Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115198 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“Okay, but this?” I point to the gleaming hard-sided cubes. “These look like Transformers.”
Vivi ignores this, unfolding the crisp set of papers. “He sent an itinerary.” She whistles. “Girl. There’s a party almost every day.”
My stomach drops. “What? More than just the wedding?”
Vivi openly laughs at me. “Rich people love a party. Oh,” she says, perking up, “there’s a list of the clothing items you’ll need.” Distractedly, while I try to figure out how to set the lock combination on my new robot bags, I listen as she reads the list aloud: “Travel attire, four cocktail dresses, three day-party dresses, a rehearsal dinner gown, wedding guest gown, casual outfits for ten to twelve days, three to four bathing suits, shoes, undergarments, blah blah, upscale loungewear—”
I look up. “What’s ‘upscale loungewear’? Like, yoga pants?”
Vivi stares at me in concern. “No, sweetie. Like, cashmere robes and silk pajamas.”
“Cashmere on an island?”
“I’m pretty sure when you’re this rich you pay somebody else to sweat for you. Besides, I’m just describing the category. He probably means you should have a set of pajamas that perfectly complements your diamond necklace.”
“I don’t have a diamond necklace.”
She holds up an iconic turquoise box. “You do now.”
“Holy shit. Do I open it?”
“Seems the only way you’ll find out what’s inside. I could open it if you wa—”
“Give it to me.” I tug at the white satin ribbon and take off the lid. Inside is another turquoise box, this one velvet and hinged. Inside sits a diamond solitaire pendant on what I assume is a platinum chain. I can barely breathe. “Vivi. This cost him Baby Driver money.”
“I hate you so much right now,” she says. “Are you sure you never banged this guy?”
“I can’t wear that! What if I lose it? What if I’m robbed, or held for ransom?”
“Insurance,” she says. “These people insure everything.” While I continue to stare at the rock, she returns to the list and laughs. “Get this: ‘Anna, please feel free to schedule any hair, nails, spa, or grooming appointments and use the card to pay for those.’ ”
It takes a beat for one very specific word to land. “Grooming? Why is that separate from hair, nails, and spa?”
Vivi whistles and motions to my bikini area. “Rich ladies lack wrinkles, self-awareness, and body hair.”
“Oh God.”
Vivi already has her phone out. “I gotta google this guy now.” Three seconds later she’s scrolling wide-eyed through a browser full of Dr. William Westons. “I hope this is him because he is delicious.” She turns the screen to show me a faculty profile. It’s him. In the photo, he’s wearing a suit and tie and has all that luscious hair combed off his forehead. To my shock and delight, there’s something vaguely naughty in his gaze.
“Is West the hot professor?” I ask, taking her phone to look more closely. “Imagine his poor, slobbering students.”
“He’s got the Theo James down-to-fuck look but with those wild butterscotch eyes and a better hairline.” Vivi blows out a breath. “Jesus, Anna. Maybe you should bang him. Make the most of this trip.”
“Despite the vibe of these photos, I’m convinced the man himself only performs perfunctory missionary with his eyes closed.” I’m devastated that I can’t even banter about banging West. I’m starting to get overwhelmed again. I fall back on the couch. “There’s not enough time to prepare for this. I have three and a half days.”
Vivi sits down beside me and opens her Notes app. “Let’s make a plan. We need to shop for all these clothes. You need to get your hair colored, nails done, a pedicure, waxing above and below the hood, and a facial.”
“In three days?”
“Three days is plenty. It’s not like you have a job.”
I press the heels of my hands to my eyes. “I also have to go to Dad’s and let him know that I’ll be gone, pay the balance on his bills, and find someone to check in with him while I’m gone.”
“Me,” Vivi says. “I’ll do that. I also know that you suck at shopping, so I’ll take the list and do that in the next couple days. You just focus on your transformation into a billionaire’s wife.” She leans forward and hugs me. “This is going to be a disaster. I’m so excited!”
Six
LIAM
There are two kinds of airport people: those who like to get to the airport three hours before departure to sit within eyesight of the gate, and Anna Green.
Even though I sent a car to pick her up, even though I texted her a QR code to enter the Singapore Airlines lounge to relax before our flight, even though I warned her when I sent her boarding pass that the Bradley terminal at LAX is unpredictably chaotic, with only twenty minutes remaining until we board, I remain alone in the plush leather chair, nursing a strong Manhattan. I’m waffling between anxiety that she’s going to accidentally miss our flight, and anxiety that she is going to intentionally miss our flight. Fuck.