Chapter 7
“It is WAY too hot for September,” I groan, fanning myself as Grace and I push through the heavy brass doors into Bergdorf”s blessed air conditioning.
“Seriously, it”s like walking through soup out there.” Grace grimaces, tying up her hair to cool her neck. “It’s not just the weather. With the way things are going with Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Smoldering, ice water would be in order right about now, I suppose,” she teases. “I don’t see how he plans to be engaged to you and manage to keep his resolve.”
There is no version of this universe where I would have agreed to pick a ball gown without my older sister. After some pleading and emotional blackmailing, Grace agreed to take half a day off to help me pick the right one.
I swat her on the back with an eye roll. “Let”s not get ahead of ourselves now. To my utter dismay, mountain man has managed to stay quite the gentleman.”
Grace sighs, putting her arm around my shoulders, and I lean into her embrace. My mind skips back to Jack”s rough hands and gentle tongue bringing me to the edge over and over but refusing to cross the final line.
“Ladies, darlings!” trills a statuesque man in a flawlessly tailored suit and ascot. “I”m Julius, your style architect extraordinaire today.” He presses exuberant air kisses to both Grace”s and my cheeks.“Follow me to our very own pamper palace where I”ll have you looking irresistible in no time. Then it”s only a matter of how quickly Sir Sexy CEO crumbles at your Chanel-clad feet!”
I meet Grace”s barely contained laughter with a subtle shrug.
“That’s exactly what you need, Mads,” she whispers conspiratorially as she takes my hand and pulls me to follow Julius.
“We don’t have too much time though. We both need to be back in the office before noon,” I warn him, not knowing how long this shopping spree could even take.
Julius rolls his eyes at us regular working folks and swaggers ahead of us, leading us to a spacious room, sparkling gowns hung on a rack. He ushers me behind a curtain, and we start the long process. Grace is comfortably tucked in a leather chair, sipping on a cappuccino that somehow materialized in front of her.
“Too pedestrian.” Julius grimaces as a red gown joins the discard pile. I sigh, rotating my sore shoulders. We have already been through rounds of emerald green (too boring), fuchsia pink (too sweet), and canary yellow (too literal, considering my Little Bird nickname).
“The gala guests simply must be dazzled,” he reminds me. “This debut sets the tone for your entire social season, darling!”
Social season?
Good Lord in Heaven. Are we, like, in eighteen-fifties London or something?
Bewildered, I glance at Grace and wilt onto a plush settee, wondering how other women manage this so cheerily. That”s when Grace lets out a dramatic gasp.
“Maddie . . . look. It”s perfect!” She pulls out an exquisite flowing dress in rich sapphire blue, the color of distant seas and night skies. It has elegant draped lines that manage to be sophisticated and fun at the same time. Modern, yet somehow timeless. In other words: utterly perfect.
“I knew you were going to be indispensable,” I cheer, and carefully step into the gown. Its silky lining embraces me soothingly, like being enveloped in a plush cocoon. I dare a glance in the three-way mirror. An unfamiliar glamour stuns me momentarily. In this dress, I channel equal parts Old Hollywood and Cosmopolitan It Girl.
“Mission accomplished,” Julius pronounces with glimmering eyes. Grace clasps my hands, mirroring my awe.
“Go and change, darling, and we’ll deliver the dress to your address. Then tomorrow, Mia and Rory will stop by around five to put the finishing touches on you.”
“W-what does ‘finishing touches’ entail exactly?” I ask him nervously.
He shrugs, unimpressed. “Hair, nails, waxing, makeup, whatever you need. You’ll see. They are magicians.”
Grace and I exchange glances, already resigned to the commotion they will transform our living room into.
Let’s see how long Jack can hold on to that chastity vow.
* * *
I curlinto Mom”s antique armchair, the embroidered fabric soft and familiar against my skin. Our cozy living room mixes childhood mementos with sleek new furniture—a patchwork of the past and the present.
Last spring, Aunt Viv spent weeks helping us settle in, using her interior design talents to artfully arrange thrifted family treasures alongside Grace’s slick minimalist finds.
When it came time for Viv to return to Paris, she folded all three of us into a hug. Blinking back tears behind oversized Jackie O sunglasses, she made us swear to visit her next summer.
“I’m just a short flight away if my New York girls need Auntie Viv!” she called brightly before disappearing through airport security.
Knowing Mom’s sister is always there for us makes all the difference.
Grace comes in through the front door, balancing three Starbucks cups.
“Alright, ladies, I bear extra bubbly mango refreshers to set the mood!”
“Bless you.” I grin, taking an eager sip of the fizzy drink before my makeover magic begins. Aria bounces over, overflowing with excitement.
“I still can”t believe my big sis landed an actual billionaire boyfriend!” she gushes. “Spill!” she urges, giving my hair a playful yank. “How exactly did you and this billionaire boss man meet?”
