Page 101 of The Proposal
Quickly, my thoughts turn to rationalization.
What will it hurt to ride this out? It’s just three months. We’re having fun. If I keep my mouth shut and don’t make this weird, I can slowly detach myself from him over the next few months so it hurts less when it’s over.
I nod as my plan coalesces in my brain. “Yes. Just admit reality, and you’ll be fine. Like Ella said in Vegas—manage the explosion so you don’t implode.” My brows pull together. “Or whatever.”
I need to do something to distract myself from this rabbit hole. Renn’s mention of dinner at his mother’s house jumps to my mind as if my declaration of love somehow puts pressure on meeting his family.
“I’m a fool,” I say, reaching for my phone anyway.
Me: Hi, Astrid! It’s Blakely. I promise I’m not needy. But can you give me some advice on what to wear to Renn’s parents’ house for dinner? I’m trying not to freak out.
Her response is immediate.
Astrid: No panicking. It’s not allowed. They are very casual, in a rich people way, when they’re together. I’d suggest a maxi dress or maybe dark denim jeans with a nice white button-down—chic but not overdone. Honestly, they aren’t going to judge you for what you wear.
Me: A white button-down? It’s obvious you don’t know me at all.
Astrid: Would you like me to send you a few options this afternoon? Whatever you don’t want, we’ll send back.
Is she kidding?
Me: That’s unnecessary.
Astrid: This is my job, Blakely. And I’m under your husband's exact orders to ensure you are happy and comfortable. If he finds out you’re worried about what to wear, and I know it … I like my job. Let’s keep it at that.
Me: We could not tell him.
Astrid: I’m sure it’s an adjustment, but this is your life now. I’m here to help. I get paid to help you. And, if I’m being honest, shopping for you will be much more fun than what I’m currently doing.
I pace the kitchen, nibbling my bottom lip.
Me: I feel very awkward about this.
Astrid: I’ll have a few things delivered this afternoon. I’ll let Foxx know to expect them. Let me know how they work. We’ll stay on it until we get it right.
Me: How do I pay for them?
Astrid: You’re funny. I’m off to shop!
“Dammit,” I say, setting my phone down and blowing out an exasperated breath.
A door shuts in the distance. I watch the doorway, hoping it’s Renn. But Foxx appears.
“Mrs. Brewer, Ella St. James is here to see you,” he says.
I plant my hands on the counter, grateful he can’t see that I don’t have on pants.
“He’s under an NDA. He won’t tell anyone how you sound when you’re moaning my name and begging me to fuck you harder.”
My cheeks flush. “Can you call me Blakely, please?”
“If you’d like.”
I stare at him, dazzled by his blue eyes.
“Blakely?” he asks again.
“What? Oh. Yeah.” I stand. “She’s my best friend.”
