In the end, it’s just me and Branson.
To my surprise, he leans forward and hugs me, lifting me off the ground.
“I’m beyond proud of you, Katherine. You knocked their socks off. Bravo!” The look of pure admiration in his eyes makes my heart flutter.
“You really think it went that well?” I say when he puts me back on the ground. “My ramblings were half-gibberish. There’s no way I made sense when I was talking about cross-market comparisons.”
“You were exceptional. You’re a star, love. Enjoy the moment, and don’t let it end because they’re all going to be at the New Year’s Eve gala and want to talk to you about some exciting opportunities. This is all the beginning for you.”
I push a loose tendril of my hair behind my ear. “Thank you, Branson. That’s … I’ve always wanted to hear your praise.”
His shoulders relax, and he takes a small step forward, placing his hand on my arm and leaning forward to kiss my cheek. “You always have my praise. I can’t wait for tomorrow night. It’s going to be unforgettable.”
The way his voice softens makes me feel like those words are more powerful than any other ever spoken.
“I’m sure it will be.” My smile is wide as I take a step back. “Do you mind if I head out early?”
“Of course not. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“Yes. I’ll see you then.”
I should feel amazing right now, but if I’m being honest with myself, I’m a little sad.
I want to tell Hunter about the presentation. I want to toast with him and celebrate, but I know I can’t go there right now.
I walk out of Empire Media and take the subway home. Every moment I shared with Hunter plays in my mind. The subway stops, and the sign outside my window shows I’m where I’d get off to go to the park. I smile at the memories it causes.
Our affair plays through my mind like an ode to Central Park. From dinner at Tavern on the Green to sleigh-riding in the park and roaming Belvedere Castle. I wanted a fairy tale, and I got one. Only Hunter wasn’t my prince I thought he was. He was the huntsman, looking for his next prize that I should have known he’d be. If he thought of me as more than that, then he wouldn’t have just expected me to give up everything I’d worked for and drop it on a dime. Life isn’t all fun and games.
When I get home, I’m excited to see Mittens, but I am floored when I see someone else standing in my apartment.
“Surprise! I flew home early! It rained the entire time, and my mom’s cooking sucks something awful.”
“You’re home early!” I run into Sofia’s arms and hug her with the mightiest of holds. Her body is tense, as she’s probably unsure of why I’m hugging her so tightly. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me in.
“What happened to you? Did the presentation not go well?” she asks.
I lean back and wipe the tears from my eyes. “I rocked it. Like, really freaking rocked it.”
“Then, why the dramatics?” she asks.
I sigh as I pull my hair back and hold it against my neck. “I fucked it up, Sof. Everything is just a mess.”
She eyes me curiously and points at me. “This is about men. This calls for margaritas and some serious girl talk. I need all the details. You get changed, and I’ll get the blender.”
I laugh and wipe my nose. “That sounds like exactly what I need.”
The next day, I stare at myself in the full-length mirror. My hair is down and in waves—a style I only achieved because Sofia and I used the spa gift card Branson had given me. My makeup makes me look like an old-school movie star with the deep burgundy of the shadow on my eyes matching my dress that hugs my body like a glove, giving me a voluptuous figure I never knew I had.
My mind keeps wandering to Hunter. I want him to see me dolled up like this. I can imagine his eyes lighting up the way they do in the movies when the guy sees the girl all dressed up for the first time.
That’s silly. It’s a romantic fantasy. Just like what I thought I had with Hunter.
“Holy wow. You look hot!” Sofia says from the doorway. She walks toward me and smooths the back of my hair. “You’re going to knock his socks off.”
I look at my reflection again and smile. “Yeah, Branson is going to love it.”
“Ooh,” she says, and I give her a scowl, which makes her laugh. “It’s just nice to see you’ve made up your mind.”
She scurries out my door before I can even reply to her comment. There’s a knock at the front door. As I walk toward it, I see Sofia has already closed her bedroom door. She knows I’m too private than to let her see me leave for a date. I like my moments to be, well, my own.
I open my door to see Branson Ford in a tuxedo that fits him like he’s Clooney in a GQ ad, paired with a bow tie and a French-cuffed shirt.
“Let me get my purse and coat,” I say to Branson.
He stops me by grabbing my hand and holding it out to the side, so he can get a good look at me. His sapphire eyes glisten in the way I envisioned Hunter’s would.
“Breathtaking,” he breathes out.
I offer him a smile because it’s the polite thing to do, and yet something tugs at me. I’ve wanted Branson to look at me this way for years. Seeing it now just makes Hunter’s words swirl in my head. He said Branson wants me now only because he did first. This event is no more than a means to get under my skirt.
I shake those thoughts from my head and reach for my items. “All ready,” I say with a forced air of cheeriness.
He holds out his elbow for me, and I stare at it for a moment. He’s being a gentleman, and all I can think of are Hunter and his words.
“Our chariot awaits,” he says.
I lock the door behind me, and we walk downstairs.
He holds the front door to my building open as I step outside. His usual town car is not waiting for us. Instead, there’s a limo.
“Who else is joining us?” I ask, glancing around the car.
“No one. I thought you deserved a special treat tonight. I guess you’ve never ridden in one?” He slides in the car as the driver holds the door open, and I take the seat beside him.
“Only for my high school prom, and there were sixteen of us packed in like sardines.”
“Rubbish. You should be escorted around town in the best. Don’t you get treated to finer things?”
He’s being sincere, which is one of his greatest qualities, and yet it feels off.
“I’m more of an Uber around town kinda gal.”
“That just shows you haven’t been around town with the right kind of man.” His comment comes off as pompous instead of genuine. Maybe it’s the accent. “Is everything okay, love? You don’t seem yourself.”
I play with the clasp on my purse. “Sorry, just a lot on my mind. I suppose I’m nervous about who you’re going to introduce me to.”
“Yes, that. I have a few people in mind.”
The car pulls up to the Fifty-First Street entrance of Rockefeller Center. The one with the lit-up marquee for the Rainbow Room and NBC News.
He opens his palm to me. “Shall we?”
I take his hand, and he escorts me out his side of the car, where I instantly drop his hand to adjust my dress.