Page 111 of The Honest Affair

“Okay. It’s legit. But, baby, this is too—”

“Stop,” she interrupted. “I already said I can’t send it back. So please do me a favor and just try it on. Hang up and FaceTime me, please.”

I signed, then I did as she asked.

“All right,” I said once she answered the call. “Here it is.”

She didn’t speak at first, although I definitely enjoy the way her gaze turned hungry as I backed away from where my phone was propped on the bureau and put on the clothes.

“Well?” I asked once I had everything on except for the tie. My shirt cuffs were still open too—I’d pick out a pair of cuff links later.

But when I turned to the mirror, I didn’t need her to answer. The damn thing fit like a glove. I looked like a million—no, a billion—dollars.

“I think…I think I need to see it in person,” she said breathlessly. “Matthew, it looks wonderful.”

I turned from side to side, peacocking left and right. “I think it looks all right,” I conceded.

“More than all right.”

I took off the jacket and hung it carefully before returning to talk to her. “I still don’t understand why you went through all this trouble. It’s not like I can even escort you properly tonight.”

“I did it because, oh, Matthew, it’s finally happening! I didn’t want to say until I knew for sure, but the lawyers called today and said not only did we win in probate court, but also that Calvin is finally willing to sign the papers this week. Tomorrow, in fact!”

“Are you serious?” I asked. “Tomorrow, you’re going to be a free woman?”

“Yes!” she said. “So I want to celebrate tonight. A little, if you don’t mind.” She crowded the screen like an excited little girl, her face shining with eager happiness. It was contagious.

“I want to tell everyone,” she said. “We can make our announcement later this week, but tonight, Matthew, once we’re inside, we don’t have to hide anymore! It’s a closed event. No photographers. They’ll even collect cell phones inside the ballroom. We can dance all night if we want to, not just for one song…” She smiled sweetly to herself, clearly caught up in the same memory I’d had. “I wanted to celebrate. This is just one token of my gratitude to you. For all you give me. For how much you love me. Please say you’ll accept it.”

“Deal,” I said, unable to keep the stupid grin off my own face. I couldn’t lie. I’d do just about anything to make her happy. “Now what, duchess?”

“Now,” she said. “Will you please let that poor seamstress back into the house to do the final adjustments? She’s probably getting cold on your front porch.”

I blinked. “You mean the messenger?”

“Who is actually one of the seamstresses who brought the suit all the way from Paris, yes. Please go downstairs and let her do her job.” Nina preened prettily for the camera. “And then I want you to come straight here when you’re done, please. So I can show you in person just how handsome I think my fiancé looks.”

---