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“Will you go to the ball with me?”
“It feels so Cinderella when you say that,” she said with a smirk.
“Cinderella never had her own shop.”
“With a top-of-the-line convection oven on its way,” she reminded me, “thanks to the three of you. So, it’s possible you might be my fairy godmother, Noah. Since you were the one who found me with a major problem and called in the right people for the job.”
“That’s more of a project manager role than a fairy situation,” I said wryly. “I’d rather be the prince.”
“What if I’m the prince?”
“What?”
“What if I had it all wrong? Maybe you were in distress with an evil ex-girlfriend stalking you, and I’m the one who’s going to save you?” She said.
“I don’t want you anywhere near her. She’s not—rational. Let the cops be my fairy godmother or my prince or whatever they are in this analogy. I think I got lost in your logic.”
“Maybe because it’s not very good logic. I meant to tease you but then it felt serious because of what’s going on. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. You’re trying to help me. Never be sorry for that.”
“I guess now I have to go to the ball with you. I mean, such a hardship. I’ll have to get dressed up and go someplace beautiful with a handsome man on my arm and maybe he’ll ask me to dance.”
“I’ll ask you to dance anytime you want.”
“I’ll take you up on that. But the timer’s going off. Don’t want to burn the cherry chocolate muffins for tomorrow,” she said and grabbed an oven mitt to extract the latest batch.
Madison offered me a warm muffin to try her new recipe. I grabbed one out of the pan, too hot to touch and started trying to pass it from hand to hand because of the scalding heat. She grabbed a tea towel and seized the muffin, handing it back to me on the towel. “You’re such a guy,” she said fondly with a chuckle and returned to the cooling rack where she lined up muffins carefully for tomorrow’s breakfast rush at the shop.
I took my treat back to the table and while Leo grumped about not getting a muffin, Ethan nodded to me, “It feels good having her here.”
“Yeah,” I said, meaning it.
15
MADISON
When I unzipped the white garment bag that was delivered to my apartment, the fabric inside was emerald green. It wasn’t just a dress, it was an evening gown. The kind I used to dress my Barbies in as a kid. It was a bias-cut satin gown with a scattering of deep green beads sparkling down the skirt to hem encrusted with beaded detail that matched the fabric's color exactly. I tried it on, and the weight of the beadwork held the hem just so, a little train curving behind me that didn’t get in the way because of the design. The shoes were a work of art themselves, gorgeous strappy heels that gave me a little added height and made me stand with better posture. I pivoted in front of the mirror and marveled at how pretty these things were, how excited I was for Noah to see me in this gown.
That night, after a long session with my curling iron, I perfected the French twist and let a few tiny curls escape in front for a sexy, undone sort of upsweep, according to the TikTok I’d watched about six times. I threaded little gold hoops through my ears and ended up searching pics of Margot Robbie to figure out if I should wear a necklace with the dress. After I went down an internet rabbit hole ogling all the Barbie dresses, my alarm went off. I was glad I’d set it because that was my ten-minute warning until it was time to leave. I hastily plugged my phone in and went and applied another coat of mascara, slicked on my smear-proof red lipstick, and checked my teeth in the mirror.
When I heard his knock at my door, I had butterflies in my stomach like I was fifteen and going to prom. Not that I went to prom, but in teen movies, the girls always seemed nervous and bubbly at times like that. This was better than prom because instead of a too-tight dress from Goodwill and some scrawny, acne-faced boy, I was wearing my designer gown to meet the gorgeous fund manager who liked me. The smile on my face was as real as the jolt of confidence I felt when I opened the door.
The man standing there could stop traffic looking like that. Not only was Noah unfairly handsome in a world of ordinary-looking people, but he was wearing a tux that fit him like a tailor practically went blind getting every line exact and every hem perfect.
“Damn, Noah,” I said, grinning, “you look fantastic.”
His gaze raked me from my feet up to my face and swept back again for good measure. I could see admiration on his face along with a kind of animal reaction of want flickering in his eyes.
“You beat me to it,” he said, “I was too speechless seeing you in that dress. Let me tell you now. You’re exquisite, beautiful from head to toe. I knew you were beautiful, and that green would suit you, but you are something out of a dream.”
“Depending on whose dreams we’re talking about, we better leave now.”
“What does that mean?” he lifted a brow at me, cocky. “You been dreaming of me?”
“Maybe,” I answered, coy and giggly, feeling effervescent with his compliments.
I grabbed my phone and clutch and we drove off to the ball. It wasn’t at a hotel as I’d expected but at a grand private home outside the city. The kind of place with majestic columns and outdoor lighting to illuminate their landscaping perfectly. It felt just like a movie. Noah tucked my hand into the crook of his arm and led me inside. He presented our invitation, and we were announced at the head of a curving staircase. My heart pounded and I glanced at him, a little shy. Noah tipped his chin up and gave me a small smile. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin as he’d indicated and held on to his arm as we made our way down the long staircase. I was thankful for the way the train slid behind me without tripping me up, the strength of his arm beneath my hand and the certainty I felt that he wanted me and only me by his side tonight.
