Free Crushed (Crystal Brook Billionaires) by Jessica Blake Page B

I’ll go. I just don’t want to give Owen the wrong impression.”
    “From what you told me, I don’t think he’ll get the wrong idea. He knows what’s going on in your life.”
    “He could know my social security number, for all I know. I don’t know just how much Gwen told him.”
    “Your sister knows your social security number?”
    I shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past her to have memorized our whole family’s social security numbers. She can be like that.”
    “So you’re going?”
    “Okay. Yes… I guess.”
    Radha sighed. “I’ll go for you.”
    “He invited me, remember?”
    “Whatever. Get me a blonde wig and, boom! I’m good to go. I can pretend to be you, just so long as no one asks me how the housing market is currently doing in Tahiti or wherever.”
    “I don’t have a dress.”
    “So get one.”
    “You of all people know it’s not that simple.”
    She switched the cross of her ankles, kicking her bright blue heels into the air as she did so. “I take that to mean you’re acknowledging how stylish I am.”
    “Of course.”
    “In that, I’m the perfect person to tell you this isn’t as dire a situation as you think it is.”
    “Most of the people there will have designer outfits made specifically for them, Radha. I can’t just go down to Macy’s and pick up some dinky little cocktail dress.”
    “We’ll make one.”
    I laughed. “I know you can design something amazing, but since when do either one of us actually sew?”
    “We’ll figure that detail out. We’ll reconstruct something. Listen, okay?” She excitedly waved her hands around. “The theme this year is Myth and Magic.”
    “How do you know that?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Half of New York knows that.”
    “Soooo… I go as a fairy?”
    “Not quite. Usually, people wear outfits that hint at the theme. It’s not an all out costume soiree or anything. Some people don’t even go with the theme. They just wear something Armani or Vera Wang made specifically for them.”
    “Hm. Okay. I don’t think I’ll be doing that.”
    “That’s why we’re going with the theme. And with this year’s theme, we’ve got a lot to work with. All of human history, actually, since every culture has had its myths. Really, this is the best year you could get invited to.”
    “Thanks… I guess.”
    “I have this vintage cocktail dress that we can start with.”
    “That gold one?”
    “Yep.” She nodded with satisfaction.
    “Radha, no.”
    “What?”
    “That dress is practically an antique. I can’t let you ruin it.”
    Her lips pursed. “It’s for a good cause. And we won’t ruin it. We’ll make it better.”
    “What do you have in mind?”
    “We could go with the Grecian theme. It’s floor length, kind of like something the statues wear.”
    I cringed away. “I won’t have to show one boob like a statue, will I?”
    She laughed, pressing her hand against her lips. When the chuckles subsided, she peered at me with interest. “That’s the best joke you’ve made since…”
    She trailed off. Dust collected in my throat. I wanted to talk even less than she apparently did.
    “Yeah,” I told the floor.
    Her voice came out small. “It’s a good sign.”
    “That I’m moving on?” The question came out so bitter that it shamed me. I didn’t want to be snarky. I guess I was though.
    “Yeah,” she said, her voice timid.
    I didn’t want to move on.
    I wanted to go back. Back in time. Back to Peter’s living room. Back to his cool, smooth leather couch. Back to the stupid and meaningless coaster. Back to the glass of water he always put there for me. Back to his strong, warm arms.
    Fuck this stupid world.
    A long silence stretched on. Radha finally broke it by standing up. “Let’s go to my place now and get started.”
    I hesitated, but didn’t know what to say.
    Radha gazed down at me, her hands on her hips. “What else are you going to do?”
    I shrugged. “Sit here and cry.”
    She reached a hand