Page 8 of Tempt Me
“Max does what?” I pause, thrown. “You’ve seen him staring at other women?”
Amanda coughs and looks away. “Just sometimes, like you did with this guy. It’s natural. I mean, just because you look doesn’t mean you’re going to touch, right?”
“Of course not.” I say it automatically.
“Then there you go.” Amanda fixes me with a look. “Unless...”
“Unless what?”
“Unless this isn’t about Mr. Sexy Pants at the open house. Maybe you’re getting cold feet.”
I shake my head. “No, that’s not it.”
“Really?” Amanda looks at me carefully. “Things have been moving so fast with Prince Charming. I mean, the minute you met, he started showering you with gifts and flowers, and then suddenly you’re engaged? It’s OK if you want to pause and take a breath.”
“I don’t want to pause,” I say, even though I’ve been wondering the same thing myself. “Max is perfect,” I insist. “He’s sweet, and kind, and wants to take care of me.”
“Still...” Amanda bites her lip. “I don’t want you rushing into this. You should take the time to get to know him. Find out if he’s really as perfect as he seems.”
I give her a reassuring smile. “Nobody’s rushing. The wedding isn’t until a year from now, remember? That’s plenty of time. And Max is perfect,” I add. “I’m lucky he even looked at me at all.”
My phone buzzes with a text. “See, it’s him now,” I say, checking the screen. “Can’t wait to see you, baby.” I read aloud, smiling. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”
“That’s right, I forgot about the party,” Amanda says. “What is it this time—Rich People Supporting Fancy Art?”
I smile. Busted. “The Boston Philharmonic Season Gala.”
“So I guess that means you won’t stay for another drink?”
I shake my head, and reach for my purse. “Sorry, I should go get ready. But I’ll come work the market with you this weekend.”
Amanda lights up. “Thank you, thank you! And remember,” she adds, calling before I leave, “if anyone asks how you’re looking so radiant, tell them Amanda Bryant skincare!”
*
I take the subway home, thinking about what Amanda said. Maybe I am overthinking this—it’s OK to notice another guy’s attractive, but that doesn’t mean I’d ever accept Jase’s dirty invitations, however hot he made me feel. Max is the man I’m marrying, and he’s the perfect gentleman. Kind, and sweet, and attentive...
My friends are right, it’s like something out of a fairytale. One minute I’m rushing down the street, running late with Marcie’s morning coffee, and the next, a handsome stranger is picking me up off the ground. He even presented my broken heel to me like it was the crown jewels. My very own Prince Charming—and the nickname stuck. After that, it was a whirlwind of romantic dates, gorgeous flower bouquets, and candlelit dinners. I couldn’t believe it. My dating life before him was pretty ordinary—guys would ask me out to dinner and a movie, or a concert sometimes if a rock band was in town, but now I’m being whisked off to New York for the night to the theatre, and dining at the best restaurants in the city. I’ve felt like I’ve been floating six feet off the ground, but still, I never expected him to propose, not when we’d known each other barely three months. But he dropped to one knee during his parents’ anniversary dinner and asked me to marry him, in front of everyone.
One little question, and my life would be like this forever. What else could I say but “yes”?
Except maybe it’s all moving too fast...
My phone buzzes again when I’m just a block from home, and this time, it’s Max calling me.
“Hey beautiful,” he says when I answer, and I can’t help but smile.
“Hey, I’m just on my way home.”
“Good. I had a little surprise sent over.”
“Max!” I laugh, touched. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, I wanted to. It’s for the gala tonight. I’m coming straight from the office, so I’ll send a car for you. It’ll pick you up at eight.”
Max hangs up, and I climb the stairs to the apartment I share with Amanda. It’s just a small space, with pipes that freeze every winter and a view of the trashcans out back, but it’s tucked on a cute street in the North End, with a bakery on the corner that serves the best coffee around. As I reach our door, I see the surprise Max talked about: a huge box emblazoned with the Bergdorf’s label, with two more boxes piled on top.
I can’t help but feel a skip of excitement as I open up and carry them inside. Every day with Max is like my birthday. Even though I’ve tried to make him stop, he still showers me with gifts all the time, and I never know what I’m going to find inside. This time, I lift the lid and peel back layers of tissue paper to find a formal gown, floor-length layers in beaded green satin. There are silver Jimmy Choo sandals in another box, and a tiny beaded clutch purse too.