Page 24 of Wingwoman
“Anytime,” Max said quietly.
“I’ll text Brent and let him know you’re coming—”
“No,” she said, cutting me off. “I still have his number. I’ll get in touch directly. You definitely don’t need to talk to him. I’ll text you when I have the boxes and your Dolce and Gabbana.”
I snorted a laugh and shook my head. “Thanks for looking out, Max.”
“And my offer still stands if your dad needs an expert’s help planning this wedding.” I rolled my eyes, smiling at my bestie.
“I will let him know, just like always.”
A knock came at my door and I tilted my head at it questioningly.
Huh.
“Who’s that?” Max asked, obviously hearing the loud knock as well.
“I honestly don’t know.” I eyed the door as I made my way over to peek out the side window.
Like any good Millennial, the idea of unannounced visitors and speaking with people is not high on my list.
There wasn’t anything particularly concerning or worrisome about a knock on the door, of course. But here in Texas where the only people I knew were my Dad and his new family? I couldn’t imagine who it might be.
Through the window, I spotted the back of a delivery guy as he turned away, heading back to an unmarked van.
It wasn’t FedEx or UPS. But he was in a clean and crisp uniform.
And left on my doorstep was a largish box, wrapped with plain blue paper and a gold ribbon. “It’s… a package.”
“Did you order something?”
“No.”
I waited until the delivery guy was gone, then grabbed the box and pulled it inside. Smoothing my fingers over the gold ribbon, I noted that it wasn’t the cheap kind you find in the ribbon aisle of Michaels. It felt like real silk.
I tugged gently on the end and the bow unraveled to reveal a beautiful gold silk scarf.
“Holy crap,” I hissed as my fingers hit the C insignia on it. “The package is wrapped with a Chanel scarf.”
“No!” Max squealed. “Chanel?! Do you think it’s from Brent?”
I shook my head even though Max couldn’t see me. “He doesn’t have my address down here.”
Heat erupted over my face. There was only one person other than Brent who I knew who might wrap a present in a Chanel scarf…
I lifted the gold embossed envelope and flipped it open.
Give me a muse and I will spend our forever painting her with my words. -Atticus
I read the card out loud and was met with Max’s slow whistle of approval. “I like this guy,” she said.
“You would,” I joked. “You’re a total whore for Chanel.”
“Whoisn’ta whore for Chanel?” she shrieked in reply.
I unwrapped the paper carefully and tilted my head, not recognizing the brand name printed on the box… Lucchese. “Huh.”
“What?” Max cried out. “What is it? The anticipation is killing me!”
