The more my fingers explored, the more I discovered just how lush and rich the fabric was, how heavy the crystals were against the thin overlay, how high the slit was up the left side, how exposed my back would be, how the V would dip so deep it would reveal the string of freckles above my navel, the ones that lined my chest between my breasts.
“It’s… stunning, Theo,” I whispered, still shaking my head and touching each inch of the dress. “But I have nothing to wear this to.”
“Wear it for me,” he said. “Tonight.”
If a piece of clothing could shape shift into something magical, that dress would have been a Cloak of Possibility.
When I slipped into its dazzling clasp later that evening, pulling my hair off my neck and to the side before I dared a look in the mirror, I wasn’t prepared for what the evening would hold. I wasn’t prepared for the way my breath would catch when I saw my reflection, when I let my eyes trail the length of a woman who couldn’t have possibly been me but who was also the most me I’d ever felt in my life.
The gold and cream fabric draped elegantly over my bust, hugging my waist just slightly before the skirt flowed like a waterfall down the length of my legs. I turned slightly and the skirt followed with a soft whoosh, and once again I found myself silenced in awe as I took in the view of the straps framing my back, the crystals on the dress catching every glimmer of light in Theo’s massive, walk-in closet.
I wasn’t prepared for the way I’d feel slipping my feet into a pair of high heels, shoes that once scared me but suddenly felt so powerful and right. I wasn’t prepared for the way I’d feel when Theo saw me for the first time, his eyes dancing over the length of me, from where I’d asked Emma to help me curl my long brown hair and do my makeup to where my freshly painted toes showed through the beige straps of my heels.
I wasn’t prepared for the way my stomach would lurch at the sight of him, Theo Whitman, one of the youngest billionaires in the world all dressed up to take me on a date.
He wore a smoke gray suit, tailored to perfection, each thread hugging him in a way that proved that suit was made only for him to wear. He’d paired it with a classic white dress shirt and all-black tie, and everything from his slicked hair to his polished dress shoes screamed power and affluence.
I wasn’t prepared for any of it — the way my arm fit so perfectly in his as we walked the streets of San Marco, or the way his eyes seemed to strip me bare over the candlelight of our dinner. I wasn’t ready for the onslaught of questions he would ask me as we ate, how he wanted to know everything about me — even though I felt like the most boring human in the world next to him.
That was another thing I hadn’t prepared for, how special I could feel as the center of Theo’s focus, or the way just a brush of his warm fingertips on my exposed back could jolt me to another time and place, like I could see where the night would lead and the rest of our lives, too.
It was terrifying, the possibilities that dress revealed to me.
And it was addicting in the way only the best drugs are.
“What are you thinking about?” Theo asked me after dinner as we strolled arm in arm through the town.
I smiled, leaning into him. “How much of my life has changed in what feels like a millisecond.”
“A good change, I hope.”
I let out a long exhale, letting my eyes wander the length of the stone walls that surrounded us, the ivy growing up the side of those ancient buildings. “I feel like there have been two of me my entire life,” I said. “The me stuck in this body, going through the motions, doing what I thought I should be doing. And the me who watched from the outside, silently walking behind me, hoping I’d take a moment just to turn back and remember there was more to me than I realized.”
“Wow,” Theo said, his eyebrows shooting up. “That’s deep.”
“And ridiculous,” I added, shaking my head.
“No,” he said quickly. “I… relate, actually. It’s easy to get caught up in taking the steps we think we’re supposed to take. And there is joy along the way, sure, but there’s also this ache that something is missing.”
“Exactly,” I said, pausing our steps. “Although, I’m not sure what could possibly be missing in your life,” I added with a chuckle.
Theo smiled, but it fell short, his eyes crawling up the alley that stretched out behind me. “Everyone thinks that. They look at me and see the company I built, the success I’ve had, the money in my bank account. But they miss how excruciatingly lonely all that can be.”
I frowned, squeezing his hand.
“I’ve spent most of my life feeling like every conversation I have is forced, every friendship is fake, every person I involve myself with is just waiting to ask me for something. It’s been that way since I was at Harvard. Before that, I knew my relationships were real. But after…” He paused, his eyes finding mine again. “You know, that was one of the first things that drew me to you.”
“What was?”
“The way you looked at me.” He smiled, like he was remembering the first day we met. “You didn’t look at me with opportunity in your eyes. You looked at me and found something worth capturing — so much so that you took a
