“Keatyn, I know you already have a dress picked out, but let’s go through these and see if there’s anything that can top it.”
“Okay,” I say, even though I have no intention of changing what I’m wearing. I love my slinky gold gown.
I flip though the dresses, going through the motions to make her happy.
But then I come to a dress that looks familiar.
“Oh my god. It's my dress.”
“Your dress?” Kym asks.
“Yes, the dress from my dream.”
I examine the dress closer, shocked at how closely it matches the one from my dream.
Sweetheart neckline. Corseted bodice. Tiered bottom in an ombré of pinks.
I look at the label to see who designed it and find a note.
I thought on the night of your dreams, you should wear the dress of your dreams.
Hope this is close.
Happy Birthday!
Love,
Aiden
“How did he do it?” I ask Kym, quickly taking the dress off the hanger, holding it up to me, and twirling around.
“He told me about your dream. I called in a favor and this is what we came up with. Is it close?”
“It’s like the dress of my dreams on steroids. This corset and these feathers. They’re ridiculously beautiful. I can’t believe he remembered.”
As I spin around, I get tears in my eyes remembering how he went to all my rehearsals. How I trusted him enough to tell him my dreams. About my scripts. About wanting to act.
“Don't cry,” Kym scolds. “We don’t have time to redo your foundation.”
While I quickly change to a strapless bra and slip into the dress, Kym sets out diamonds.
“This thirteen carat pink diamond is surrounded by cushion-cut diamonds, adding another eight carats. Price available on request,” she reads off the card that arrived with them from Harry Winston. The diamonds have their own guard who will follow me tonight.
“All right,” Kym quizzes, “Diamonds by?”
“Harry Winston,” I reply.
“Shoes?”
“Louboutin.”
“Bag?”
“Fendi.”
“Favorite stylist?”
“Aiden,” I reply, teasing her.
“You say my name?” Aiden asks from behind me.
He’s dressed in a black Gucci tuxedo, a pair of Aviators perched on the top of his head. He looks like sex on a stick.
Seriously, no one is going to look at me.
Gracie and the girls are dressed up too. They’re having their own pretend red carpet with their new nanny, Miss Praline, who, with a little time and some luck, may just end up Mrs. Garrett Smith.
Aiden looks me over. “I don't know, Kym. I’m not sure those are the right shoes for the dress.”
Kym scoffs at him as he pulls a box out from behind his back.
It’s a box I recognize.
My eyes fill with tears as he opens the lid.
I delicately lift them up. “You had the heel fixed?!”
“Yeah,” he says, pulling me close. “Seems like the perfect night to wear the shoes that are the real you.”
He takes my hand, leads me over to a chair, then bends down and puts the shoe on my foot like he’s Prince Charming.
Actually, he is my Prince Charming.
Yesterday, on my actual birthday, he spoiled me rotten, giving me a gorgeous, not-for-a-rainy-day dress and taking me to a beautiful restaurant overlooking the ocean for dinner. I was shocked to find our families and closest friends waiting there to surprise me. It was a truly celebratory night.
Afterward, all dressed up, he took me to the Santa Monica pier for cotton candy and a ride on the Ferris wheel.
Gracie interrupts my thoughts. “Kiki, are you Cinderella tonight? Did Aye-den find your shoe?”
“Yes, he did.”
“No,” Avery says. “You can’t be Cinderella. She has a blue dress. Sleeping Beauty wears pink.”
“Alright. Chop. Chop. You two need to be in the car in thirty seconds,” Kym says, interrupting.
I take Aiden outside where Tommy's driver pulls up in a new beautiful white Maserati. It’s similar to the one Aiden crashed when he saved me, but with a few upgrades.
He tosses Aiden the keys. “Looks like you get to drive Cinderella to the ball.”
Aiden immediately notices the keychain. The one I gave him in St. Croix. And the one he gave me for luck when I left to find B.
“This is my keychain,” he states.
“Your car, your keychain,” I say with a shrug.
“My car?”
“Yep. It's a gift from Mom and Tommy. You know, for saving my life. It took a while to have it customized.”
Aiden walks around it. Then he looks under the hood and whistles.
I frown.
“Ah, Boots, what's the pout for?”
“How come I don't get a whistle when you look under my skirt?”
He gently shuts the hood and grins. Then he grabs me around the waist and kisses my neck.
“Because she won’t smack me,” he teases, gesturing toward the car.
Kym yells out the front door, “For god’s sake. Go! Or you're going to be late!”
“Mom said the red carpet always runs late.”
“Aren't we supposed to be in a limo?” Aiden asks.
“Yeah, probably, but Prince Charming rides a white horse to the ball. We can’t screw that up.”
He pulls me back into his arms. “You look beautiful tonight.”