Chapter 16
The dress arrived just in time. Danika stood in the center of her sprawling closet to admire the garment. She’d ordered it
months ago without an occasion in mind, knowing one would arise. Now, it had.
The piece was silky and stunning—a made-to-order Siriano gown described as golden green, like the color of a Fabergé kiwi.
It absorbed light at all angles: its rouching up on one hip, its twist at the halter, its delicate plunging back. Danika had
sent in her measurements, and it fit her perfectly. All night, she’d be fielding compliments. Admiration. The thought sent
a tingle down her spine. She needed this. She touched the dress once more, the fabric falling through her fingers like cool
water.
The event didn’t start for another two hours, and her hair and makeup girl wouldn’t arrive for another half hour, but it was
time for a cocktail. She flicked off the closet lights and headed downstairs.
“So, should we pop this?” Danika said as she moved into the white marbled kitchen.
Chat sat at the counter, elbows up, eating a sandwich.
She moved to the fridge and pulled out the massive bottle of champagne that had arrived with the invitation to the Harrisons’ restaurant opening.
She held the bottle by the neck and placed it on the counter.
“That some capital-C?” Chat eyed the bottle.
“Exactly,” Danika said, proud he remembered what she’d taught him about sparkling wine: how only bottles from the Champagne
region of France were real champagne.
The pitter-patter of rain grew above them, and Danika looked up at the skylights, hoping it would stop. She didn’t want any
spots on her dress.
“Might as well pop it.” Bill walked into the room, holding a glass of bourbon.
“Well if you’re drinking that, then I won’t,” Danika said. “This won’t keep.”
“Oh, rope Chat in for a glass. I believe in the three of us.”
Danika studied Bill, noticing his fresh shave and good mood. He had even picked his suit for the night already; it seemed
they were both eager for the event, which had come as a surprise. Mallory and Malcolm had delayed the opening of Alondra several
times, citing issues with the chef and zoning and the deck revamp, and the invitation had caught everyone off guard. “Nothing
like the element of surprise,” Bill had joked. The invitation had also included a comped room at the hotel for VIPs, to which
Bill replied, “Why not? This is why we have Chat.”
“Okay, so can we ‘rope you in,’ Chat?” She reached for three glasses, glad the boys were already in bed.
“At your service. Seems like this is going to be a real party.” Chat reached for the invitation on the counter. He flipped
over the heavy card stock. “What time are you leaving?”
Danika told him eight as she used both hands to pour the bottle.
“We’ll have to go back with you, Chat.” Bill leaned against the counter. “The food is supposed to be amazing. The rib eye
especially.”
“Sounds good to me. And thank you,” he said as Danika handed him a glass. “I hope you have a good time. It’s a good way to end the week, right?”
Danika smiled at him, intimacy passing between them. Since their conversation after the Galleria, their dynamic had shifted
for the better. Their connection was deeper. Now, she knew they were true partners and confidants.
While Danika was a little embarrassed about the whole hug-kiss moment, she didn’t regret where it had brought them. She was also glad to know
they would never cross that line. While it had truly never been her intention, it made her trust Chat all the more. Plus,
she’d still gotten what she’d really wanted: confirmation she was beautiful—even to him.
In a strange way, she no longer felt weird flaunting herself in front of him. She knew nothing would come of it—nothing except
the thrill of attention, a heightened sense of being alive. Even now, as she moved about the kitchen, she let her sweater
fall open, revealing her black tank top and braless chest.
“Okay, I’ve gotta go shower, but I’ll check on Max after.” Chat rounded the counter toward Danika and put his plate in the
dishwasher. “You gave him that Tylenol at five thirty, right?” Max had been fighting a summer cold.
“Oh, yup. Five thirty.” Danika was disappointed to see him go.
Danika couldn’t help but wonder if he was leaving to talk to her—Augie. She wanted that girl as far away as possible. In the
week since seeing their messages, she’d kept Chat extra busy. She’d asked him to run additional errands, swing by the post
office, grab last-minute items at Lunds she’d glared at Danika as if everything wrong in the world was Danika’s fault.
And god, the baby shower. That day was the real anniversary of her dad’s death and her divorce, and while Danika had been a little out of control, she hadn’t done anything bad.
The “tip” hadn’t even been her idea—it was Mrs. Adams who brought it up.
But Augie had humiliated her, throwing that money at her feet.
Yes, Augie—with her alien blue eyes, her basic U of M degree, her five little months in New York (Danika had found her LinkedIn)—was bad news.
“I’m going to steam a few shirts, then I’ll need your opinion,” Bill said, dragging Danika back to the present. He picked
up his glass.
“The stripes.” She’d already noticed the shirts he’d pulled earlier.
Bill smiled at her, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he stared right at her. They hadn’t had a real conversation
in weeks. He had seemed happier in the past few days, though, which Danika took as a good sign.
She was about to take advantage of the moment and ask how he was, or tell him details about the model home—anything to bring
them closer—but as she opened her mouth, Bill’s phone rang. He picked it up off the counter and studied the number.
“I gotta take this.” He tapped the counter. “But, Danika.” He studied her as if he too wanted to break the surface. “There’s
something I need to tell you. Let’s talk in the car, okay?”
Danika felt a flash of adrenaline. Yet she kept her face calm as she told him, “Of course.”
Finally, she thought.