I meet Grace”s warning look with a small head shake. We opted not to tell her about my arrangement with Jack. No need to burden her with it. She already has a lot to deal with next to grief, raging pubescent hormones, and a new school.
“We ran into each other last week when I went hiking. If you believe it, he rescued me from a black bear,” I explain. “And so, it started.”
Hopefully, she doesn”t pick up on my nerves. I’m a terrible liar, if there ever was one. I give her a short version of my frightening run in with the bear, of him being a former Navy SEAL, and how he scared the bear away. With every additional piece of information, her eyes are growing larger and larger.
“You’ll meet the mountain man tonight,” I add, giggling like a school girl.
The half-truth tastes bitter, but if it means protecting her, I’m game.
Before Aria gets to probe further, the buzzer rings, announcing my glam squad. As promised, two women carrying big bags of who knows what stand in front of our door.
“Who’s our Cinderella tonight?” the blond one, who introduces herself as Mia, trills. “Go wash your hair while we set up,” she orders. “We don’t have a whole lot of time.”
Soon, I’m tucked into a chair, the faint scent of hair products and polish remover mingling. As Mia works frizz control magic, the other woman, Rory, is polishing my nails. I feel absolutely pampered. Is this what the life of a billionaire’s fiancé is like? Dress shopping and polishing the gem after close of business? I catch Grace”s eyes in the mirror. “So. This gala thing. Any idea what exactly happens there?”
Grace shrugs. “Beats me. Big cocktail party with diamonds and couture, I’d think?”
I chew my lip nervously. A lot seems to ride on handling the spotlight right.
Mia reaches for the curling iron, weighing in. “These fancy corporate fundraiser soirees can be landmines of etiquette. Best look every attendee up and down through those long lashes while saying absolutely nothing. And take small mouthfuls at dinner— you can”t risk a slip-up with all those judgmental eyes.”
“Sounds like so much fun,” I mouth sarcastically.
My anxiety must broadcast all over my face. “Just stay close to your date, darling. Let him guide the schmoozing. You’ll be fine.”
“Is it just me or is being glamorous extremely exhausting?” I huff as Mia teases yet another section of hair around the two-inch barrel iron. My scalp tingles from all the attention.
Aria looks up from her perch where she has been dutifully watching Rory paint my left hand”s nails a soft blush pink. “I think it”s glamorous torture!” She giggles. “But just look at you, Mads! You”re shining brighter than Times Square.”
I peer critically at my reflection where my hair has only just begun coming together. The woman peering back reminds me of those potentially fake celebrity shots.
Grace senses my uncertainty. “You”re stunning, Mads. This is like the princess playdates we had back in the day, remember?”
Aria holds up my iPhone, camera flipped in my direction. “We need a soundtrack up here!” Before I can peek at what she is doing, the opening lyrics of Fergie”s “Glamorous” erupt from my phone.
I burst out laughing as Aria bops over, my cell camera already rolling. “You can NOT resist a classic throwback! Now let”s see those influencer skills, sis.”
As if on reflex, I launch straight into lip sync mode, puffing out my chest with fake swagger. Grace hoots, fanning herself jokingly at my attempt at badass while I mouth the lyrics. Mia and Rory halt their primping and jive along.
Soon, we are all cracking up at my exaggerated hair flips and model poses in the makeshift salon chair, Aria cackling as she films our carefree vibes.
When the song winds down, I”m flushed and grinning ear to ear. “Did we just create TikTok gold?”
“I”d say we”re gonna break the internet!” Aria grins. “Just add your magic editing touch, and you’re good to go.”
All anxiety about tonight’s event takes a backseat. Right here, right now, with my girls cheering me on—it”s the mood I want to bottle forever.
“What better viral video than a glamtastic Cinderella glow up moment?” Mia adds with an affectionate shoulder squeeze before steering me back around for final touch ups. My nails are painted, and Rory begins applying makeup.
“Voilà! You”re officially dazzling, love.” Rory puts the final touches on my makeup with a flourish of powder brushes while Mia spritzes my hair into perfectly undone curls.
I take in the full look in the mirror. A glamorous, mysterious siren stares back through familiar eyes.
“Ladies, I could cry! You actually worked magic.” I turn to pull Mia and Rory into an impulsive group hug. Grace and Aria abandon their perches to join our circle with more laughter and squeals.
Eventually, Mia extracts herself to glance at her diamond-studded watch. “It”s already six-fifteen, honey! Let”s get you dressed.”
A rush descends on the living room as the stylists re-pack their kits and offer me some final words of encouragement. As abruptly as it began, the pampering winds down in a flurry of air kisses and last-minute beauty advice.
“Go get ”em tonight!” Rory winks. Then they”re out the door for their next appointment, and an eerie quiet settles.
In my room, the garment bag with its glittery occupant awaits its unveiling.
I stroke one hand down the silky fabric, anticipation tingling, and begin dressing.