cuts himself off. “You don’t want to hear about that.”
“Oh, I do,” I object, leaning in. I really do. Both because I’m nosey and because I care.
“I struggled with communication,” he admits. “With assuming Marissa knew what I was thinking. With being the partner she needed me to be. We were never quite on the same page. In retrospect, we got married too young and neither of us were well suited for the other. We did a poor job of merging our lives together.”
Ugh. The age thing. “I’m a very old twenty-seven,” I blurt out, and he laughs, the skin around his eyes crinkling as his eyes flash in amusement.
It’s a gut-punch because just one look at him looking at me like that and I know the truth.
I’m not falling for him.
I’ve fallen.
And it’s not the faux-love I thought it was before. Not the hero-worship.
This is love-love, and it’s going to tear me apart to let him go.
So I won’t think about it.
I’ll stay in this fantasy land a little while longer.
I’ll wear my pretty dress and let it be my armor.
And when it all goes to hell, at least I’ll have some new memories to keep me company.
Chapter Thirty
I never should’ve let myself fall for Warren.
Because now it’s so obvious that I’m disgustingly smitten. I half-expect birds to flit though the window and join me while I twirl about, daydreaming about being hopelessly, totally in love. Instead of mice, a pair of chipmunks will appear and pour tea or something equally Disney-esque while Duke and Gary scamper in and do something crazy, like behave.
It’s embarrassing but also exhilarating.
The day after our romantic date and night of confessions, Warren has an event in New York City. Some kind of fundraiser. I swear, I’m listening when he explains it. Or I’m listening as much as I can when he’s talking in that low rumble of a voice while sliding a tie around his neck, expertly flipping it into a perfect knot.
I pay attention to the important things, okay?
We take a helicopter to the event, which is very posh and also very loud. I’ve never seen New York like this before, looking down on all of the buildings that seem so tall from down below. And they’re definitely tall, but there’s something about seeing them from above. It puts the grandeur of the city in perspective. From this vantage point, everyone is the same. Tiny and insignificant, hustling to and fro.
I’ve always thought of New York as big. Impossibly big, especially for a girl like me with my little shop that doesn’t even have working plumbing. But one day, could I be one of those dots again? If I sell enough? If I make a big enough name for myself?
Could I ever go back?
I’m getting caught up in the dream when Warren takes my hand. And if I’m going full fantasy now, I might as well say, yes, I can have that dream. I can have designs bought and sold around the world. And I can have Warren.
By the time we get to the event, I’m lost in my own little fantasy world. One filled with nothing but puppies and rainbows and happily-ever-afters. And Warren. He’s front and center in every delusional vision.
But we’ve got an event to attend. And I have to rein in the crazy because Mrs Bianchi and Warren’s brother James are walking our way. I can’t help but notice she’s in one of my dresses, a swishy dark blue dress that she’s accessorized with a thin gold necklace. She looks gorgeous, and more than a few people turn her way. I smile to myself, feeling really proud.
“I told you it wouldn’t last,” Mrs Bianchi’s saying as she and James reach us, shaking her head sadly. “If you insist on dating actresses and models—”
“Hey, you two,” James says, neatly cutting his mom off before she can continue to interfere in his choice of girlfriends. “How’s it going?”
“Great,” Warren says, and they embrace in one of those bro hugs, clapping each other on the back with gusto. “You’re here alone tonight?”
“I know a nice girl—” Mrs Bianchi is quick to interject, but James says, “No,” before she can even get the entire sentence out.
“I’m just worried about you,” Mrs Bianchi tells him. “If you would let me set you up, you’d see. After all, my interfering is working out just fine for your brother.”
She looks at me, beaming. It’s easy to smile back at her. In my happily-ever-after fantasy, she