Page 35 of Prelude To You

“It might be a little bling for an auction?” I said carefully.

“If you don’t like the dress, just say so.”

“Well, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, Meg.”

“You’re not hurting my feelings, Isabel. I don’t give a shit if you like my clothes. This is about you. Considering my feelings at this point is just a waste of time.”

Almost before she stopped speaking, a dress in her closet caught my eye. It was black and as elegant a garment as I was ever going to find in Meg’s closet. “Is that a new dress?” I asked eagerly.

“Funny you should pick that one,” she said, pulling the dress from the hanger. “So get this, my cousin bought it at a fancy used clothes store, God only knows why. She’s a large and this is a small, and she’s totally pear-shaped. It’s not like this style would look good on her anyway.”

“She’s always on a diet,” I said. “Maybe she was hoping it might fit one day.”

Meg scrunched up her face. “Like that’s ever going to happen. So then she tried to pawn it off on my sister, who was like no-thank-you, and then my sister had the balls to wrap it up as a birthday gift to me. I’m not as curvy as any of them, but I couldn’t even get it over my shoulders, so it should fit you perfectly. And since you don’t own any great dresses, I was going to give it to you for Christmas. So Merry Christmas!”

I grabbed the dress from Meg. “Christmas came early! I love it, thank you!”

As good fortune would have it, I fit into that sweet number like a hand in a glove. The top was sleeveless silk with a simple round neck, and the flowing skirt was a loose, ruffled chiffon that ended just above the knee. It was sexy yet classy and feminine.

Meg circled me, checking me out from every angle, and shook her head in amazement. “Holy shit, this dress was made for you.”

I looked in the mirror. “Now I can finally use that small evening bag my mom got from her mom,” I said.

“I told you, this was meant to be. Also wear your fake Louboutin heels. Do your hair and makeup. We have twenty minutes before Felix gets here. And you’re welcome to use my new mascara. Not like you need it with those lashes of yours, you beautiful bitch.”

Fifteen minutes later I walked into the living room, where Meg was demolishing what was left of the pizza. She looked me up and down like she was Anna Wintour. “I’m beginning to feel sorry for this guy now. He doesn’t stand a fucking chance. You’re a goddamn picture!”

“I’m still nervous,” I said.

She shoved a glass with two drops of wine in my hand. “Nervous is good, nervous works.”

“And you figure that how?”

“It makes you think before you speak. I mean let’s face it, a few centuries ago you would have been the first to burn at the stake for conducting some conversations the way you do.”

I was outraged. “Now it’s wrong that I stand up for myself?”

“No, you should always stand up for yourself. But you should also know when to back down. And let’s face it, you have a hard time doing that sometimes.”

It was useless to argue with Meg over something I knew to be true. “Fine. But what do I say to him!? How do I even start the conversation!?”

Meg mimicked me. “Small world, look who’s here. Thanks for the book. I pick you to be the daddy of my child… I don’t know, Isabel. I pray it comes to you.”

Meg’s phone dinged. “Come let’s go, Felix is here.”

“How did you get Felix to give me a ride? I thought you broke up.”

“We’re on again,” Meg said.

“And that all happened between last night and now?”

“Blame it on convenience. Tinder is a shitshow. Let’s go.”

I precariously navigated the one flight of stairs in my four-inch fake Louboutin heels. Adding wine to the whole mix wasn’t exactly helping, but with Meg’s propping me up I safely reached the ground floor.

Mrs. Robinson peeked out her first-floor apartment window and looked ecstatic that I appeared to be going on a date. She waved at me, and I waved back.

What she didn’t know was that I had no idea what I was walking into. And that I didn’t even know if my “date” would show up. It nevertheless made her very happy, and who was I to deny her cherished hopes for the end of my celibate life.

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