Page 55 of Tangled in Temptation

I had booked a modest hotel room for the night, not wanting to assume anything about the outcome of our conversation. The hotel was nothing like the Plaza, but I just needed a bed and a hot shower.

As the city came into view, a mix of excitement and nervousness settled in my stomach. I parked my truck and checked in, settling into my room. The Gala was just hours away, and my heart raced at the thought of confronting Timothy. Thankfully, I remembered the name of the store where I had picked out the dress. I was hoping they hadn’t delivered it to Timothy’s penthouse. That would leave me dressless and ruin the surprise. But I had already come up with a backup plan. If the dress was gone, I would find a secondhand store. I was in New York City; there would be countless stores that sold used gowns. I arrived at the boutique and approached the counter, where a trio of shop girls greeted me with bright eyes and cheerful demeanors.

“Hi, I was wondering if my dress was ready,” I said. “I’m Catherine Jacobsen.”

“Ah yes.” One of them smiled. “The alterations are done. I’ll grab it.”

A nervous knot formed in my stomach as I imagined the dress not fitting properly. I had very limited time to find another one if it didn’t fit right. And I certainly couldn’t afford to buy another like this.

The shop girl returned shortly, a garment bag draped over her arm. She unzipped it there on the counter and drew out a beautiful dress, its red fabric shimmering under the store’s bright lights. Relief washed over me as I eyed my dress and a flutter of excitement along with it.

“Would you like to try it on?” she offered, holding the gown up to me.

“Uh, no, thank you, I trust you.” I smiled. “How much do I owe you?” I asked.

“It’s already been taken care of. Mr. Hastings paid for the dress and the alterations when you were here.”

“Oh. Wow. Okay, thank you.”

I took the dress, holding it like it was precious cargo. It was too expensive to risk getting caught in a door or ripped out of my hands.

With that, I left the boutique to a chorus of goodbyes from the shop girls. As I walked back to my hotel room, a silent fear gnawed at me. The evening was drawing closer with every passing minute. Soon, it would be time to face Timothy.

Back in my room, I hung my dress carefully in the wardrobe and paced around, replaying our last conversation over in my head again and again. I rehearsed what I was going to say to him, how I would explain my feelings. He had been patient with me, but he had been hurt when I’d pushed him away. Would he even want to hear what I had to say? Or had he already moved on, healed from the wounds I had inflicted with my indecision?

I stood before the mirror in the hotel room; a reflection of me stared back. I looked tired and worn out, which wasn’t surprising considering the long drive and the emotional turmoil churning within me. Taking a deep breath, I began to prepare for the evening.

I stepped into the shower, welcoming the hot water that pounded against my skin, washing away the travel grime and easing my jumbled nerves a bit. I wrapped myself in a towel after drying off and sat at the vanity to apply my makeup. With each stroke of the brush, each sweep of the mascara wand, I tried to paint confidence onto my face. I chose a bold red lipstick, the same shade as my dress, hoping it would give me strength.

My eyes went to the dress, and I wondered if I had the nerve to do it. I still hadn’t even tried it on. It might not fit. Part of me hoped it wouldn’t. That would give me a good excuse to back out.

“You’ve come this far,” I murmured.

I would try it on. If it fit, fine. There was nothing that said I had to go. If it didn’t fit, I would hang it up, buy a six-pack of beer, and watch TV all night.

With that, I slipped into the dress. To my surprise, it fit like a glove. Looking at myself in the full-length mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back at me. The dress accentuated my curves, and the red color made my complexion glow. The transformation was remarkable; I looked every bit the part of a socialite.

I hoped.

Or did I hope? I didn’t want to be one of them. I just didn’t want to embarrass Timothy. This was an important night for him, after all.

Zipping up the back of my dress, I turned around to look at myself again. Suddenly, I felt a surge of courage. I looked beautiful, stunning even. I had been hiding behind my insecurities for so long that it felt liberating to step out of my comfort zone, even if just for one night.

I slipped into the high-heeled shoes that completed the ensemble. They felt strange and slightly uncomfortable, but they added an elegance to my look.

I stared at my reflection. Was I Regina pretty? Could I walk the walk and talk the talk with the other socialites? Maybe I wouldn’t have to talk at all. I could smile and hold on to Timothy like he was a lifeline.

“I can’t,” I groaned. “This isn’t me.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Timothy

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I KEPT MY EYES ON THE prize. It was just one night. I could get through it. All I had to do was smile and write a check. Regina thought she was going to somehow convince me that we were really supposed to be together.

It was never going to happen.