“The dress is its own accent piece. Add earrings or a bracelet, but not both.” Josie handed her a fitted black overcoat. “And beautiful shoes.”
“Definitely.” Brooke nodded. “We’ll find those next.”
“I have shoes,” Nichole argued. The dress was bold. Confident. Everything Nichole was determined to be. The price tag under her arm scratched against her skin, making her squirm.
“Not shoes that say, ‘I’m tall and you are just going to have to deal with it.’” Brooke set her hands on her hips and eyed Nichole.
No. She didn’t have those kinds of shoes.
“You can wear flats or heels,” Josie assured her. “But Brooke is right. People are already checking your feet to see if you have heels on or if you are just that tall. If people are looking at your feet, make your shoes memorable.”
“I never considered that.” Nichole glanced at her bare feet. The ones usually contained in running shoes or boots.
“That’s why we’re here.” Brooke clasped her hands together. “What’s it going to be?”
Nichole inhaled, deep and filling like their yoga instructor taught them, and settled into her decision. “Both outfits. I want options.”
Brooke and Josie high-fived.
Josie smiled. “Time to shoe shop.”
At the third shoe store, Nichole had a pair of stunning flats and a pair of elegant heels in cloth shopping bags. Brooke and Josie declared no shopping spree a true success without a celebratory dinner. Tucked into a booth at Rustic Grille, the debate continued over who could be Nichole’s personal negotiator.
Brooke gave her order to the waiter and handed him their menus. Her fingers drummed on the table. “If only Dan wasn’t heading back up north with his dad later tonight, he would’ve gone with you.”
“Theo doesn’t get back from the east coast until Friday,” Josie explained. “And I have dress fittings for my working clients scheduled well into the evening tomorrow night.”
“And I’m on babysitting duty. Wesley is spending the night with Ben and me.” Brooke’s frown intensified. “There has to be someone.”
“Not that you need anyone,” Josie rushed on.
Nichole nodded. Even she admitted she liked the idea of a personal negotiator. At the very least, someone on her side in case she misplaced her backbone.
“Let’s run back through Mia’s guest list from her Christmas party,” Brooke suggested. “You don’t want a stranger.”
“You need to take someone you can trust.” Josie swirled her straw in her soda.
Trust. That was a loaded word. Nichole had trusted few people in her past, and even then, each had proven to be a mistake. It hadn’t helped that she’d loved those same people and they’d broken her heart too. Had she ever really trusted anyone? One person, but that was in high school. People changed.
The personal negotiator name-dropping paused only to allow them to sample one another’s dinner choices.
The table cleared and desserts ordered, Josie stared at her phone and cringed. “My model just canceled for Tuesday morning’s photo shoot. The pictures were supposed to be for my new website.”
“Can you get someone else?” Brooke asked.
“It’s too late. These gowns were designed specifically for a tall bride.” Josie squeezed her forehead and paled. “I wanted to showcase that I have gowns for every height and every size, even petite. And I’m scheduled for a dozen bridal expos starting this month.”
The waitress set down two brownie skillets with homemade vanilla ice cream. Brooke intercepted Nichole’s salted caramel cheesecake. “How tall does your model need to be?”
“At least six feet.” Josie smashed her ice cream onto her brownie.
“Nichole, aren’t you six feet tall?” Brooke grinned at her.
Nichole shook her head and reached for her cheesecake. “I’m six feet, one inch.”
“That’s perfect. You’re perfect.” Josie latched on to Nichole’s arm. “Would you be my model?”
Brooke held Nichole’s cheesecake hostage and nodded her head.
“You seriously cannot want me to model for you.” Nichole gaped at Josie.
Josie blinked. “Why not? You’re beautiful.”
She appreciated her friend’s confidence boost. “I don’t know the first thing about modeling.”
“Mia is taking the photographs.” Josie’s smile lifted into her eyes. “She’s an expert at poses and all that. She can show you.”
“It’s a few hours Tuesday morning to be a pretend bride in Josie’s stunning gowns.” Brooke sighed.
“The photoshoot is meant to showcase the gowns, not you,” Josie promised.
Nichole had mentioned she needed to add more fun to her routine. And Josie’s gowns were spectacular. Who didn’t want to be a pretend bride for a few hours? “Yes. I’ll do it.”
Josie wrapped her arms around Nichole and hugged her. Brooke handed over the cheesecake.
Dessert plates scraped clean and the bill paid, the women left the restaurant. Their search for Nichole’s perfect personal negotiator remained unfinished, but not yet forfeited. Brooke and Josie promised to come up with more names. Nichole promised to practice her best model poses.
The trio went their separate ways.
Her new clothes hung safely in her closet, Wesley tucked in for the night, Nichole climbed into bed and propped her laptop on a pillow. She studied the profiles of the investors for her meeting. Alerts from her social media page pinged in the corner of her screen. Nichole clicked over to her page. Both Josie and Brooke posted updates about their shopping adventure and tagged Nichole.
More updates from friends scrolled across her page. A familiar name caught her attention.
The one guy she’d trusted in high school.
Brooke and Nichole wanted her personal negotiator to be someone she trusted.
Did she dare ask him?
Nichole tapped her fingers on the keyboard. He was the only person who had never been a pushover, and he owed her. She was well over a decade in calling in the favor. But was there a time limit on favors owed?
She had helped him pass high school, then his college courses long enough to enter the football draft. He’d told her he owed her whatever she wanted. Whatever she needed. She had only to ask.
Nichole’s fingers moved across the keyboard and typed. It was one private message. Nothing lost if he never
