Page 86 of Things I Overshared
You got it, Bestie.
Good night.
Night!
I have to keep myself from squealing as I toss my phone down next to me in bed. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice of reason is trying to remind me that on the whole, that was a text conversation between two friends. But that voice is being drowned out by my inner romantic self, who’s screaming and jumping because the man I can’t stop thinking about not only texted with me for an hour, but he also notices my outfits and he has my face (and a hint of my boobs) as the lock screen on his phone!
There was nothing romantic in our chat, nothing sweet, yet still, I can’t help but feel like the last hour broke down multiple layers of the cold, hard wall Emerson keeps around himself. I can totally be warm and soft enough for the both of us. I can also easily charm his family enough to erase all the flimsy reasons he “can’t” be with me. After all, he’s cut from similar cloth: family legacy, multi-generational empire, high-profile life, pressure, expectations, pride, honor . . .
How hard could one evening be?
Chapter 26
It takes absolutely all my willpower not to blow up my sisters with texts, including a selfie of what I’ve got going on in the mirror in front of me. The bright lilac dress is tight, maybe slightly tighter now than at the beginning of the trip.Curse you, adorable afternoon tea showing up everywhere, every single day!
A lightning bolt runs through me as I smooth the fabric down on my hips, because he chose this dress. It’s a sleeveless sheath I normally wear under a blazer, with a scoop neck that’s low enough to be alluring, but not so low that I can’t wear it to the office. I leave my hair down and style it in big curling waves that probably won’t hold all night. I opt for my strappy nude heels rather than a sexier stiletto, just in case this is more of a backyard barbecue situation. Because I can’t help myself, I opt for hot-pink hoop earrings and matching bangle bracelets. I’m wearing nude shoes, after all.
My hands shake a bit as I walk to meet him in our entryway. “Well, will this do?” I say, gesturing over my ensemble.
He clears his throat as he looks up. “It will.” He answers with his voice flat. I’m about to tease him about his complimenting skills when I notice.
“Okay, that isit! I am not leaving this room until you tell me what the heck is up with your ties. That thing matches this dressexactly! Wait, is that why you picked this dress? You knew you had a purple tie? But even so, sincewhendo you have purple ties?!”
A hint of a smile flashes on his face for a second. “You don’t approve?”
“Answer. The. Question.”
He starts talking as he opens the door for me. “I only packed white, gray, black, and tan. In hopes of maintaining our truce, I asked Ms. Wayne to pick up some ties that would . . . brighten me up.”
“Why?”
He walks down the hall as he talks. “Because you like bright colors.”
I follow him into the elevator slowly, not believing what I’m hearing. “Don’t you hate bright colors?”
“Not necessarily, no.”
“So, you bought ties in crazy colors, for me?”
“Ms. Wayne did, technically.”
I sigh. “Don’t try and ruin it for me, Bestie.”
He grins and puts his hands up in surrender as we leave the elevator. I greet Charlie, and we get settled in for the drive, which I notice will be an hour.
“An hour, no wonder we’re leaving so early.” Emerson just nods in response. “That’ll give you plenty of time to give me the lowdown on the mighty Clarks. Charlie, did you know Emerson here is aClark IndustriesClark?”
“I did, Miss Samantha.”
“And you never said anything! You sly dog. Emerson, give this man a raise.” Charlie blushes, and Emerson sighs, but it’s one of his lighterI’m not really as irritated as I want to let onsighs. I turn to face him a bit more in my seat. “So? What can I expect this evening?”
“Dinner, I assume.” His dry response earns a chuckle from Charlie up front.
“Charles, I heard that. I take back what I said about the raise. You can’t encourage Grump’s little jokes like that!” I turn back. “C’mon, the more you give me, the better buffer I’ll be.” Emerson winces, but I push on. “Let’s start with the roster. Who will be there?”
“My parents, brothers, sister-in-law, niece, uncle, possibly some family friends or cousins as well.”
“Okay, great. How about your mom—what is she like?”
