Page 40 of The Tryst

I buy the shirt, then toss the bag over my shoulder when we head out. Jules waggles her phone. “I called the You Look Pretty Today owner while you were buying the top. The Valentina corset is waiting for you. A gift from Harlow and me,” she says.

I throw my arms around each of them, then I wave goodbye and head to the subway, shedding my fears about tomorrow, deciding I can handle any conversation or question that comes my way.

* * *

With the hint and the headline tucked into my bag, I make my way to Neon Diner.

Maybe the corset is already giving me superpowers, because I fire off a text to Nick as I walk up Madison.

Lola: I shopped for tomorrow.

Nick: I can’t wait to see what’s under your clothes.

Lola: Did I say I was shopping for underthings?

Nick: You didn’t have to.

Lola: Maybe I shopped for overthings.

Nick: You didn’t.

With a buzz under my skin, I pull open the door to Neon Diner. A voice behind me says, “Let me guess—you went shopping.”

Tucking my phone away, I let go of the door and turn around in time to swat David’s shoulder with my bag from Champagne Taste. “You say that like I’m a clothes horse.”

“Well, you don’t exactly wear garbage bags in your videos,” David says, then holds open the door, like a gentleman.

Like someone else I’ll be seeing soon.

I chide myself.Focus on your friend right now. Tomorrow night is all about Nick. Tonight is David time.

We breeze inside and tell the woman at the hostess stand that we’re looking for a booth. She points us toward a spot in the back.

“Sidebar,” I say as we head to the booth, “My friend Raven once made a super-hot dress from a garbage bag. She’s a fashion designer. We went to business school together, and she’s all about low-impact creation. You’d like her.” Then an idea springs, fully-formed, into my mind. “I could ask her to make some threads for the auction. Like to donate to a winner.”

He whistles in appreciation then bows dramatically. “I’m not worthy of you,” he says. His hair doesn’t flop over this time. He cut it a few weeks ago. Trimmed the beard too. He’s rocking the banker style.

“That is true. So I’ll let you pay tonight,” I say.

“Happily, because I have an expense account now.” He shifts gears once we slide into the booth and points toward the bag by my side. “I see a black satiny thing peeking out of there. Does that mean you’ve got a hot date this weekend?”

Not that I’m trying to hide the corset, but I didn’t mean to advertise my lingerie. I tuck it back into the canvas bag. But the date itself isn’t a secret. That’s one of the nice things about truly being friends with your ex. We don’t need to hide what we’re up to romantically. “Maybe I do.”

“So, ’fess up. Who are you cheating on me with?”

The man in my texts. Is he even in town yet? I’ve no idea when he’s due to arrive, and I like the mystery. “Just this sexy, powerful man I met a few months ago at a conference.”

That felt good to say. Freeing even. I’m not seeing Bryce Fancypants the Third, or Carson Winters of the East Hamptons Winters. I’m seeing a man my mother would lose her mind over. “He’s coming to town for work,” I add. “He wanted to see me while he was here.”

The twinkle in David’s eye says he knows what I’ll be up to in twenty-four hours. He gestures to my clothing bag, but then the waitress swings by with water. Once she takes our orders, David lifts his glass. “I’ll drink to your lingerie being ripped off tomorrow night.”

That seems likely, so I clink back. Then we get to work reviewing the auction plans. “I’ve got tennis lessons on the auction list now. Mama Rose corralled someone at the club to auction those off,” he says.

“And Harlow used her pull at the gallery to convince her favorite artist to donate a sketch drawing. Zara Clementine is a huge animal lover, so it’s great.”

“And I asked my dad if he could help out. He’s well-connected so he might be able to scrounge up some good donations.”

“Ooh, Daddy Bancroft. Work it,” I say, using the nickname David gave his father back in college.

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