Page 8 of Touch in the Dark

Despite her suggestion to avoid shopping, I talk Jenna out of abandoning the idea. Not that I will use her fiancé’s credit card, I have my own money thank you very much. But I do want to look amazing tonight. For myself obviously. And Remi is right, I could meet someone tonight, I’m open to anything.

We have a lot of fun and end up in Bloomingdales on the Upper East Side, a place I never thought I’d be shopping in. All I keep thinking about is Gossip Girl, but as ever, Jenna has no clue what I’m talking about.

After spending two hours going through the women’s department, I settle on a 1920’s Gatsby style, silver and black dress. It’s so gorgeous I almost faint when I touch the beautiful silk and handmade lace fabric. The beading is exquisite too and Jenna has to pick my jaw up off the floor. The price is eye popping, but I decide it’s worth it and it looks so hot on. Standing in the changing rooms, I run my hand over the gorgeous fabric. It is a high neck halter, leaving my shoulders and arms bare. It reaches to mid-thigh with the lace trailing a little longer than the hem line.

I absolutely am not thinking about who is going to be eating their heart out when they see me in this dress, but Jenna keeps eyeing me knowingly. I treat myself to a pair of black velvet four-inch-high Mary Jane shoes, with an intricate silver buckle at the ankle too.

While we’re finishing up, Jenna gets a text from Adam to say he’s booked us in to get our makeup done at the Charlotte Tilbury counter. I want to be offended but then decide it’s nice to be pampered for once, and am all in. Only Aidan Gass could get us a last-minute appointment here. Hell knows what he paid for it. Jenna just rolls her eyes, especially when he asks for her to send pictures of her new dress from the changing rooms.

“He’s a dirty perv,” I laugh. “I know he doesn’t want to see you in a dress.”

“Well, whatever, he won’t see anything because I am not buying a new dress. I don’t need one, I have a closet full of them.”

“I love that about you.”

“What? There are more important things to spend money on. A dress I’ll only wear once is not one of those things.”

I grab her by the arm and drag her over to the makeup counter.

We meet up with Brooke and Megan, Jenna’s other best friends, a couple of hours later, and have cocktails in Brooke’s apartment. I do their makeup for them, before I head back to Remi’s to help him prepare for the party.

“So, tell me really,” he is standing in front of a full-length mirror doing up the cufflinks on his expensive powder blue shirt. “How are you feeling about seeing him?”

“It’s not a big deal, Remi, really. You don’t need to keep bringing it up.”

“You told me he was the love of your life.”

“I was sooo drunk when I said that. We barely spent any time together. I didn’t love him.”

There went that stupid brow arch again. I know what he’s doing, he wants me to fill the silence and spill my guts, but I will never do it. Because there is nothing to spill. Not a single thing.

“Okay, answer me this. If he walks in here, with a woman on his arm, how is that going to make you feel?”

“Amazing,” I say. “Happy for him. Sad for her, cos he’ll shit all over her heart too.”

Remi laughs knowingly. “What you need is to get under someone else.”

I scrunch up my nose. “I don’t need a man to get over a man.”

“Who said anything about having a man. I’m talking about sex. You need some. Tonight. And not with him. Unless you really want to.”

“I do not,” I huff out.

“Want sex or sex with him?”

He is making me all flustered. So what if I haven’t done it since Nick? It’s a lifestyle choice. A, ‘I’d much rather be sitting on the sofa eating ice cream from a giant tub than look for another man,’ kind of choice.

He slips his arms into the jacket of his suit, tugs on the cuffs and then smooths down the lapels, barely glancing in the mirror as he turns to me. He looks so much like an old black and white movie star. He’s stunning.

“Why can’t you be straight, Remi?”

“If I had a nickel for every time I heard that line,” he grins at me. “Anyway,” he walks to the dresser and grabs a small bag, then returns and hands it over. “I got you this.”

“What is it?” I ask.

“Open it,” he rolls his eyes as he does up the bottom button on his suit jacket.

I open the bag and find a Tiffany box inside. I look back up at him, eyes and mouth wide. He reaches over and uses his pointer finger, pushing my chin up to close my mouth.

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