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wedding date. Or the fact that he’d have to pretend he was in love with me.
“But we can focus on you first. When is this social commitment I’m helping
you with?”
“Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at seven p.m.”
My whole body came to a halt. “Tomorrow?”
Aaron shifted in his seat, facing away from me. “Yes. Be ready at seven.
Sharp,” he remarked. I was so … out of it that I didn’t even roll my eyes at
him when he continued shooting orders, “Evening gown ideally.” His right
hand went to the car’s ignition. “Now, go home and rest, Catalina. It’s late,
and you look like you could use some sleep.” His left hand fell heavily on the
steering wheel. “I’ll tell you everything else tomorrow.”
Somehow, Aaron’s words registered only after I closed the front door to
my building behind me. And it was only a few seconds later, right after
Aaron’s car roared to life and faded away, that I allowed myself to really
process what it meant.
I’d be going on a date tomorrow. A fake date. With Aaron Blackford.
And I needed an evening gown.