I know.
Two words. That’s all he sent. And I spent the rest of Sunday
turning them over like something I found and wasn’t sure how
to hold. More than I know how to say in a text message. I know.
Like we’d already had the conversation without having it.
Like we were just waiting for the right moment to say it
out loud.
Victor’s schedule arrives Monday morning and gives us one.
One event. This Friday. The Hargrove Foundation Gala, black
tie, full press presence. And at the bottom, in Victor’s
precise handwriting: This one matters. Look the part.
Look the part. As if that’s still what we’re doing.
I wear the burgundy dress. The one I bought with my own money
back in chapter seven of this whole situation, when I was still
pretending this was just business. It fits differently now
