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Harper rolls onto her side for the umpteenth time. Her mind wanders without permission to the old apartment they used to share. To Victoria’s protests that Harper was stealing her blanket and Harper’s excuses, swearing she was innocent while three-quarters of the comforter was wrapped around her thighs. “Shit.” She can’t start the morning by letting herself get carried away by nostalgia.
Shortly afterward, the alarm goes off. Victoria turns it off at the first beep. Harper lies still and closes her eyes, pretending to be asleep. She’s not quite sure why she’s doing it. Maybe because seeing Victoria with her hair tousled and her eyes half-closed is like crossing a line she’s trying to avoid; or maybe because she’s afraid her ex-wife will read on her face that she’s been listening to her breathe like a teenager for hours.
She listens to Victoria’s barefoot footsteps. The sound of a drawer, then the glide of a zipper.
“I know you’re not asleep.”
Harper slowly opens one eye. Victoria is standing by the living room table, holding a bottle of water. Her hair is tousled, and she has a sleepy look on her face—a look Harper wasn’t prepared to face so early in the morning.
When she sits up, Victoria flashes a small smile and looks at her calmly.
“Good morning, Harper.”
“Good morning,” she mutters, pushing the sheet aside. Victoria sets the bottle down on the table.
“The meeting with the communications director is at 9:30. We have to be on time,” Victoria tells her. “And if we’re on time, we’ll have time to grab a drink near the office and go over the dossier one last time. Do you want to use the bathroom first? I still need ten more minutes to wake up and face the mirror.”
Harper squints.
“Okay, I’ll go first.”
Forty minutes later, Harper is standing in front of the full-length mirror in the dressing room. She’s opted for a midi dress in a deep teal blue that subtly shifts in hue depending on the light. It has a very understated square neckline, short sleeves, and a clean waistline that frames her figure without being too bold. It’s professional, impeccable, and projects the image of a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing. It also looks outrageously good on her—a detail that shouldn’t matter to her but makes her smile.
Behind her, Victoria is putting the finishing touches on her look in front of the vanity mirror. Harper tries to focus on her own earrings, but her gaze is drawn to the reflection. Victoria has chosen an ivory dress with architectural lines, featuring a subtle asymmetrical neckline and elbow-length sleeves. The fabric drapes over her curves, cinched by a thin, dark-colored belt. She looks… “stunning.”
Harper swallows and turns her gaze back to her own dress, frowning as she notices a small flaw.
“Damn it. The zipper’s caught at the bottom of the back.”
Victoria looks up from the mirror, still holding her makeup brush.
“What’s wrong?”
Harper turns her back to her, feeling ridiculously exposed.
“Can you give me a hand with the zipper, please? Before I lose my patience and rip the dress.”
Harper hears Victoria’s footsteps approaching.
“Stay still,” Victoria instructs.
Harper holds her breath. Victoria takes hold of the small zipper pull and begins to pull it up. She does it exasperatingly slowly. Harper doesn’t know if she’s doing it on purpose or if the fabric is putting up a fight. It’s almost torture. Victoria’s knuckles brush against her bare skin. Once. Twice. And suddenly, a sharp, violent shiver runs down her entire back, making the hairs on her skin stand on end.
Victoria stops moving the zipper, and her fingers rest on the back of Harper’s neck.
“Are you cold, Harper?” Victoria asks.
Harper stares intently at the mirror in front of them. Victoria is pressed against her back—so close that Harper can feel the warmth of her body.
“No. I’m fine. Finish zipping this up before we change our minds.”
Victoria flashes a small smile.
“Done.”
Harper spins on her heels. The distance between them is still ridiculously small. Victoria’s perfume completely envelops her.
“Thanks.”
