Chapter 18 - Lucy
The apartment is peaceful in the careful, hopeful way it only ever is when Mom is having a good morning. Not a perfect one. Not a miracle. Just… better.
Like the very room was holding its breath, relieved and anticipating what we know always comes.
She’s asleep in her bed, bundled under her favourite quilt with the curtains drawn against the late-fall light.
Her breathing is steady. Even. This kind of morning makes me think, maybe today won’t fall apart.
That’s the only reason I let myself sit at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee and my laptop open, pretending I’m just another woman with a Saturday morning and nowhere urgent to be.
No doctor calls, pharmacy alerts, or crises.
I check my phone and still nothing from Julian.
I tell myself I don’t care.
I check it again anyway, but I only see the last message he sent. "Good."
Em’s door is closed down the hall. After the week we had, I don’t blame her for sleeping in.
I’m halfway through an email to a florist when there’s a knock at the door.
Panic creeps in. Who would be here this early on a Saturday morning?
I stand, moving quietly so I don’t wake Mom, and open the door.
Two men in dark jackets stand in the hallway with a rolling cart stacked with large, immaculate, white, glossy boxes. Each one is tied in thick red velvet ribbon and labelled with my name in elegant black script.
“Lucy Bennett?” one of them asks.
“Yes,” I say with a croak catching at the back of my throat.
“We have a delivery that requires a signature.”
I stare at the boxes.
“How many?” I ask faintly.
He stares at me with a faint smile. “All of them.”
I step aside, heart starting to pound, head feeling a little light, and they wheel the cart in. As the first box is handed to me, I have to sign for it. And the next. And the next.
Every signature feels like a i'm being tied to something, but to what I am not sure.
Every box feels like too much.
From down the hall, a door creaks open.
Em appears, her wavy brown hair a disaster, sweatshirt twisted crooked on her body, looking like a raccoon that fought a wine bottle and lost.
“What in the hell... Did no one get the memo that it's Saturday...” she starts, then stops.
Her eyes go wide.
“Oh my God.”
I swallow. “Don’t.”
“Oh my God,” she repeats, louder. “Lucy, is that… are those...”
"That'll be all, Ms." One of the men said as they exited the apartment.
And then I am left with a grinning, wide-eyed maniac of a baby sister, who has so much hope in her eyes it makes my stomach roll.
“Don’t,” I say again, but she’s already moving, grabbing boxes from the stack and hauling them toward my bedroom like Christmas came early, and she’s eight years old.
“This is a Cinderella moment,” she gasps.
I follow, heart racing. “It’s not.”
She grins over her shoulder. “Ohhh... more like Pretty Woman.”
I snort despite myself. “That’s not better, Em.”
In my room, the boxes stack up at the foot of the bed like something out of a dream I didn’t give myself permission to have.
I kneel beside one and gently lift the lid.
I don’t need to unfold anything to know what’s inside.
The fabric alone tells me.
The silk is heavy and luxurious. The kind that holds its shape, as if it knows it belongs to someone important.
I close the lid again, as if it might burn me.
“What is it?” Em demands.
“Shit,” I mutter.
She laughs. “That is not the face Julia Roberts made, Lu. Give me that smile!”
I press my palms to my face.
I am feeling overwhelmed because I think I know what this is. But I don't really.
What is going on in my life right now?
But then another thought interrupts my spiral.
When was the last time someone asked me out?
Not for work.
Not for obligation.
Not because they needed something.
Just because they wanted to see me.
I hear Mom stir in her room. I feel so attuned to her sounds that they seem somehow attached to my nervous system. Like my fight-or-flight responses have somehow been replaced by the sounds of my mother's movements, which tell me whether today will be a good day.
I am lost in thought when I hear Emily gasp, and then she waves a white card in my face. "Oh, Lu..."
The beautiful handwritten note comes into focus in front of me.
When was the last time you went dancing?
Nothing else is written on it, no signature, no time or place. Just a question that feels far heavier than it has any right to be.
“What’s going on?” Mom asks from my doorway.
