Chapter 40
CECILIA
“Idon’t think I can do this.” Wringing my hands, I look at myself in the mirror.
“You’ll be fine. It’s one date. You can do it,” Adriana says, coming up behind me. Her fingers comb through my hair, pulling it away from my face. “What do you think? Up or down?”
Biting on my lower lip, I shrug. “Does it matter? I think I’m going to cancel.”
She sighs. “No, you’re not.” Then, “I’m braiding it. You always use your hair to hide. It’ll be nice to get it out of your face.”
“Do not.”
She chuckles. “Yes. You do. And I’m picking out your outfit. None of this baggy shit. If you can wear a swimsuit, you’ll survive wearing a dress.”
Worry gnaws through me. Agreeing to a date might have been a mistake.
Adriana rummages through my closet in search of the perfect dress.
Her fingers glide over the hangers, scanning the array of clothing I’ve collected over the years.
Each piece carries a memory—a reminder of the girl I used to be.
A summer dress I wore once to a spring fling.
A red number that used to be my go to anytime Kim, Joelle, and I did a girls night out.
My mouth goes dry when Adriana pulls out a simple black dress, and I swallow hard. The fabric is delicate, clinging to its hanger. My heart races, and I curse. Of course she’d pick that one.
It’s a short-sleeved, scoop-neck bodycon dress. And it is skin-freaking-tight.
It’s been well over a year since I’ve worn it. Will it even fit? I mean, it should. If anything, I’ve lost weight since this summer. Not gained any. But what if it looks awful on me now?
Adriana turns around, holding up the black dress for me to see. Her eyes sparkle with encouragement. “What do you think about this one? Maybe with a cute heel or a knee-high black boot?”
I hesitate for a moment, then take a deep breath. “I like it. But no heels. I’m wearing sneakers.” You know, in case I need to make a quick getaway or something.
Better safe than sorry.
Adriana rolls her eyes but smiles. “Fine. It’ll still be cute.
” She rummages through my shoe collection and pulls out a pair of black-and-white checkered Vans.
“These will add a touch of your personality while keeping it casual. Trust me, you’re going to look amazing,” she holds the items toward me.
The soft jersey fabric clings to my body as Adriana zips me up. Her low whistle as I pivot has a genuine laugh bubbling out of me until tears sting my eyes. Something I haven’t heard from myself in ages.
When did laughing come so easily again?
Adriana works on my hair, her fingers deftly braiding it into two French braids that frame my face.
As I catch my reflection in the mirror, I’m taken aback by the transformation.
It’s me, but it’s a version of me I haven’t seen in a long time.
The illusion is almost perfect. This Cecilia looks lighter.
Unbroken. Ready to take on the world in her sexy black dress and killer confidence.
If I straighten my spine and smile with enough wattage to light up the city, maybe I’ll finally become her again instead of just pretending.
I slip on a few chunky bracelets from my vanity to hide the scars on my wrist and play with the charms on them while Adriana finishes with final touches to my hair, using a small amount of product to comb down and style my baby hairs.
Taking a step back, she admires her handiwork. “There. All done. You look incredible.”
Tears threaten to well up in my eyes. I’m not sad, but maybe a little overwhelmed. “Thanks.”
She hugs me tightly from behind, her words warm and reassuring. “You deserve to feel beautiful, Cecilia. And don’t forget, going on this date doesn’t have to mean anything. There’s no pressure.”
I study my reflection again and immediately wonder what Gabriel would think of the outfit. Guilt settles low in my gut. “This still feels wrong,” I mutter, voicing my concerns. “It feels like I’m cheating or—”
“But you’re not,” she assures me. “You don’t owe Gabriel anything. You’ve been through enough, and it’s time to put yourself first. He would understand.”
Something tells me he really wouldn’t.
I take a deep breath, the weight of my past relationship gradually easing off my shoulders. Adriana is right. This date isn’t about Gabriel. It’s about me rediscovering my self-worth and having the courage to put myself out there. I can do this. It’s just one date.
At six fifty-five, the doorbell chimes a staccato beat that matches my fluttering pulse.
“I got it!” I call out, rushing down the staircase. Adriana left maybe ten minutes earlier. She offered to stick around until Wyatt showed up, but I’d rather not have the audience. My parents are bad enough.
“Cecilia, do you—”
“Mom, go.” I make a shooing motion toward my mother when she steps into the entryway. “I told you, I got it.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, and a small gasp slips free from her lips. “Oh my,” she exclaims. “You’re beautiful.” Her eyes gloss over, and I try to ignore the fact that I’m pretty sure my mom is two seconds away from crying.
