41. Lissa
Lissa
Thankfully, Bethany is available to come to the rescue yet again, and by the time I’ve been at her house for an hour, she’s done my hair and has dressed me in a gorgeous navy-blue dress and sky-high nude pumps.
She’s retouched my makeup and peppered me with questions about where I’m going. It’s the first time in our almost ten-year friendship that I’ve lied to her.
I know what she’ll say if I tell her I’m going out with Oliver. Bethany isn’t stupid, and she can read me like a book.
She has managed to find a little navy blazer for Henry from somewhere. He looks so cute and is positively buzzing with excitement when I tell him we’re going somewhere as a surprise.
Bethany is desperate to know what we’re doing, but she assumes it’s a celebration of Henry’s successful surgery and we’re going out for dinner together. I don’t tell her otherwise.
At seven o’clock, I text Oliver to pick me up about a block from Bethany’s place, and we’re standing out there, out of sight of her window, so she won’t know what I’m up to.
To my surprise, Oliver doesn’t arrive in his sleek black car, but in a sedan with a driver in the front. He opens the door for us and lets Henry climb in first.
The seats face one another in the back with a privacy screen behind the driver, so we’re relatively alone, and Oliver’s eyes run over me appreciatively as I sit beside him.
He’s in a charcoal suit, a collarless shirt beneath it, and no tie. He looks beautiful.
“Where’s Truman?” Henry asks innocently, and Oliver drags his eyes away from me to look at my son.
"He’s at home, Henry. I’m sorry I couldn’t bring him with me, but you’re welcome to come by and see him any time. You can also pick out some new books to bring home.”
My fingers tighten around my bag, looking out of the window.
As if that would actually happen.
“You look stunning,” he says quietly, as Henry babbles excitedly about the interior of the car. He’s always loved cars, and the rare times we’ve taken a cab together, he’s made friends with the driver in seconds.
“Thank you,” I say, crossing my legs. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“I don’t need to, we’re almost there.”
“Really?” I ask, looking around at the busy streets of New York. It’s still cold, and the pedestrians rush past, heads bowed as we glide through the streets, and in another few minutes, we pull up to a small black building with two security guards outside.
“Are you planning to kidnap us?” I ask, only half joking.
Oliver snorts. “It wouldn’t be very subtle if I were. Henry, do you see those two men on the outside of the doors?” Henry nods, looking unsure. “Could you go up to them and tell them Lissa and Henry Davenport and Oliver Heath have arrived, please?”
I stare at Oliver as Henry beams excitedly. We all get out of the car, Oliver saying something quietly to the driver as Henry stands beside me, looking up at the building.
Oliver steps up to us. “Ready?” he says to Henry, and my son nods enthusiastically. Oliver whispers the names again to make sure Henry has remembered them, and then I watch proudly as he walks up to the two huge men without any fear and says his line.
The security guards glance at Oliver with conspiratorial smiles as one of them pulls three lanyards from his pocket.
“Here you are, Henry, Davenport,” one of the guards says, handing Henry a lanyard as he whoops with excitement. “You’re VIPs tonight.”
Oliver offers me his arm, and I have no choice but to take it. My stomach flips as we walk inside. Henry hands me my lanyard solemnly, practically bouncing off the steps with excitement.
As we go through the doors, we’re met with a low black hallway, only about ten feet in length, and the noise from the street is deadened instantly.
We walk forward as I look at Oliver, a sense of trepidation thrumming through me as he reaches out a hand and opens a door ahead of us.
Inside is a large room filled with mirrors that run all the way along the walls.
In the center of the room is a long platform, raised up from the floor, leading back to an opening.
“Is it a catwalk?” I ask him breathlessly.
“You said you liked fashion. I thought I’d get us all tickets to a show.”
“Whose?” I ask, my eyes widening as he gives a low chuckle.
“Judith Linetti,” he says, as casual as can be, as I try not to collapse against him.
“Linetti?” I hiss, attempting to keep my voice down as the other attendees begin to take their seats. There are rows of white chairs on either side of the catwalk, and Oliver walks us to the middle of the very front row, in prime position to see everything perfectly.
My heart is hammering as a member of the staff takes my coat, and we sit down.
Henry is in the middle of us, looking excited but confused.
This is hardly something he’s going to be enthralled by, but I snuggle him up against my side.
He’s still fascinated by the lanyard, asking Oliver about the lights and why there are so many people in the room.
I am beyond thrilled by what’s about to happen. I have admired Judith Linetti’s work for years, ever since she debuted in Milan. She’s up-and-coming, just edging into the celebrity market, and her line of couture suits is incredible.
“After this, we’re going to go and get pizza and ice cream for Henry,” Oliver says decisively. “Henry, this is my present to your mom—what do you think?”
“Mom loves dresses!” Henry says eagerly.
“Well, lots of dresses are going to come out of that door down there,” Oliver says to him. “And after we’re done, your mom gets to pick the one she likes best, and I’m going to buy it for her.”
My head whips round to stare at him as my mouth opens and closes uselessly. I don’t have time to protest as the music begins and the show starts.
I can barely pay attention to the dresses at first, unable to wrap my head around what Oliver just said.
The idea of owning a dress straight off the runway is such a foreign concept that my mind can’t compute it.
Oliver just sits quietly beside my son, making it impossible for me to argue because Henry is so excited for me.
The designs are breathtaking, with pleats and lace and flowing, stunning tulle cascading from every piece.
I don’t realize I’m staring at one particular dress until it’s too late. It’s a sculpted sheath, with a deep Portrait neckline dropped from the shoulder. A diamond decolletage at the top becomes a collar all across the top of the dress, sparkling in the light as I stare at it in wonder.
