Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93578 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 468(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Hutton entered the room as I was hanging up the other two. “Hey, I have to run down to the business center for a fax from Wade. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Okay.”
I ditched the robe and wriggled into the dress, which zipped up the side. Checking my reflection in the mirror, I smiled. It wasn’t too short or cut too low, but fit very snug from shoulder to knee and gave the impression of more curves. Winnie had said to wear it with the strappy red satin heels for a sexy pop of color.
In the bathroom I quickly gathered my hair into a low bun and stuck a few pins in it. Thanks to my self-inflicted haircut, shorter pieces still hung haphazardly around my face, and for a moment I thought about digging out my nail scissors and evening them out a little more, but then I remembered how Hutton had said asymmetry was beautiful too. So I let them be.
I traded my glasses for contact lenses for the night, even though they drove me nuts, and tried to remember how Winnie had done my makeup on Saturday. After about ten minutes, I thought I had a reasonable imitation. I gave myself a quick spritz of perfume and strapped myself into the heels—thanks to a little platform, they weren’t too treacherous to walk in, but the dress was so fitted, I did have to take small steps.
I walked out of the bedroom into the living room, where Hutton was standing at the windows overlooking Central Park. “Hi,” I said.
He turned around, and his jaw dropped. “Jesus.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“You took my breath away. I’d say that’s good.”
I smiled. “Thank you. You look very handsome.” He wore a suit in a shade of blue slightly lighter than navy. His shirt was white, and his tie was a soft amber color.
He ran a hand over his hair, which was neatly combed and sort of slicked back like an old Hollywood movie star’s, and then rubbed his jaw. “I feel like I should have shaved.”
“Nah, I like the scruff. Gives you some edge.”
Smiling, he came toward me, hands in his pockets. “Thanks.”
“Should we go?” I glanced at the door. “Our reservation is—”
“Just a minute.” He removed his hands from his pockets along with a small blue box.
A Tiffany blue box.
“Hutton.”
He opened it, and there was the ring.
Now I was the one who couldn’t breathe. I splayed a hand over my chest. “Hutton.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me that is not the ring I tried on today.”
“That is not the ring you tried on today.”
I met his eyes, catching a twinkle in their midnight blue. “Liar! You said we were leaving without the ring!”
“We did. This one came from another store. It has a stone with better clarity. That one had a blemish.”
“A blemish?” I squeaked.
“Yes.”
“Hutton.” I took a breath. “Tell me this is only on loan, like the necklace was in the movie. Remember? Richard Gere does not actually purchase the necklace for her. He only borrows it for the night.”
“Richard Gere’s not a real billionaire. I am.” He took the ring from its cushion and set the box on the dining table. “Will you wear it?”
I was so torn. I wanted to, but I could not accept this ring from him. “Oh, God,” I said, feeling like my heart was going to explode. “I want to, I really do—but it’s too much.”
“It’s just a gift, Felicity.” He took my left hand and slipped the ring on my finger. “Let me give you a gift.”
“For what?” My voice cracked, and tears threatened to ruin my carefully applied makeup. “I don’t need a gift for being your friend.”
“It’s not really for anything. It’s a symbol of our friendship. It’s a gesture of appreciation.”
“Huttonnnnn,” I whined softly, adoring the way the ring sparkled. “A gesture of appreciation is a latte or a sandwich. This is a diamond ring. It’s too much.”
He didn’t say anything right away, and his eyes stayed focused on my hand, which he still held. “I understand,” he said quietly, “that this is unusual. I know most people don’t gift diamond rings to their friends—it’s traditionally something reserved for the one person you’re going to spend your life with. Your soul mate. But you know what?”
“What?”
He offered a hint of a smile. “At the risk of sounding a little crazy, my mom taught me that there are all kinds of soul mates—past-life soul mates, kindred spirits, soul ties . . . She thinks there are certain people you just feel a deep, extraordinary connection with, and it transcends time and place as we know it.”
“I believe that,” I whispered, remembering how it had felt like I’d known him from the first time I saw him.
“So think of this as a symbol of that connection. Because even though we aren’t getting married, you are the person I cherish most, someone I will always want in my life. In fact, I feel one hundred percent certain our friendship will outlast all of Wade’s marriages.”