“Thanks, Mom.” The doorbell rings again. “I have to go.”
“Is Gabe—”
“No,” I nudge her back toward the doorway that leads into our living room. “Another friend. I’ll see you later.”
Before she can say anything else, I open the door and step out onto the porch, closing it swiftly behind me. Pressing my body against the door, I meet Wyatt’s kind smile with one of my own. “Hi.”
Wyatt’s wind-tousled brown hair hangs over warm eyes that trace my body in shy approval. “Wow. You look … just … wow, Cecilia.”
My nerves settle at his gentle tone and the way his hands stay clasped behind his back, not reaching to touch without permission.
He clears his throat, color staining his sharp cheekbones before his gaze flicks to my left.
I turn to see my mother, who is very obviously spying on us through the curtains.
He waves at her.
She waves back.
Covering my face, I try, and fail, to stifle my groan.
“Please ignore her.”
His grin widens. “Why? She seems nice.”
Shaking my head, I hop down the steps from my porch, hoping Wyatt will follow. “If you look in her direction for too long, she’s going to take it as an invitation to come outside and the next thing you know, you’ll be having dinner with my parents instead of the two of us going out.”
Wyatt chuckles, falling into step beside me. “Good to know. Though for the record, dinner with you and your parents sounds like a pretty good time.”
I look up at him, expecting to find a mocking smile or some other indication that he’s kidding, but instead, I find a genuine grin. He really wouldn’t mind having dinner with my parents. Huh, that’s interesting. Most guys see parents and want to bolt.
I hesitate by his car—an all-black Ford truck—and try to quell my sudden uneasiness.
“Do you, uh, want to drive separately? I can follow you to The Wolf Den in my Jeep.” I didn’t really think the whole, picking me up for our date thing through, and I won’t lie, being in an enclosed space with him sounds mildly terrifying right now.
“You know, that way you don’t have to bring me all the way home afterwards. ” Win, win. Right? Please say yes.
Wyatt gives me a perplexed look as he unlocks and opens the passenger side door.
“That’s okay,” he says, stepping to the side.
“We can use the ride over to talk and get to know each other. Besides—” Worrying my bottom lip, I reluctantly climb in.
“Pretty sure I’d lose points with your mom if I wasn’t an absolute gentleman.
” He throws a thumb over his shoulder, so I look.
Oh, my god. She’s still watching us.
With a groan, I cover my face. “You win.”
He chuckles and closes my door before jogging around to the other side.
I fiddle with the heater while he gets himself settled, and then we’re on our way.
When he’s not looking, I plug The Wolf Den into my maps app on my phone and discreetly track our progress.
I’m not worried we’ll get lost or anything.
But it feels prudent to make sure we don’t take any unplanned detours. You know, safety first.
When we arrive, Wyatt is quick to hop out, rushing to my side to open my door before I even have the chance to unbuckle my seatbelt.
“Thank you,” I tell him.
His smile is wide, and he reaches a hand out to help me out of the truck. Placing my hand in his, I ignore the boulder that rolls in my stomach and accept his help jumping down from the vehicle.
“Gentleman, remember?” he says with a wink.
Tugging on my hand, Wyatt leads me inside.
His touch is unnerving, though not entirely unwelcome.
He doesn’t make my skin crawl or anything like that, but my hand quickly grows sweaty in his hold.
I focus on the surrounding people, taking in the boisterous music and rowdy crowd.
My heart races, and I flex my fingers, wishing he’d let go of me.
Yeah, so maybe it is a little unwelcome.
Damn.
A hostess directs us to a table, and we take our seats. Wyatt finally releases me to slide into the booth seat across from me, and I exhale a breath of relief. Rubbing my hands on my thighs, I reach for my menu and skim over the options.
“Do you come here a lot?” Not my best opening line, but I’ve never claimed to be good at small talk.
“Yeah. Once a week or better,” he says. “Most Friday nights after a game.”
“A game?” I didn’t realize he played a sport. Or maybe he just means after watching one?
“Yeah. I’m on the football team, and the guys and I like to grab a drink and some food afterward. Have you been to any of our games?”
“Not this year, but,” I shrug, “I used to go watch a lot of the games last season.” When I was in cheer, it was sort of a requirement.
“The season’s almost over,” he tells me. “You’ll have to come to a game before it ends. We’re crushing it this year.”
I make a noncommittal sound. “Maybe.”