“You told me you’d love to come to one.”
“I don’t know anyone in the city who wouldn’t.”
“So why aren’t you saying yes?”
I licked my lips. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’ll love it.”
“How can you be so sure I’ll come?”
“It’s still one week away. Plenty of time for me to win you over. And I intend to do just that.” Had his purpose been to make me blush and grin at the same time? Because he’d succeeded with flying colors. I’d almost asked how exactly he intended to do that but caught myself in time. I didn’t need to know everything. In fact, it was better if I didn’t.
***
Avery and I spent that evening pampering ourselves. I loved these quiet evenings at home with her, where we got to dream and just be girly. I’d brought out the nail polish and was currently painting her nails. Next, I did mine, even applying a coat of glitter (having a kid gave me a perfect excuse to let my inner four-year-old come out and play).
Once we were done, we both danced around the house, waving our nails in an exaggerated manner for the polish to dry (I’d learned the hard way that even with a coat of “quick-dry” you were never safe for at least fifteen minutes).
We blasted music through the living room, being silly and just forgetting about the world, right until the doorbell rang. I stilled. Avery frowned as I turned down the volume. Had it been too loud?
“Is someone coming to visit?” she asked.
“No.”
I just hoped it wasn’t the landlord, coming to tell me that he’d changed his mind and two months of prepaid rent wasn’t enough.
“Why don’t you go to your room while I see who it is?”
“Okay, Mommy.”
In case it was the landlord, I didn’t want Avery to hear us. I hadn’t told her that we might have to move. We’d painted the walls in her room by ourselves, bought the furniture together. It was the first real home we’d both had. I wouldn’t lose it.
I gave myself a mental pep talk, trying to decide on the best course of action in the seconds it took me to reach the door.
It wasn’t my landlord. It was a delivery guy holding an envelope.
“Ms. Heather Prescott?”
“Yes.”
“I have a delivery for you.”
“What is it?”
He cocked a brow. “I don’t know. I’m just delivering. Sign here, please.”
I signed the sheet of paper he held in front of me.
After he left, I closed the door, leaning against it and inspecting the envelope. It didn’t say who the sender was. Everything I’d received from my landlord before had had his contact information scribbled on it.
Come on, Heather. You’re not a chicken. Just open it.
I opened the envelope and found two smaller ones inside. They were golden, and I could swear they smelled like lavender. One had my name on it, one Avery’s. What on earth? I opened the one addressed to me.
Dear Ms. Heather Prescott,
You are hereby cordially invited to the first spring ball. We are celebrating in style on Friday at the March Ballroom Gala. The party starts at 6:00 pm. We hope you will join us and look forward to your RSVP.
Yours,
The Winchester & Caldwell Families
I reread the invitation about five times before it sank in. Below was an RSVP card with the date of the event on it. Oh, Ryker. I couldn’t believe he’d actually done this. I didn’t even know they sent out printed invitations. I held it closer to my nose, sniffing. It smelled like lavender. He probably knew my address from the fund’s HR. I’d had to tell them my information.
“Mommy, can I come out?” Avery called.
“Yes, yes, of course.”
“Who was it?”
“The postman. He brought us something. Here, this is for you.”
She snatched the golden envelope I handed her. Her little mouth formed an adorable O when she read her name. I never saw her handle anything with more care than this envelope. She opened it slowly, retrieving the invitation even slower.
“It says here Miss Avery Prescott. I am a miss? Wow.”
I went behind her, reading over her shoulder.
Dear Miss Avery Prescott...
Oh, Ryker. He certainly knew how to play his cards. Our names were handwritten. Had he done this himself?
I could read it out loud to her, but since she’d started reading, she loved doing it by herself. It took a while longer, but I loved watching her. I could practically feel her light up. The Ballroom Galas were so legendary that even Avery knew about them.
When she turned around, she was smiling from ear to ear. I melted on the spot. I hadn’t seen her this happy in a while.
“Mommy,” she whispered. “I don’t understand. It says here it is for me.”
“It is.”
“But kids at my school say only important people go.”
“I guess you’re important, lovebug.”
“Can I go without you?”
What?
I waved my own invitation in front of her. “I’ve got one too.”
“So, you’re important too?”
I burst out laughing. She looked almost disappointed that she wasn’t the only important one here.
“Yes, lovebug.”
“And we’re going?”
“I have to check my calendar.”
I read over the note again, trying to buy myself time. But Avery was watching me with wide, expectant eyes. Then she wrapped her arms around me.
“Please, please, Mommy. I promise I’ll be good for a whole month. Go to bed early, not steal cookies.”
“You’ve been stealing cookies?” I feigned surprise.
She winced. “Sometimes. Please don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad. But you have to be careful. They’re not good for your teeth.”
“Mommy! Please say yes.”
I was so torn. I wanted to make Avery happy. I wanted to make Ryker happy too... even though I had a hunch that involved far more than agreeing to the gala. But whatever reservations I still harbored, I just didn’t have it in myself to wipe Avery’s smile away. Which left me with only one outcome.
“Yes, we’re going.”
“Yeeeees! Thank you, Mommy.”
Avery jumped in my arms, lacing her small arms around her neck in one of those hugs I loved so much.
“Can I stay up late tonight?”
I laughed. Typical Avery. She’d gotten her way with one thing, and automatically pushed the next item on her agenda.
“No, honey. You still have to wake up early tomorrow.”
Avery pouted but didn’t insist. I was dying to try on a dress I thought would fit, but first had to put Avery to bed.
I shot Ryker a quick message.
Heather: Just received the invitations. Avery is psyched. And so am I.
The next second, the screen lit up with Ryker’s name. I debated answering, but instead rejected the call, typing yet another message.
Heather: I’ll call you after I put Avery to bed, okay? About half an hour.
Ryker’s reply came almost immediately.
Ryker: Non-PG 13 call? I like the sound of it.
I blushed violently. I finished Avery’s routine with ten minutes to spare, took the invitations, and darted to my bedroom. It was small—since I was single, I’d left the bigger bedroom to Avery, and even that wasn’t too much space. I’d pushed a small double bed against the wall and had a tiny nightstand next to it. My dresser was just at the foot of the bed.