To fix my makeup

Eva

O

ne year later.

Jonathan and I are sitting in the back of a long limousine and I’m doing my best to get comfortable. Jonathan, who’s watching me hungrily, grins.

“You’re going to have to stop fidgeting or I won’t be able to concentrate.”

I look up at him in his tuxedo. He’s incredibly handsome and dashing, as always.

“I’m not used to wearing dresses like this,” I say crankily, tugging at the stiff satin fabric. After all, the stylists Raisa hired to get us ready for Jonathan’s movie premiere put me in a red and black mermaid style dress with a tight corseted top. The gown is beautiful and I have to admit, when I was looking at myself in the mirror, I was astonished. My curvy figure looks amazing in this outfit. It’s sexy without being over the top at once. Jonathan nearly had a heart attack when I walked down the stairs of our hotel.

Plus, my hair is loose and swept to one side, my curls held in place by a red flowered comb. Jonathan has been slowly brushing my bare shoulders wit