"Wow."
I pick it up and hold it to my body. I glance down. It's heavier than it looks, but small, and I don't know if my boobs will fit inside. It's just as gorgeous as the shoes and I can't wait to try it on.
"Okay. What kind of money does Danny boy make? Because that's a Badgley Mischka dress, and not off the rack either."
“You can tell that at first glance?"
"Oh, yeah." Her eyes drop to the black tissue. "Oh hey, there's another box."
"Take it out and open it," I tell her, holding onto the dress still.
Natalie does, and we both gasp at the glittering jewels inside. Dainty diamond teardrop earrings that will complement the dress perfectly along with a slender ring. Leaning over, Natalie looks inside the box and rifles through some more, then turns around and walks out without saying anything.
Fuck. My. Life.
The next time I see James I'm going to have to set some boundaries, like not sending gifts to the home I share with his daughter, regardless if they're anonymous or not. I feel nauseous, and even though I know this gift is for the event he mentioned, I can’t live on eggshells worrying if he’ll try something like this again.
"Here. You're going to need this," Natalie says, storming back into my room with her hand out. She's holding her favorite beige Chanel clutch. A vintage she paid an exorbitant amount of money for on eBay.
"Oh, Nat, I can't."
She shoves it at me. "Nope. Take it. You need a purse, and this one will complete your outfit. Trust me."
Hesitantly, I take it and thank her. A tightness spreads throughout my chest from the guilt consuming me. I try to take small, inconspicuous breaths so she doesn't notice the panic attack rising inside me. There's a throbbing on the side of my head near my temple and I’m terrified I’m going to break.
Natalie clucks her tongue in approval.
"I don't know what you're doing to keep Danny happy, but whatever it is, keep doing it. That dress is going to look stellar on you. Oh! Let's do natural makeup. Does he like your hair up or down?" When I don't respond, she leans around to look at me and says, "What's wrong?"
I shake it off, eyeing the bounty. "Nothing, I'm just surprised is all. Down. He likes my hair down," I say quietly.
"Perfect. We'll do loose, wavy curls. When he sees you, he's not going to be able to take his hands off you."
Natalie squeals. She's so eager. If I was in a better mood, I would've made fun of her for it, but I'm not.
"I'm so excited for you! I bet he fucks you senseless in the limo before you even get there." She rolls her eyes and fans herself. "So hot."
Natalie elbows me and I offer her a timid smile. I'm too ashamed to look at her.
If she only knew she was actually talking about her dad.
Forty-Three
/> I need the Percocet to kick in before I walk downstairs.
My fingers are jittery, fucking butterflies wreaking havoc in my stomach, and no matter how many times I told Natalie I didn't need her help, she insisted on being there.
I have to give it to her, she made me look absolutely stunning. Ethereal, almost.
I should've taken a shot before I left, but I knew James would want to have a few drinks later, so I held off. But, dear God, my nerves are fraying at the ends right now. I've done this sort of things many times before with other married men, so technically it's nothing new for me. I shouldn't be this worked up, but I am. Worse than ever. I really shouldn't be doing this, yet here I am pulling up to the bar to meet James, and to stay the night with him.
I'm a filthy fucking piece of shit best friend.
I have a plan, though. First, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind. Second, I know he's going to want sex, and while I'm cool with that, I won't allow myself to orgasm. I'm not going to tell him this, obviously. If I wasn't attracted to him the way I am, then it wouldn't be an issue for me to come. But I am, and that only complicates things. Sex creates this sense of euphoria in me. This addicting desire I want to chase. Add emotion to the equation and it’s a recipe for disaster and not something I'm interested in cleaning up.
Exhaling a deep breath, I step inside the swanky bar and glance around. There are mostly couples here, but I can see a few single patrons. The conversation is low, intimate, and I feel the pull to James before I look for him.
Our eyes meet and my lips part. All the air leaves my lungs. My heart thumps at the sight of him leaning against the bar on his elbow looking fine as hell.