? “Parties require planning. I need to figure out what to wear, get my hair ready. Bring the right makeup. It takes weeks to prepare for a party. Not a few hours.”

He tips his head to the side, not getting it at all. “You look good like that.”

My mouth drops open. “You want me to go to a party in jeans and a band tee?”

“For somebody who doesn’t care what people think you seem remarkably anxious about fitting in,” he says, echoing his words of the other day. “Relax, it’ll be fine. What would Stevie Nicks do?”

My mouth gapes open. “You’re using Stevie against me now?” I hate that he knows it will work.

“I’m just pointing out that I want you to come to the party because you’reyou. I don’t give a fuck what you wear. Now if you do, then that’s a different matter and we can do something about that.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“It means we’re going to be in New York. If you want a designer dress there are a hundred shops I can ask my driver to take you to. Or I can arrange for some dresses to be brought to the hotel.”

“You want toPretty Womanme up?” I ask, my brows lifting.

“No. I didn’t say that. For a start, I wouldn’t fucking dare.”

I hate that he makes me laugh right now. But he does, and I can’t hide it.

“You’re so annoying,” I tell him. “You could have told me that we were going to New York.”

“I’m sorry. I thought it was obvious. You’re meeting my lawyer tomorrow.”

“I figured he came here to meet with you,” I say in a small voice.

“Not unless it’s an emergency. It’s a lot easier to meet with him when I’m in New York for business.”

That makes sense. “But the party…”

“I said we were going out for dinner,” he points out.

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