Em beams. “Lucy’s mysterious billionaire suitor just sent half of Paris to our apartment.”
Mom looks at me, really looks. Not at the boxes, at my face.
“At least sit down before you go in full panic mode,” she says gently.
I move to the edge of the bed.
“Who is he?” she asks.
I hesitate. “His name is Julian North.”
I mean, I assume it's him. Who else would be doing this?
“That’s not what I meant.”
I swallow. “I don’t know.”
She studies me, with tired eyes that still manage to be kind. “Maybe you don't need to right now.”
“It's too much,” I murmur.
Her expression shifts. Something like understanding flickers there.
“Maybe,” she says, “Or maybe he saw what is painfully evident, and for that I am sorry, my sweet girl."
My eyes snap to hers as I croak, "No mom..."
She gives me a loving smile, "You should let him bring you out, even if it's just for one night. Enjoy yourself. Emily and I will be fine here for an evening.”
Em nods eagerly. “Please. Let me live vicariously.”
I let out a shaky breath and nod, feeling a tear slip down my cheek.
Em pops up from where she was rummaging through the boxes, "Food first. And Coffee. Then we get Cinder Roberts ready for her ball."
I walk to my mom and pull her gently into a hug. I let myself get lost in her scent, in the comfort that is naturally her, and then I follow my sister into the kitchen for brunch and a million questions I have no way of answering.
A text comes through an hour later.
Julian: My driver will pick you up at 6:30. I hope you let yourself enjoy the gifts and wear them all tonight.
I swallow hard, and I hear Emily squealing over my shoulder. And then, in what I am assuming is her Julian voice, "Wear all the jewels I have besotted you, my Queen...."
Did that even make any sense?
I follow my sister into my room. My mom trailing quietly behind us. I help her get settled on my bed so she can watch me get ready.
When I finally open the boxes, it feels like unwrapping a different version of myself.
The dress is blue. It's not bright or pale.
The fabric is a deep, rich midnight blue, with long sleeves.
A high neckline in front that falls away into an open back, so dramatic it steals my breath.
The skirt is slim through the hips, then tapers into an elegant flare behind me. Not a train. A whisper of one.
The shoes are nude, impossibly sleek, heels high enough to make me taller, sharper, someone who belongs in Julian North’s world.
The jewelry is understated but devastating, earrings that catch the light like stars, a bracelet designed to slide over the single sleeve, leaving the dress to do the work and my back absolutely bare.
Em turns my room into a war zone of makeup palettes and curling irons. She hums while she works, focused, careful. My mom sits on the edge of the bed, offering quiet commentary and the occasional smile.
When the dress is finally on, Em steps back.
“Oh,” she breathes. “Lu.”
I barely recognize myself.
The blue brings out the warmth in my skin, the gold flecks in my eyes. The cut is simple but stunning. Not designed to impress, designed to be remembered.
I catch my mom watching me in the mirror.
She looks proud and sad. But it's the hope that I see there that scares me more than anything Julian has done.
Em is vibrating. “Oh my God. Lucy. You’re going to destroy him.”
When I finally pull my eyes away from my mom and take a moment to truly look at myself in the mirror, my breath leaves me.
The freckles on my skin are still there. I’m still me.
Just… elevated.
Soft curls fall around my face, pinned back just enough to tease the open back. My makeup is light, my lips a warm rose. I look like someone who might be wanted.
The door buzzer sounds at exactly 6:30.
Em hugs me tight. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” she whispers. “Just… feel, enjoy, laugh... dance.”
Mom kisses my cheek. “Be careful but have fun.”
I step into the hallway and gather my things.
The elevator ride feels longer than it should.
The driver opens the door for me, expression neutral. The car is warm. Quiet. Waiting.
On the seat beside me is a single red rose. No note, no explanation as to why Julian himself isn't here, or where I am going.
My heart races.
I close my eyes as the car pulls away from the curb.
I don’t know what tonight will ask of me.
But for the first time in a long time, I’m not bracing for impact.
I’m… curious.