The steakhouse had valet parking and a chandelier in the entrance. Charlotte's choice, obviously.
I tugged at my black sheath dress, suddenly aware of every loose thread. It was the nicest thing I owned, but standing in this marble lobby, it felt like something I'd grabbed off a clearance rack.
Which I had.
"You look beautiful," Jackson murmured.
"You're required to say that."
"Doesn't make it less true."
The hostess led us to a table by the window. White tablecloth. Candles. Wine glasses that probably cost more than my monthly grocery budget.
Charlotte was already there.
She stood as we approached, and I felt my stomach drop. She was stunning. Blonde hair in perfect waves. A cream silk blouse that screamed expensive. Heels that added three inches to legs that didn't need the help.
