“No.” He stares down at his brown boots. “That’s not it.”
She frowns. “So what’s wrong? I can’t change at this point. It’s too late.”
Not to mention all the hours Zoe spent getting her makeup perfect. She’s going as Cleopatra, period. Unless Joel has a damn good reason to tell her otherwise.
He lets out a long sigh, his eyes still pinned to the ground. “Nothing. Never mind.”
It’s obvious whatever is bothering him is far from nothing. She’s worried he’s lying and he thinks maybe the dress is too slutty. But it is what it is at this point.
By the time their Uber reaches the party, Cassie has worked herself up into a panic over her dress. She can’t believe she took fashion advice from a woman who apparently paints erotic artwork. This dress is a little too smoking hot. She’s not going to a college party. She’s going to be with a bunch of professionals a decade older than she is. Screw Cleopatra—she should have gone as a librarian. A non-sexy librarian.
Oh well, too late now.
It doesn’t help that Joel will barely look at her during the entire ride. In the elevator going up to Lydia and Pete’s apartment, she tries to hold his hand and he jerks away from her. She’s tempted to hike over to a clothing store and get something new.
But Joel would think she’s out of her mind if she did that. The dress isn’t that bad. And Lydia will like that Cassie took her costume advice. Maybe Lydia and Cassie will be new BFFs.
The smile on Lydia’s face when she throws open the door for the two of them almost convinces Cassie that the worry was all in her head. Unlike at the zoo, Lydia seems thrilled to see them.
“Joel!” Lydia grins at him. Then she flashes an even wider smile for Cassie. “Cassie! So glad you could make it.”
Lydia looks stunning in an ice-blue Elsa costume that compliments her pale skin tone and blond hair. It’s like she was made for that costume. Lydia—the ice queen. Lydia’s eyes flicker over Cassie’s dress, and she arches an eyebrow.
“Please come in,” Lydia says.
Joel practically shoves the bottle of wine he brought into her hands, then makes a beeline for the table with the alcoholic drinks. He pours himself a shot of something before Cassie has even crossed the threshold into the apartment, then downs it in one gulp. And then he pours himself a second.
What the hell?
Lydia tugs Cassie into the apartment. “Let me give you the grand tour,” she says.
Joel’s apartment is nice, but Lydia’s apartment is nothing short of spectacular. It’s big and airy with a balcony that gives a breathtaking view of the city skyline. Every piece of furniture is a beautiful antique, and Cassie wonders how Violet manages. But there are signs of the little girl all over the apartment, from the photos of her at every age displayed on nearly every surface to the entire bookshelf carefully organized with children’s books. And of course, there’s the giant dollhouse in the corner of the room that is close to the dimensions of Cassie’s bathroom. When she was a little girl, Cassie would have given her right arm to have that dollhouse—or that bookcase.
“This is a great apartment,” Cassie murmurs.
“Isn’t it though?” Lydia beams. “It was a steal. Only four million.”
Only four million? Jesus Christ.
Pete wanders over to them, swaying drunkenly on his feet. He’s dressed as somebody from Star Wars—maybe Obi Won Kenobi. When he catches sight of Cassie, his eyes widen much the same as Joel’s did. “Whoa,” he says. Then he laughs nervously.
Cassie isn’t sure what’s so damn funny, but she doesn’t want to be as rude as he’s being. “Hi, Pete,” she says.