They helped me move on from the pain and grief, then from an unexpected heartache too.
Now, I’m here. On the other side.
So I’ve begun exploring a world at night beyond the boardroom. A party here, a party there. I’ve enjoyed a few evening fetes as an observer, donning a mask, a costume, and a new hairstyle. Going for a whirl on the dance floor in a ballroom, letting music and champagne whisk me away to another time, to the Renaissance, to Venice, to Victorian England.
What wonders a party can work on a wounded heart.
A party can play its part in mending the soul.
“And now, perhaps for a little costume. Emphasis on little,” I say saucily to my best friend as I yank open the closet door.
Her jaw comes unhinged as she surveys the shelves and racks glittering with gowns, dresses, and finery.
“Girl, have you been buying out all the sexy costumes in this city?” She strolls in, checking out my walk-in wardrobe, filled with corset after corset, dress after dress. Vintage, Victorian, Venetian. Brocade, gothic, leather.
What can I say? Dress-up has always been my thing.
I bring a hand to my chest. “Moi? Would I do such a thing?” I bat my lashes.
Rolling her eyes, Eliza shakes her head. “You? Never.”
“Never say never,” I chide, as I run my fingers along a lacy number. “That’s another good rule to live by.”
“Indeed, it’s an excellent one,” Eliza says.
I shed my white bra, then grab the costume I picked for tonight. I remove it from the padded satin hanger. Stepping into the short skirt, I pull up the dress, adjust the folds of lush black satin and taffeta under it, then tug on the steel-boned corset. I suck in a breath and lace it up in the back, tie after tie.
This is no easy feat, strapping myself in.
But I’ve done it before, practiced it many times, and now I can tie up a corset solo. Skills—I’ve got ’em.
Still, Eliza sets down her clutch with a tut. “Allow me, friend,” she says, moving behind me and giving a final tug on the ties in the back. “Some things require two sets of hands.”
I glance behind me, casting her a naughty look. “Are those your words to live by?”
She laughs, then lets go of the ties. “You know, I think if I were to have words to live by, that would be a damn guideline.”
“I’ll consider adding it to my list.”
“You do that.”
Next, I adjust the slim shoulder straps, thin lace ones that barely cover my skin. The better to show off the shimmery gold powder.
I add stockings next, gently rolling up the lace, then attaching the tops to my garters.
Shoes come next—Victorian lace-up boots.
I swivel around, waiting for the appraisal.
Eliza whistles her appreciation.
I curtsy.
“I just have one question for you,” my friend continues as she gestures to my outfit. “How exactly do you plan on keeping the men at bay tonight?”
“Whoever said I’d be keeping them at bay?”
“So you’re ready, then?” Her intense gaze penetrates my sassy side. “This time, you’re ready? You’re sure?”
I swallow, thinking of why I’m ready, of how I’ve hurt. I nod, keeping myself together. “So ready.”
She squeezes my shoulders. “Good, Cinderella. I know the last few times we went out, you were all about watching from the sidelines, checking out the scene. Now you can spread your wings, let them unfurl.”
“This bird is aching to fly.”
A smile comes my way. “That makes me happy to hear. And judging from the way you look tonight, you’re going to have many takers.”
I eye her stunning attire. “And the same to you. I bet we’ll both be collecting numbers.”
A soft smile curves her glossy lips as she shrugs, a little helplessly. “Too bad I have my eye on only one number.”
I pat her arm, sighing sympathetically. “I know, Eliza.” Do I ever know? The man she longs for is all kinds of off-limits. Isn’t that often the way it goes with the ones we want the most? “Maybe tonight someone else will catch your fancy.”
“A woman can dream.”
Leaving my closet, I head to my jewelry box, selecting a delicate diamond choker.
I slide it on, the metal cool against my warm skin. I fasten the clasp at my neck, admiring it in the mirror, the way the stones catch the light.
I grab the last piece of the costume, but the most important one.
The one that completes my transformation.
I slide on a violet mask, the edges lined with feathers and gems, like a trussed up purple peacock.
Sounds about right. I’ve got a peacock in me, that’s for sure.
One last glance in the mirror. The mask does its job admirably, covering more than half my face, only exposing my lips, my chin, and my silver hair clip. The eyeholes are lined with the thinnest mesh, making my blue eyes even harder to recognize. They look simply dark, simply naughty.
They’re eyes shrouded in mystery, painted with intrigue.
But my belly flips with nerves.
Unexpectedly.
I set a hand on my stomach, trying to settle them, trying to talk back to the tension. But I don’t have to do that alone. I have a friend, and I turn to her, setting a hand on Eliza’s arm. “Do I look like Sage Carmichael? The woman whose heart was unceremoniously broken in front of the entire city?”
My voice wobbles as I think of that night several months ago. The night I very publicly learned what my ex had been up to. Or rather, who.
I don’t want to look like that woman tonight.
She shakes her head. “You never look like that to me. You always look like my friend, a person I respect, a woman who kept it all together after loss, and after cruel heartbreak. The woman with thousands of employees whose livelihoods she’s responsible for. The benefactor for charity after charity in this city.” She taps my sternum, nothing but strength in her voice, in her gaze. “That’s who you are.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Shut up. I love you.”
Tossing her head back, Eliza cracks up. “Aww, you’re sweet and mean at the same time.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Just call me a conundrum.” I draw a deep breath. “Also, thank you. I needed that.”
“I could tell, and it’s easy to say because it’s true.”
I smooth a hand over my dress, loving the way it makes me feel. And I want to feel like a different woman, the one who can come out to play at night. Tonight is a new beginning for me. An end to the heartache that’s haunted me for the last several months.
A heartache I’m shedding completely.
That’s who the woman in the black corset and violet mask is—the woman who’s moving on.
As we make our way through my suite, I pick up the thread of conversation again. “And for the record, you look like a woman who has all sorts of fabulous secrets.”
“Oh, so you mean I look like exactly who I am? One of the execs of the football team who’s secretly in love with the backup quarterback?”
I grab her hand, smiling softly. “Someday you’ll let me devise a plan for you and Xavier.”
“Until then, let us imagine,” she says with a smile and a laugh.
I share both with her too.