By the time I pulled into Lucas's driveway, my head was pounding.
I sat in the car for a moment with the engine off, hands still on the steering wheel, staring at nothing. The day felt too heavy to carry inside with me all at once. Signing that contract. Zane fucking some blondie in his office
Eventually, I got out.
The house lights were on. Warm. Familiar. The kind of place that usually made me feel safe. Tonight, it just felt like borrowed space.
I found Ivy in the living room, sprawled on the rug with her laptop open and fabric samples spread around her like she'd been in the middle of something important. She was in the fashion major so it was kind of her thing. She looked up the second she heard my keys drop.
"You're back," she said, relief flooding her face. "I was starting to think he kidnapped you."
"Not yet," I muttered, kicking off my shoes.
She sat up straighter. "Okay, that wasn't funny. How bad was it?"
I sank onto the couch and leaned my head back, staring at the ceiling. "There's a dinner tomorrow night."
Her eyes widened. "A dinner dinner? Like… family dinner?"
"Gala," I corrected. "Masked. Formal and Public."
Ivy groaned and flopped back onto the rug. "Of course it is. Of course the man can't do anything small."
I let out a breath that might've been a laugh. "Grandpa wants me there. With him."
She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow. "And you said yes."
It wasn't a question.
"I already signed," I said.
Her expression softened instantly. No judgment. No lecture. Just concern. She scooted closer to the couch and rested her chin on the cushion.
"Hey," she said quietly. "You don't have to do this alone."
"I know."
She studied me for a second, then her eyes lit up with something familiar. Purpose.
"Oh," she said, pushing herself to her feet. "Absolutely not."
I frowned. "What now?"
"You are not walking into your first public appearance with Zane Whitmore looking like you grabbed something off a clearance rack," she said, already heading toward the stairs. "You're about to make an entrance."
"I told him I'd handle it," I said. "I don't need….."
"You need me," she cut in, grinning. "And I live for this."
I followed her up the stairs, despite myself. "Ivy, I'm serious. I don't want this to turn into a whole thing."
She stopped at the top and turned to face me. "Elaine. I major in fashion. This is literally what I do. Let me help."
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
Her smile was instant. "Good. We have less than twenty-four hours."
She dragged me into her room, already pulling open her closet. Dresses lined the rack in every color imaginable, organized by length and fabric like a shrine.
"Masked gala," she mused. "So drama, but controlled. You want powerful, not desperate."
I sat on the edge of her bed, watching her move with ease, like this was the one thing in the world that made sense.
"For the record," she added, glancing over her shoulder, "you're going to look insane. In a good way."
I closed my eyes for a second.
For the first time all day, my chest loosened just a little.
"Thank you," I said.
She smiled softly. "Always."
And as she pulled dresses from the rack and held them up against me, talking fabric and cuts and colors, I let myself forget, just for a moment, who I was supposed to be tomorrow.
Just long enough to breathe.