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I’m sure he is. I actually hate that she’s right. “It’ll be fine,” I say. “Tell me I can come.”

“Fine,” she says.

“I should also confess that I might have mentioned the details to Emerson.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s fine. He probably would have pried them out of Jake anyway.”

I’m on my way out the door when something hits me. I have no idea what to wear. “Hey, so what are you planning to?—”

But when I turn around, she’s already gone.

8

BEA

Ialways panic when any kind of performance looms.

What was I thinking, telling Easton he could come? It wasalmostas bad as when I told that woman he works with that he did have a girl he liked. I must have lost my mind.

She’s breathtaking.

Is there a chance that he really thinks that? Or is he a lot smoother than Emerson and Elizabeth seem to think he is? Emerson says he’s not a player—quite the opposite. He says Easton has never played at all.

He says he’s a bench-sitter.

Just like me.

Sometimes I believe it. Others, like when he’s commanding the attention and respect of an entire room full of savvy business people, I have no idea how that could possibly be true. He reminds me of Uncle Bentley, but even more focused. Before he realized how he felt about Aunt Barbara, Uncle Bentley was a dating disaster, so it feels like it’s much more likely Easton just doesn’t show his family that side of who he is.

But to tell him that it was fine if he came tonight?

Complete idiocy on my part.

I’m already so nervous that I can barely breathe. The thought of Easton watching me completely embarrass myself is horrifying.

“I can’t go,” I whisper.

Jake wraps an arm around me and steers me back into my bedroom. “Not in that, you can’t.”

“I like these pajamas,” I protest.

“The little pink cats wearing tiaras are very cute.” Jake shoves me toward my bed and starts rummaging around in my closet. “This selection is appalling, you know. One of these days, you really need to take me up on my offer to buy you some clothes that aren’t outdated and frumpy.”

“In order to do that, I’d have to go somewhere in public. I avoid?—”

“Don’t I know it.” Jake’s shaking his head. “But sadly, your best option is this.” He chucks a cream and white striped sheath dress at my head. “Put it on.” He walks out the door without even looking at me to see whether I agree.

That’s how he’s always been. “What about the blue dress with the?—”

“No.” Jake doesn’t even bother raising his voice. “Just put that one on. We’re already cutting it close.”

With the way he drives, we won’t be close—we’ll be early. I grumble as I drag my pajamas off and pull my dress over my head. When I come out, the dress a little tighter than I like, Jake’s still shaking his head.

“What now?”

“You are not wearing those.” He points at my wedges.

“They’re comfortable,” I say. “And I won’t fall on my face in them, which is an undervalued attribute.”

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