Page 30 of Personal Escort

“Me, too.”

“You know, I was thinking…if we were married, you could stay.”

I’m not planning on staying. But there’s something about his face, his earnest expression, that makes me want to consider putting down roots for the first time. Maybe. Probably not.

“What do you think? Want to get married?”

As far as proposals go, it’s not that impressive. For some reason I don’t quite understand, I still say yes.

The end of the story needs some romantic massaging, but I’ve got time to work on it. Maybe we had the conversation whispered in the hallway at my building on campus, him leaning over me, one hand plastered against the wall, his lips brushing my ear…

That’s better.

And then he had to go back to work, because he’s always busy, and so I came here to find a dress.

Right.

What kind of dress do I want after that kind of proposal?

I slow down and cast my attention into the first store on my left, then the next. Sporty, funky…no, nothing like that. I should be humming with excitement. I want to remember this day, this private moment, for the rest of my life.

I cross to the other side and poke my head into a store there. Lots of tulle, promising. But everything is a bit fussy for the locations I’ve narrowed this down to. I think I’m going to get hitched on campus, because as Toby would say, that’s been my home here in this city.

That means some walking, depending where we want to do it. So the dress needs to be soft and light.

I keep hunting. Four more stores, four more nopes.

But the last shop at the end is perfect.

Three dresses leap into my arms, and I’m practically skipping as I head toward the change room.

None of them are designed to be wedding dresses, of course. I’m not going to go that far with this charade. The first one is short, the hem brushing my knees. It’s soft and floaty, with a bit more fabric in the back. Very romantic, and from a distance, anyone would think I was just on a date with my…Alex. My escort.

The second is pretty, but too pretty, really. It’s covered in glittery bits, some rhinestones and sequins here and there, and if we were eloping at night, maybe. Not for a daytime thing, though.

I giggle to myself as a perfect nighttime elopement springs fully formed into my head. I’ve been reading too much about weddings lately.

The last one is the longest, the chiffon skirt falling all the way to the ground. It’s the palest shade of blue I’ve ever seen, and even before I contort myself to zip up the snug, strapless bodice, I know it fits me like a glove.

It might not be the right dress to wear. The first one would suffice. I carefully unzip—after twirling twice—and then stand back so I can look at them both.

My heart is already set on the pale blue one. It looks like a sexy, modern version of Cinderella’s dress, if Cinderella liked her dresses strapless and so tight she didn’t need a bra.

Toby looks like Prince Charming…

And that’s reason enough for me to also buy the shorter yellow dress. There’s no way I’m getting fake-married in a dress that makes me fantasize about Mr. Right-If-He-Wasn’t-Totally-Off-Limits.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

TOBY

IT TAKES me a few hours to set up a secure email for Cara to communicate with “Alex”. The task itself takes two minutes. The worrying beforehand about whether or not it’s the right thing to do is what takes too damn long.

But when I pull the trigger and send her the details, I don’t feel the expected rush of regret. The truth is, there is no alternative. I can’t call her up and tell her I want to date her instead, that I can protect her from Nana’s meddling.

She deserves more than being tethered to a boyfriend on the other side of the continent. She deserves to be free, and this gets her that.

It doesn’t feel quite right, but it doesn’t feel as wrong as I expected, either.

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