Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 78142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78142 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
I leave the music store, and… Now what? It’s not quite dinnertime, although I can always eat.
But I just spent fifteen bucks I don’t have on some sheet music I’ll probably never use. Just because it bears my sister’s name—the name I try not to think about but is always there.
Fuck it all.
I walk for another hour, breathing deeply, until I decide it’s time to return. Walking past the rehab center, I’m tempted to go in. Former residents are allowed to pop in at any time and talk to one of the counselors on duty.
Sometimes we can even get a free meal out of it if we come at the right time.
It’s too early for dinner, though.
I turn and head toward Diana’s building. I suppose I have to talk to her eventually.
I just hope I can find the right words.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Diana
I hate the designation of “business casual.”
Growing up on a ranch, we never thought much about clothing. I probably thought more of it than my younger sister, Brianna. She was happy in jeans, a western shirt, and sparkling cowboy boots.
That’s all we wore around the ranch when we were working. I may come from money, but we all were taught the value of a dollar and a hard day’s work.
But I was the one who enjoyed fashion. Brianna couldn’t care less about any of that. Once I got into high school, I’d go into the city on wild shopping sprees, looking for the latest and greatest dresses that I could wear at school dances.
Then, when I got to college and began to study architecture, I went for more of a professional look. I wear a lot of suits with either pants or pencil skirts complete with a blazer and basic pumps.
I assembled an entire closet full of beautiful business clothes, only to find out that my new firm—the biggest architecture firm in the state of Colorado—has now gone business casual with an even looser dress code on Fridays.
If I show up in one of my Diane von Furstenberg suits, I’ll look like a complete outsider.
I spread several outfits out on my bed. Am I overthinking this?
Probably, but tomorrow will be my first day, and I need to make the right impression. Most of my suits would look way too zipped-up and unapproachable.
But a casual sweater and a pair of black slacks might not be enough.
“Ugh!” I shout out loud.
I don’t like any of the clothes I’ve picked out.
I go back to my large walk-in closet and scan the racks once more.
What do you wear to the most sought-after job in any young architect’s life—especially when you want to be assigned to their biggest project?
The office is business casual, and you don’t want to look uptight.
My gaze finally falls on a pair of slacks. They’re dark gray, and I hadn’t considered them before because they’re actually yoga pants made to look like slacks.
But man, they do accent my ass like nothing else. Those with a pair of black patent-leather pumps—or maybe I should go for regular pebbled leather—and a crisp white blouse might just be perfect.
But which white blouse? I decide on a fitted cotton number that is actually meant to be worn untucked. Because these pants are actually yoga pants, I can’t wear a belt with them, so any other blouse wouldn’t look right.
I heave a sigh of relief.
It’s not perfect, but it will do. During my several interviews, I took note of what the other women were wearing. Very few of them wore dresses or skirts. I thought about going shopping and buying a whole new wardrobe for this job, but that seemed outrageous. Just because I can doesn’t mean I should.
I’m happy with the outfit I chose, but then I start to panic again.
That’s just for tomorrow. There are four more days in the week. Plus…casual Fridays.
Wearing jeans to work in a downtown architecture firm doesn’t sit well with me. Sure, I grew up wearing jeans, but that was on a ranch.
I traipse through my walk-in closet, again pulling on various pieces of clothing and considering them. Is this how it will be now? Panicking until I know what I’m going to wear for every day of the week?
I finally hang everything back up. I’ll worry about Tuesday’s outfit tomorrow night.
If only I could just wear the same thing every day.
I walk out of my bedroom and into the kitchen to see what I can make myself for a quick supper.
The door opens, and I look over my shoulder to see Dragon walking in. He’s carrying something. It looks like a paper of some sort.
My nipples harden, and I say a silent thank-you that I chose a padded bra today. I wish I knew what to say to him.
I settle on, “Hi.”
“Hi,” he says.
“I’m fixing some dinner. You want anything?”