Page 107 of Just for Tonight

“That’s brilliant,” Madison says softly.

“My mom always looked great. She always had the right thing to wear, and this woman earned her commission.”

Madison has her phone out again. “There has to be an app I could use for that,” she says.

“Well, first you need some regular customers,” I say and she looks up again. “What would you charge to go through my wardrobe and pick my good matches and less-good ones?”

“Like your wardrobe consultant?”

“Maybe just a one-time consult, then you could call me if you had anything that fit the gaps in my wardrobe.”

There’s silence that makes me wonder, but when I glance over, Madison is grinning as if she’s won the lottery.

“My wardrobe consultations are five hundred dollars,” she says, with no shortage of confidence in her abilities. “I’ll do yours for half-price if you give me a referral.”

I shake a finger at her, smiling myself. “That’s what Jake was talking about. You’re on.”

She laughs and is charming the rest of the way back to Empire, which I guess is how it shakes out when you give someone an idea of how to achieve their dreams.

I’m wondering what will be tagged for departure besides the white shirts.

The others are already at the bistro when I arrive because I’m late but no one comments. I’m often late. I work a lot. They’re used to it. The bistro is already closed and Sylvia has joined the table with Daphne, Cameron and Willow. Frilly drinks have been served. Merrie is bringing an antipasto tray that has to be four feet long and as soon as she sets it down, everyone dives in.

I go to the bar, find a bottle of our Sauvignon Blanc that’s open and pour myself a glass. I settle in at the table like I’m not wishing I’d figured out a way to stay in Toronto and spend the evening with Jake. Instead, I sip and smile.

It’s like it’s destined to be. Someone mentions Jake and I pretend to be indifferent, listening avidly all the while.

“They say he’s an asshole,” Merrie says, inviting contributions from everyone else.

Sylvia nods agreement but no one else contributes.

“That’s certainly his party line,” I say.

“You remember him?” Willow asks.

“Sure. Don’t you?”

“Not really,” she says and smiles. “Random gorgeous Cavendish crown prince. There were so many of them.”

They all laugh.

“He’d be the first to tell you that he’s an asshole,” Sylvia says. “I don’t remember him much from high school, but he’s told me as much twice this month.” Sylvia is, of course, in love with Jake’s younger brother, Mike. They’ve gotten back together since her return to Empire and wedding bells are ringing, much to the satisfaction of their daughter, Sierra.

Everyone nods wisely and eats prosciutto.

I turn to Cameron. “Have you ever slept with an asshole?”

“Oh yeah,” she says, then sighs. “Way too many times.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re invariably gorgeous and I am a sucker for a square jaw and a tight butt.”

“Ruggedly handsome,” Willow agrees.

“That little knowing smile,” Merrie says.

“The way their eyes kind of glow with what might be appreciation,” I say and everyone nods.