Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
ABBY
E xcuse me, what ?” I’ve been yelling myself out of a job, then nearly crying myself out of a job, and he asks me on…a date? A date on Valentine’s Day? What the actual fuck is happening? Mr. Bryant is the sexiest man I’ve ever been close to, but how could I trust him and enjoy time with him? “I’m sorry. I knew that accepting this job was a mistake. I’ll get my things and leave.”
Moving as quickly as I can, I turn my back on Mr. Bryant to leave his office. My agency will scream at me for walking out on a contract, especially one like this, which other temps would give their eye teeth to have.
“No!”
The force of Mr. Bryant’s voice startles and stills me. He gets up from the couch and comes over to me. The voice inside my head screams at me to flee now , but…there’s a look in Mr. Bryant’s eyes that stops me. He’s not angry, but more…scared? It doesn’t make any sense.
“Look,” I say, bracing myself for whatever is coming, “I don’t want your pity and I sure as hell don’t want to be your poor pity date. Besides, I’m pretty sure Cheyenne and Lisette are expecting you to ask one of them.”
“It’s not like that at all. You’re…you’re different, Abby. I like that. Do you know how long it’s been since someone stood up to me and was truly honest with me? A really fucking long time. Everyone in this office goes out of their way to do what they think I want them to do. I swear to God sometimes I wonder if any of them have anything resembling a backbone.”
“Are you actually serious?” My resolve wavers and a vague sense of discomfort settles on me. Going to the Rockin’ Hearts Ball would mean more than he could even imagine. It’s only the biggest music industry event of the year. I’ve dreamt of going since my mom first told me about it when I was little. My ultimate dream was to go as her plus-one when she performed there.
“Dead serious, Abby.” The look in his green eyes makes me catch my breath. His intensity makes him even more compelling and sexy. How is it that this man, with a chiseled face and equally chiseled body is dead set on taking me – frumpy Abby Moore me – to the Rockin’ Hearts Ball?
“I…I don’t really have anything to wear to something like that. Plus, saving money…”
“Not a problem,” he says, waving his hand. “I’ll have a private shopper contact you today. Dress, shoes, everything, it’s covered. No need to repay, no expectation of anything. Consider it a small effort in trying to do right by you and your mother’s memory.”
“Well,” I pause, uncertain about how I feel about this. “Thank you.”
The idea of a personal shopper and no budget is the stuff dreams are made of. The idea of trying to find something that fits and flatters my curves? That’s the stuff of nightmares. It’s hard enough to find regular clothes that fit well, much less fancy clothes.
“Good. If you weren’t already aware, the event is on Friday. I’ll have Cheyenne contact a stylist today, so you have what you need.”
I can’t wait to see the look on her face.
Even before we’re introduced, I know exactly when the stylist arrives to meet me, because I can hear Cheyenne from across the office, asking if the stylist can hook her up with a dress, too. I was hoping that I could just meet her somewhere after work, but when we spoke on the phone, she insisted on coming by to take my measurements and ask about my style. She said she plans on having some dresses ready for me to try on tonight, so there is more time for alterations.
“Here she is,” Cheyenne says, her voice filled with disdain. “As you can see, she might be…challenging.”
“Oh, not at all! Hi Abby! I’m Sarita. Let’s just go somewhere more private and get started, shall we?”
We make our way to one of the meeting rooms that doesn’t have floor-to-ceiling windows and a new wave of nerves crashes over me. Is it insane that I said yes? It’s certainly insane that he asked me to be his date. If I still have a job here next week, I know Cheyenne and Lisette are both going to make my life a living hell. It’s been nothing but snide remarks and them looking at me like they wish I’d just disappear forever, preferably by dying.
“Sorry, I know I’m probably not your normal type of client.” I sit down in an oversize chair, tugging at my shirt to hide my stomach. Sarita has been nothing but nice and bubbly, but I haven’t gotten to the point where I have a sense if I can trust her or if she’s going to be mean like Cheyenne and Lisette.
“Pssh. Don’t you worry about a thing. I have all kinds of clients. I’m not judgmental about people’s bodies and honestly, you’re an incredibly beautiful woman, Abby. What looks good on a thin woman is different from what will look good on you. I promise you, on my reputation, that I will make you feel like a princess.”
“I’m not too…” I don’t even like saying the word fat , even to just myself.
“Not at all! There are a lot more designers with plus-size lines than you realize.”
The genuine smile Sarita gives me makes me relax and feel like I can trust her. She didn’t even blink twice when she met me and saw my body.
“I’ll take your word on that.” I smile back at her. She has me stand still and she quickly takes a series of measurements, from my chest to my waist to the length of my legs, and then taps them into her iPad.
“Any requests? Color? Style? Something you’ve seen online or in a magazine?”
This all happened so quickly, thinking about what kind of dress I want never entered my mind. One voice in my head says to go conservative, since my boss is escorting me. Another voice says go sexy and go for it. This all seems like a fairy tale fantasy, so I’m going to pretend that it is. I may not get a magical kiss at the end of the night, but I’m going to ask for the dress of my dreams.
“I want a red dress. I want to look like a princess.”