I don’t notice Oliver speaking to one of the VIP directors until I turn back to him and watch, horrified, as he points to the dress, gives the attendant the number as it flashes by, and orders it.
I keep my eyes on the models, as they strut past one by one, each design more wonderful than the last.
The luxury on display is mind-boggling, and I can’t even think about how much the dresses must cost.
I totally immerse myself in the show, taking a few discreet pictures to show Bethany at some point in the future.
Maybe when everything with Oliver has blown over, I can tell her about this night.
As the show comes to an end, I stand, catching Oliver’s eye as I grab Henry’s hand.
“You aren’t buying me that dress,” I whisper to Oliver.
“Think of it as my apology.”
“You’re apologizing for giving me money by buying me a dress?”
“I’m giving you a genuine gift because the other wasn’t to your liking.”
I roll my eyes at him, but in truth, I’m still so overwhelmed by how incredible this was that I can’t stay angry with him.
I had never imagined in my wildest dreams I’d be a VIP at an event like this. I feel like a celebrity as we step out onto the sidewalk, and I can’t help grinning when Oliver looks down at me, his eyes shining in the light of the street lamp.
“My mom loved that,” Henry says to Oliver and then gives a little yawn.
Oliver frowns at him. “Do you need to go home? I don’t want you to be tired tomorrow.”
“You said pizza… and ice cream!” Henry protests, looking crestfallen as Oliver laughs, nodding.
“Alright, but then you and your mom need to go home and go to bed, alright?”
The disappointment I feel at those words nags at me as we all head down the street to a pizzeria right next to a high-end gelato shop that I’ve always wanted to try. I hoped Oliver might invite us back to his place again, but maybe I’ve ruined that.
We devour slices of pizza the size of our faces. Henry goes for classic pepperoni, I choose mushrooms and peppers, and Oliver orders what can only be described as a meat mountain—every protein the pizzeria offers stacked onto one glorious slice.
Then, at Henry’s urgent reminder, it’s time to move on to gelato.
I follow Oliver to our table, as Henry eyes the array of desserts on display. There is every type of gelato imaginable in metal troughs on the counter, but I get a little fizz of happiness as Henry looks at me with a grin. There’s only ever one choice for us.
Once we’re seated, Oliver orders dark chocolate for himself and raises his eyebrows at me.
“Stracciatella for Henry and me, please,” I say, “I think it’s best we share one or he’ll be high on sugar for the rest of the night.”
Oliver nods, giving our order to the waitress, and when the gelato arrives, Henry scoops it up happily.
“Did you have a good time?” Oliver asks, and I glance up at him.
“I think you know I did.”
“There are quite a few of those events in New York.”
He falls silent, smoothing his ice cream over with his spoon, but he doesn’t speak again as if he were going to invite me to another and thought better of it.
“Thank you,” I say sincerely. “It was magical.”
He gives a half smile, glancing at Henry before he places his spoon down, his expression changing from light-hearted to serious in seconds.
My heart lurches, wondering if this is the moment when he tells me everything needs to end between us.
“James is coming to the office on Friday.”
My eyes widen in shock as Oliver leans forward, spearing me with that intense stare I can’t look away from. Fumbling in my bag, I pull out Henry’s headphones.
“You want to listen to some music, baby?” I ask him, and Henry brightens, taking them from me and placing them over his head. I pull up Spotify and put on a playlist Henry likes, ensuring that he can’t hear any more of this conversation.
Oliver’s eyes haven’t left my face, and I’m breathless as I gaze into them. They’re the most gorgeous brown I’ve ever seen.
“I can get this dealt with for you, Lissa.” He says confidently.
“It will finally be over. I promise. And if we act quickly, we’ll be able to beat him.
He was given a forty-eight-hour window to sign off on his financial declaration.
Once that’s done, we’ll be able to prove he’s lied about his assets. ”
“Lied about them?” I ask, confused. “But won’t he just try to get around it? James has so much money in so many places… he’ll argue that he forgot, or something.”
“He may try,” Oliver says calmly, “but there are other things that are linked to it that I think he’s lying about, too.
I’ve done some digging, and it’s imperative we act quickly.
I know you don’t want to be dealing with this, along with everything else, but I told you I would help, and I will.
I can win this for you if you trust me.”
There’s no hesitation in my mind as I nod. “I do trust you. Are you sure you can take it on, though? You have the Reynolds case, too, not to mention all the others you’re involved with.”
“I’ve got this. You won’t have to see James, either. I’ll make sure you’re kept entirely separate. We don’t need you in the room, and it’s probably best that you’re not there.”
I swallow the cold spoonful of ice cream, the pieces of chocolate sweet on my tongue as I lower my spoon beside me, my appetite gone.
“And if you’re wrong?” I whisper. “You’re a brilliant lawyer, Oliver, and I’m so grateful to you for your help,” his eyes soften, “but what if this goes badly, and he manages to take Hen from me?”
“I’m not wrong,” he says, with a confidence that steals my breath. “Trust me, Lissa. This will all be over very soon.”
The idea of James being out of my life for good is an amazing feeling. But I’m not sure what that sentence meant. Does Oliver mean that James will be gone, or that he and I will part ways completely? Suddenly, the generosity of the money, the fashion show, and the dress make far more sense.
Oliver is saying goodbye in his own way. Making sure I’m taken care of after he finishes things between us for good.
The thought of that makes the elation of the evening slowly fade away to nothing as I force a smile, going back to my dessert.