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“Lucky?” She arches an eyebrow as she looks him up and down with a scrutinizing gaze. “The jury’s still out on that.”
“You won’t need much convincing once I get started.”
I exaggerate a gagging noise. “Tone it down, quarterback.”
Beatrice places her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry to say that I forgot to take your journal with me. It was on the desk in the lobby, and it completely slipped my mind. I was too worried about forgetting your gown and shoes.”
Disappointment sinks into my gut, but I shove it down further. “It’s okay. You can give it to me another time.”
She drapes my gown over my arm. “Go get this on. I can’t wait to see you in it with your hair and makeup done.”
Inside the bathroom, I slip on the daffodil-colored gown and smooth my fingers over one of the rhinestone straps holding up the sweetheart neckline. The chiffon fabric is soft and comfortable as I move, twisting around to check out the back of the dress.
A soft knock taps against the door, followed by Jenny’s voice. “Can I come in?”
I crack it open, and Jenny slips inside. “Oh, wow. You look incredible, Char.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“But you wanted Bryce to see you in it.”
I nod, swallowing past the lump sitting in my throat. “Part of me wishes he’ll be there, just so I can see him. Even if it’s only for tonight.”
Jenny pulls me into a hug. “Wouldn’t that make it harder on you? To have to see him, but not be with him the way you imagined you’d be at this gala?”
“I don’t know. I just miss him so much, Jen.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She fixes a strand of my hair. “But you never know. Maybe he’ll come around one day. Maybe he needs some time to learn how to trust.”
I inhale a slow and steady breath, willing the tears to not ruin my makeup. “Maybe he just wasn’t the one for me.”
Jenny frowns, but doesn’t say anything. The truth is, no one knows what might happen or not happen. We just have to be who we are, do our best, and hope that one day it’ll be enough for someone.
I slip on my strappy rhinestone heels, say goodbye to Jenny, and then the three of us are on our way to the Waldorf Astoria.
“I’m going to have to do a little schmoozing,” Anthony says as we walk up to the entrance of the hotel. “But I’ll try not to leave you alone for too long.”
“It’s fine.” I link elbows with Beatrice. “I have my favorite person to keep me company.”
The Grand Ballroom is exquisite, with ornate crystal chandeliers and two levels of balconies overlooking the main floor. It’s as if we stepped inside an episode of Bridgerton, and are awaiting the arrival of the Duke and his new Duchess.
Beatrice finds our seats at one of the round tables while Anthony whisks me around the room, introducing me to teammates and other NFL bigwigs. I shake hands, and smile so much my cheeks start to ache, but the whole time my eyes scan the crowd for one person.
The one who I know isn’t here.
The one who should be here.
Is he home alone?
Is he thinking about me as much as I’m thinking about him?
Does he hate that I’m here with Anthony?
After twenty minutes of small-talk and schmoozing, an older man taps the microphone, garnering our attention. “If everyone will please take their seats. We’d like to begin.”
Back at our table, Beatrice laughs with Watson and Bentley. The first genuine smile tonight pushes up my cheeks as they each wrap me in a bear hug.
“It’s good to see you all again.”
