Chapter 7: All dressed up

Jenny

"I cannot fucking believe you talked me into a damn tuxedo, Jenny."

I hear Nico's voice in the hallway, and I cringe. I hoped that by tonight, he would've gotten over his pissy attitude about this whole ball deal, but apparently, those hopes were in vain. He isn't going to go gently into this good night.

I had nearly forgotten about the St. Agnes Oncology Wing Benefit Ball in all of the upheaval over Nico's unexpected return to Florida. And then about five days ago, Mira handed me an envelope that held a thick invitation made of ivory card stock, adding with a smile that she was pleased to hear that my someone special would be able to escort me after all.

I spent the rest of that day worrying about what Nico was going to say when I told him this, uh, 'good news.' He wasn't in the best of moods these days lately anyway, since he hadn't had any luck yet in his job search. Sweet-talking him into putting on a monkey suit so he could pretend to be in love with me for several hours on a Saturday night wasn't going to be easy.

That was why I had stopped at the grocery store on my way home to pick up all of the ingredients for chicken parmesan, which I happened to remember was Nico's favorite homemade dish. Cooking for a chef was a little scary, but since I had my mother's recipe-which was what Nico had loved to eat at our house-I was fairly confident it would do the trick.

And it had. When he walked into the house after his run and wandered into the kitchen, his eyes lit up.

"Don't even tell me that's Mama Ward's chicken parm." He stood across the island from me, sweat glistening on his burnished skin as his chest rose and fell quickly. "What did you do, Jen? Did you break something? Spill something? Burn something down?"

"Oh, ha, ha, ha." I used the tongs to move the fried chicken cutlet from a plate into the casserole dish. "I haven't done anything at all. Go ahead, take a tour of the house and check everything out." I huffed a little and muttered under my breath. "Geez, just because a girl cooks a nice dinner, everyone thinks she's trying to make up for something."

"I'm still not convinced." Nico reached behind him, grasped the neck of his T-shirt and pulled it off over his head. I nearly dropped the next piece of chicken. Holy mother of sweat god goodness. "Are you sure you're not trying to put me into a good mood for something?"

I couldn't lie to him, not when he asked me directly. "I didn't say that. I just said that I didn't already do anything that might make you mad." I paused, concentrating on ladling my homemade red gravy over the chicken.

"Okay. So what is it?" His tone was cautious. "Is this some fun new part of being your pretend boyfriend?"

I winced. "Um . . . kind of." Carefully, I laid slices of fresh mozzarella over the chicken and gravy and then slid the whole thing into the oven.

"Just tell me what's going." Nico unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and tipped it back over his mouth. He sounded resigned to his fate.

I took a deep breath. "There's a big, fancy-dress ball Saturday night to benefit the hospital, and I'm expected to be there."

"Okay. . ."

"And because they all think we're dating, you're expected to be there, too."

"Aw, Jen." Nico threw his head back. "For real? Can't you tell them I have to be out of town this weekend?"

"Ah . . ." I hesitated. "I didn't think of that. I guess I could do it. I mean, what are they going to do? How would they know?" I should have been relieved by this escape hatch, but I found myself oddly disappointed.

"Okay. Problem solved. Can I still eat the chicken farm?"

I managed a smile. "Sure. Who else would enjoy it like you do?"

"Good point." He finished the water and chucked the empty into the recycle can. "Do I have time to grab a shower before dinner is ready?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

I waited until he was safely in the bedroom before I let my shoulders droop. It wasn't that big a deal. I'd go to the ball, I'd put in an appearance, and then I'd come home. The real point of all of this was that Nico was being cool enough to let me pretend we were dating, just to save face. I had to focus on that and forget my fantasies that he might one day believe the lie.

When he came out of the bathroom in a clean T-shirt, khaki shorts and damp hair, I had dinner on the table.

"Jenny, this is delicious." Nico twirled pasta around his fork and speared a bite of chicken. "Seriously. Don't tell your mom, but yours might be even better than hers."

"Thanks." I dragged my fork through the cheese. "I'm glad you're enjoying it."

We were both quiet for a few minutes. I had just picked up my wine glass when Nico exhaled.

"This ball thing . . . it's a pretty big deal, huh? All of the people who work with you are going?"

I nodded. "I guess so. They've been going on and on about it since I started working there."

"Ah." He took another huge bite, chewed and swallowed. "Okay. I'll go with you."

I frowned, glancing up at him. "What?"

"I said I'll go with you. I assume I'll have to wear a tux? Or is a suit good enough?"

"Uh . . . a tux, I think, but-Nico, are you sure about this? You know you don't have to. It's totally not a big deal. I can handle it on my own."

"But why should you?" He wiped his mouth with a napkin and slid back from the table. "I mean, it's one night. I might even meet someone who could be a lead to a job, right? And hey, it could be fun."

"Nico, I know I've said this way too many times in the past month or so, but I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you for this."

He winked at me. "Weekly chicken parmesan is a good start."

And that brings us to tonight. I'm standing in my room in front of my mirror, staring at myself, hoping like hell that the deep emerald green strapless dress that fits me like a glove is enough to make Nico proud to be with me at this big fancy party.

"Hey, you almost ready? We should get going."

"Yeah. Be right there." I pick up my tiny silver purse that matches my sparkly silver shoes, take a deep breath and walk out of my room.

Nico is standing at the end of the hallway in the foyer, frowning down at the screen of his phone. When he hears the click of my heels on the tiled floor, he glances up, distracted, and then does a double take.

The expression on his face is what I have wished and hoped to see for the past, oh, decade or so. His eyes are huge as they travel down my body and over my legs. His mouth hangs open slightly, and even as I watch, the tip of his tongue darts out to run over his lips.

"Jenny," he breathes, and for a long moment, I'm almost afraid to move and break the spell.

Also, just in point of fact, seeing this man rock a tuxedo is the stuff of fantasies. He looks like James Bond-only about a hundred times better. So you better believe that I'm staring right back at him. I can't quite fathom that he's going to be my date tonight.

I'm afraid if I don't say something, I might throw myself at him, literally. So I smile and take a step forward, spreading out my arms.

"I look okay?"

"God, you are so far beyond okay that it's not even in the rearview mirror." He moves toward me and reaches to touch my arm. "You're gorgeous, babe. Just . . . holy fuck."

I can feel my face heat up, and I'm sure my cheeks are red. "Nico. I'm not-I mean, I don't-"

"Jenny, when you look like that and a guy pays you a compliment, you say thank you, and you own it. Because I'm not just being nice. I'm not blowing smoke up your-dress." He winks at me. "You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, and I am so lucky to be your pretend boyfriend. Oh, and your very real date tonight, too."

I inhale and smile. "Thank you, Nico. You look amazing, too."

"I guess we should probably leave now." But he doesn't move. I watch as he glances over my shoulder and down the hall to my bedroom, and for one insane, heady second, I think maybe he's going to suggest we ditch the ball and stay here to get out of these fancy clothes instead.

But he doesn't. He offers me his hand, and when I take it, letting his warm, strong fingers close around mine, he leads me to the door and out into the night.

"Come on, Cinderella. Time for you to climb into your pumpkin coach and make your grand entrance at the ball."