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Vi glanced in the mirror. Thank goodness Mother had tutored her in the art of makeup. She didn’t wear it much, but she could apply it with the best of them. Her skin felt heavy beneath the extra cosmetic layers.
If only the dress would arrive. The shoes had come this morning, a pair of strappy black stilettos. The gorgeous heels wouldn’t do her ankle any favors. Dressing up without the boot for an evening would be worth it.
“This do is perfect on you, Vi. You’re the real, live version of a fairy tale princess.” Brenna stood back to examine her handiwork, then tugged at the large braid. The loose, thick weave swept up on the sides and trailed down her back into a minute pearl barrette.
“Let me use spray to hold it.” Brenna held the bottle, aimed and ready.
“As long as it stays soft—no metal hair.” Vi rearranged a curly tendril around her face.
Once the mist had cleared, Brenna leaned next to Vi’s ear. “Are you going to kiss him tonight?”
The roots of her hair tingled. “Thinking about it.”
Paige smirked. “You ought to lay one on him, mija. The poor man hasn’t had a good kiss on New Year’s Eve in years.”
“Poor Rory.” Sarcasm threaded Vi’s tone.
Brenna put her hand to her mouth to hide her smile.
“Any new tracking info on the dress?” Vi’s foot jiggled nonstop. “What if there’s a glitch?”
“No glitch. The dress will be here any minute.” Paige studied her phone screen, then looked at Vi. “I’ve cut the timing closer with shipping. The gala doesn’t start for another hour. We’ve got plenty of time.”
“What if it doesn’t fit or looks terrible?” Vi’s voice rose. Her matching fingers and toenails twinkled with pizzazz. According to Paige, fire engine red was rated as the only accessory color that mattered.
The doorbell rang. Cyrus scrambled from under the vanity, barking ferociously.
“The dress!” Brenna ran to the door.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Rory tugged on his collar an hour into the gala and stifled the urge to check his phone. Vi had texted eons ago to say she was running late. A business acquaintance standing next to him continued his spiel. Nodding at intervals, Rory had no clue as to what the man said. The collective gala mindset lived for appearances and laying down sizeable sums of money. His private mission, however, consisted of enjoying the evening with Vi.
He asked for seltzer water when a server slid by with a tray of champagne flutes. The server inclined his head a fraction, then headed back to the kitchen.
Richly decorated in red and gold, the enormous room sprawled with round tables strategically placed for mingling. Black drapes billowed from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Soft strains of a band warming up drifted through the opulent atmosphere. An appetizer buffet boasting fresh garlicky shrimp brought back memories of his prequel date with Vi. Rory wished for another evening at her place, eating on the balcony, or walking around the lake together. Even sharing difficult parts about their pasts had been beautiful. In an impossibly short time, Vi had become vital to his well-being. He’d survived without a leg. She was his heart and his lungs—no chance of survival without her. He glanced toward the entry doors for the zillionth time.
Giddy laughter nearby turned his veins to ice.
Melissa.
She flounced his way as the band struck up a country-western love song. He gazed at the black toe of his polished dress shoe. Please hurry, Vi.
The man he’d talked to had disappeared. Melissa took his place, chattering in her high-pitched voice. He grudgingly conceded the woman looked pretty in a fluffy pink concoction, even if her hair was scooped to one side in a weird pile. If only she would zip the lip. The glass of seltzer water at his elbow provided a much-needed distraction. The acidic liquid burned his parched throat.
“Now, look what you’ve done. Your bowtie’s askew. Let me fix it.” Melissa fussed over his tie, hen-like and cluckish.
He attempted to remove her hands. “Thanks, Melissa.”
Anticipation buzzed around Rory, and the ocean of people parted. His breath swooshed out.
Vi had arrived.
She appeared oblivious to the curious stares, gliding toward him in an off-the-shoulder purple dress. The ever-sophisticated cocktail crowd gawked over her newcomer status. The band’s melody filled the sudden hush.
As Vi drew near, her pink lips tipped in a mysterious smile. Dazzled right down to his toes, Rory couldn’t take his eyes off her. The wild elegance of her swept-up braid did funny things to his brain. The dress cast her eyes in the violet hue he loved.
“Glad you made it, babe.” He managed, his voice husky. Melissa huffed and stalked out of his space. Vi kissed him on the cheek, then spoke in a low, just-for-him voice, “Sorry you had to wait.”
