“Actually… It’s fruity.” His tone is serious as he studies the glass. “Very fruity. Sweet, but not overly sweet. Some tannins in the finish.”
I have to laugh. He might as well be talking about a Bordeaux from Château Ausone. “So you’re saying it passed?”
“It’s certainly drinkable. And better than just juice.”
“I’m glad you approve,” I say with an exaggerated sigh of relief.
“Awesome,” Court says, obviously happy he doesn’t have to drink grape juice.
“Hold on a minute,” Tony says. He goes through the same process Edgar did, then takes a sip, holding it in his mouth a few moments longer than usual before swallowing. “Damn. It is pretty good.”
We clink glasses.
“To Jo and Edgar. May you be happy and in love forever,” Tony says with a wide grin.
At the mention of love, my heart constricts a bit as confusion and surprise flood through me. Didn’t Edgar tell them about how he feels about me? Or is it something that Tony just assumed?
From Court, Ivy and Pascal’s pleased expressions, it’s obvious that Edgar’s family believes that Edgar and I are together out of love. And Edgar’s looking at the four with a fond smile, like he’s grateful for their acceptance of our relationship and he has nothing to correct about what Tony just said.
With more control that I thought I could muster, I maintain my cheery face. I don’t want anybody to think anything’s wrong. And maybe, just maybe, Edgar didn’t correct Tony because he’s starting to have some feelings for me. He’s been much more open about wanting our relationship to become permanent—marriage and all. So it is possible that even though he initially said he didn’t love me, he’s starting to come around.
It puts me in an optimistic mood.
We start eating. As soon as food hits my belly, I realize I’m actually really hungry.
“So tell me what you do. I’ve never worked with a fashion consultant,” Pascal says.
“You want to hire her?” Court asks.
“I might, if I knew what it entailed.”
“Nothing complicated. I just make sure you look your best for whatever occasion you need to be at,” I say.
“And she handles fashion emergencies,” Edgar adds.
“Emergencies?” Ivy asks. “What would constitute a fashion emergency?”
In between bites, I tell them about the Maria drama I had to deal with today. Of course, I don’t mention her name. “She’d go around naked if I didn’t stop her, because she honestly doesn’t understand she needs to buy more than purses and shoes.”
“Can’t she just wear what’s in her closet? That’d be better than going nude,” Tony says.
I shudder. “I can’t even imagine what she’d do if I were to suggest such a thing. Probably carve my eyeballs out, then immediately go see her manicurist to fix her nails. She would literally rather die than be seen in the same thing twice.”
“I hate to say it, but she sounds like a bit of a diva,” Ivy says, waving her fork.
I nod, because as much as I love Maria, she is totally spoiled.
Edgar shakes his head. “You don’t charge her enough, Jo.”
“You don’t think so?” I try to hide how absurdly pleased I am with that assessment. Most men say I get paid too much…especially my exes.
“You put up with a lot of nonsense to spare your clients the public embarrassment they’d suffer without you. That’s got to be worth quite a bit, especially to people who care so much about their image.”
Does he know what he’s saying is sexier and hotter than him whispering I’m beautiful? A lot of people try to flatter me about my appearance, but not many tell me things that validate what I do.
“What he said.” Ivy swallows a bite of pad thai. “And I swear I will never be that client. Ever.”
“Seriously. And I thought I had some weirdo clients,” Pascal says.