Part 30 (1/2)

”Well, for starters, sometimes it feels like you're always in control. I'm always the one waiting for your signal, asking myself a million questions. When will I see you next? Where will you take me?” I explain. ”I wanted to be the one who made you wonder, for once.”

”Well, you certainly achieved your goal. Do you not like the way our arrangement works?” he asks, genuine concern in his eyes.

”It's fine. But, when you're jetting off to who-knows-where, I'm left back here, waiting for you.”

”It bothers you when I go away with my family?”

I hesitate before telling him, ”I get a little jealous...the thought of you and her in all these exotic places.”

The color drains from his face. He closes his eyes and lets out a huge sigh. ”Mirella,” he starts. ”We discussed this a long time ago. There is no room for jealousy in this arrangement.” His tone is condescending-I feel like a child being scolded.

I'm just human, for f.u.c.k's sake.

”If you can't-”

”I'm fine, really.” I realize I'm threading a line here. ”No, really, I'm fine, Weston,” I lie. ”I just miss you, that's all.”

”I miss you too. Very much.”

It's Sunday morning, and Gabe has gone out to train at his club. He usually trains and spars with his buddies, Jason and Rob. He also hangs out with Stephen, an old friend from high school. But mostly, he likes to spend time with the girls and me.

I've made a late breakfast-pancakes, eggs, and cut-up strawberries.

I'm still on a high.

As soon as I get the chance, I call Gwen and tell her all about the dress. She asks me to describe it, but I can't really do it justice. How do you describe something so beautiful?

Gwen shows up at my doorstep an hour later.

She storms into the house, not even taking off her wedges. ”Let me see it.”

I laugh. ”Come to my room.”

We run up the stairs like giddy school girls.

I slowly drag the dress out from the back of my closet. I've hidden it from Gabe. When I came home, after my date, he wasn't home yet. This bothered me somewhat. I came home relatively late-Caroline had fallen asleep on the sofa. I wondered what he and Bridget were up to. Anyway, I don't want him to know Weston has given me such a wonderful gift. Gabe will never notice it in my closet-he's not very observant when it comes to my clothes. If I ever choose to wear it again, I can simply tell him I bought it myself-a little white lie.

I hand the dress to Gwen.

Her jaw drops.

She eyes the label, and her eyes practically pop out of her head.

”Holy h.e.l.l, Mirella,” she almost yells. And I kind of want to scold her for cursing in my house, but I let it go.

”What?”

”This is a Jeanne Lanvin dress.”

”Is that good?” I ask. I don't know nearly as much about fas.h.i.+on as Gwen does. I don't really care about labels-I just like pretty things.

”You can't even buy a dress like this,” she explains, her eyes still wide as saucers. ”This is the kind of dress they hang in museums. This dress is worth like ten, twenty grand...or probably even more.”

My heart drops.

It really isn't a big deal, Mirella.

He might as well have bought me a car.

”Who knows exactly...I'm not sure,” she says. ”I'm no expert,” she adds as she trails her fingers along the embroidery. ”Do you know how old it is?”

”The lady at the shop said nineteen thirties.”

”Wow...” she says, looking over at me.

Her gaze softens, and there's a hint of concern in her eyes. ”Mirella...I don't know...” she trails off.

”What?” I ask, eager to know what's bothering her all of a sudden.

”You should probably be careful with him.”

”Why?” I ask. ”What do you mean?”

”I think he might be in love.”

I've been thinking about Gwen's words. I really don't think Weston's in love with me. He's just fond of grand gestures-everything has to be grandiose with him. And since he's filthy rich, a ridiculously expensive gift might not represent as much to him as it might for the rest of us lowly middle-cla.s.s civilians.

I tell myself I'm not going to dwell on it. And I act like everything is just as it was before.

Weston and I are scheduled to go out next Sat.u.r.day, the day after his birthday. He never mentioned his birthday was coming, but I know since I've done more than my share of cyber-stalking.

I really want to get him something. But what do you get for the man who has everything? He gives me a priceless dress, and what do I get him...a lame tie? I've been racking my brain about it for weeks.

And I know I'm breaking the rules-giving him a gift.

But he did.

Therefore, so can I.

I decide to contact Kathryn.

Dear Kathryn, I am looking to get a little something for Weston's birthday.

Could you please ask him for any advice?

Cheers, Mirella I pace all day, impatiently awaiting her reply. I wonder if Weston could even give me an idea. He seems like the kind of person who is very particular.

Finally, toward the end of the day, I'm surprised to receive an e-mail, not from Kathryn, but from Weston himself.

Dear Mirella, I was amused to receive your message from Kathryn. How did you even know it was my birthday? It appears someone has been doing a little spying.