“Baby blue. The perfect event deserves the perfect dress, just like the perfect man deserves the perfect girl,” Gina argues with Wynn.

“I’m not perfect, but I want to look perfect tonight,” I tell them both.

“Your billionaire just struck gold with you tonight, you look like a million bucks—well invested and soon to yield.”

“Wynn!” I laugh.

“I still don’t get why you didn’t just bring him up to your room yesterday and let him stake a physical claim on you.”

“Because . . . we haven’t been together in a month.”

“Exactly why you shouldn’t have talked at all! What’s there to talk about? He wants you, you want him.”

I rummage through my earrings for a pair of small silver studs that bring out the gray in my eyes. “He . . . well, we’ve gone over it, I’ve told you two.”

“No, you haven’t. You get red and that’s it. You can’t talk about him without spacing out . . .”

I groan. My friends, Gina and Wynn, they want to know that I’m going to be all right.

“He read my article,” I say.

They’re looking impatient, their faces alive with anticipation. And I’m remembering. I feel his hands cup my face again. I feel his eyes on me again. His lips so close, and so far away. And suddenly . . . on the very edge of my lips. I look down at the palm of my hand, the invisible Dibs that unfortunately washed off after a week of showers.

“He asked me to go out with him tonight.”

Gina opened one of my wines and when she comes back with three foam cups, I tell myself—please don’t ever let Sin see we’re drinking this wine in foam cups. “Publicly?” she asks, handing a cup to each of us.

“Finally?” Wynn asks, taking a sip.

Setting mine aside, I nod as the butterflies fly fly fly in me. Still hidden in my closet is his shirt. I pulled it out of hiding last night—a shirt that brings back every memory—then I quickly stripped and slipped my arms into the sleeves, buttoning it up.

And that’s how I slept.

It felt like hot, sheet-clawing sex on my skin. I lay in bed, my hormones all crazed, telling myself that I’m not going to do anything sexy until he does it to me.

“And I said yes. And he told me to get a dress.”

He’d said it low but casual, as if it were the most natural thing for him to do for me, in his voice that never fails to get to me. Then I refrain from telling them the rest; that he marked my hand with a pen . . . and I went to my bed, and called my mother in the darkness, and told her . . . and unexpectedly, burst out crying from the happiness when I heard her voice.

“We’re doing this black tie thing and if it’s the last thing I do, I want to look incredible tonight,” I admit, looking at myself in the mirror above my vanity.

I haven’t looked this happy in a while—but I haven’t felt this happy in my life.

“This dress does the trick. The side slit is perfect, the strapless bare shoulders, the way it goes all the way down to your toes. You want to say: you know I’m naughty deep down but it’s only for you,” Wynn says.

“Oh please, like he’s not naughtier than anything we’ve ever known,” Gina groans.

I laugh. My cheeks flare red as I think about him and wonder if he’s as desperate to be with me as I am with him.

“But did he read your article? Something in it must’ve done something to him.”

Wynn brings out the copy of the magazine I have hidden under my bed, mainly because it has a picture of him, and taps on the last sentence. “This part: I’d leap blindly into the air if only there were even a 0.01 percent chance that he’d still be there, waiting to catch me.”

“Wynn. You two. Help me get ready!”

They turn on the music and with “Sugar” by Maroon 5 playing, I keep prettying up for him, repeatedly brushing my hair until it falls down my back, as lustrous as glass.

For weeks, I’ve been alone, staring at my laptop, hearing its low hum. It’s quiet for the night, the reporter tucked away. Now, the one humming is me. I’m wearing a dress fit for a princess. Now my friends are fussing around me, pulling out matching bags and shoes.

Gina is being especially helpful. Gina, who’s been concerned about me getting my heart broken. “Now you’re all eager for me to hook up with the same guy you wanted me to stay away from? You’re Team Saint now?” I tease her.

She pauses. “I’m Team what makes you happy. And . . . well, from what Tahoe told me, yes.”

I roll my eyes. “You believe that man?”

“He loves Saint as much as I love you!” she says. “He didn’t enjoy your breakup any more than I enjoyed watching you mope. He said . . .”

“What?” I ask, my full attention on her.

“He thinks Saint is really into you because usually people only fuck up with him once,” she specifies.

Wynn scowls. “What else did he say? If you’re going to be talking to him then you must tell us when you talk about Rache.”

“I only talked to him yesterday, and he said, and I quote, ‘Saint’s really into your best friend. Never seen him like this—ever.’ ”

I never thought my sexy parts could blush but they’ve been blushing every time I think of him.

“What does Momma Rachel say? Does she know?” asks Wynn.

“Mother?” I laugh. Her name is Kelly, not Rachel, but the girls call her Mom or Momma Rachel.

“She wants to meet him. She’s excited that he came over. But I don’t want to pressure him right now, my momma will have to wait until we see where this is going.”

“Okay, let’s get real here though. Are you planning to sleep with him?”

“YES! Dude, YES, I PLAN TO SLEEP WITH HIM. I’M DYING TO!” I say, laughing with pure giddy anticipation.

“The car’s downstairs!” calls Wynn from the window, then she goes to the kitchen to ring him up, and peers into my room. “He’s coming up.”

“Okay.” Inhaling sharply at the news, I hurry to finish strapping up my shoes and get a sheer blue shawl from a closet.

“Hey, Rache,” Gina says, grabbing my hand. She looks at me and squeezes. “I’m happy for you, it’s been breaking my heart. Because I do have one, you know? Paul didn’t take it all, only the men’s part. But the girl’s part is yours and Wynn’s.” She looks a little emotional, her eyes glistening a little. “You know I don’t believe in love. But I believe in second chances, and this is yours, Rache. And you know, I kind of admire his persistence. He really seems set on getting you.”