“You ready for this?”

My heart thuds unevenly in my chest and I swallow hard, wiping my hands on the taffeta of my dress. I can hear the drone of voices as the limousine slides slowly through traffic, inching closer and closer to the wide steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The streets are lined with men in tuxes and women in couture gowns, photographers and gawkers clogging the sidewalks, just trying to get a glimpse of the red carpet. I’ve seen it all before, having attended openings at the museum a thousand times but not like this. Usually it’s Connie and I sipping champagne on the second floor, watching out the tall windows  as the celebrities and millionaires climb the red carpeted stairs, trying not to fall in their expensive evening wear while we laugh in our little black cocktail dresses we got on sale at some boutique in Williamsburg.

But tonight is different.

I’ve spent the past four hours getting ready, sitting in a large studio apartment on the lower east side where makeup artists airbrushed and shaped, powdered and lined, did all those things that are way too advanced for me to even contemplate much less attempt. Stylists brushed and sprayed my hair, curled and coiffed and shoved bobby pins so far into my scalp that I think I lost brain cells. I had been a little disgruntled as I stepped out of the building, wrestling the train of my dress out of the door when I found Justin standing on the curb next to the limousine, his eyes turned toward the street waiting. I’d been afforded a few seconds to admire him in his tuxedo, eyes traveling over the breadth of his shoulders and down to the tiny dip of his waist before his head turned towards me. His eyes widened behind his black frame glasses, his jaw going slightly slack and I’d shifted under his gaze, the rustle of my skirt deafening even over the street noise. Fire engine red is not a color I would have chosen on my own, usually opting for something a little more demure but once again Justin was right. His eyes travel from my toes peeking out of my strappy red heels, up the length of my calves exposed by the arching ruffled hem of my dress, over the dip of my waist, lingering on the princess neckline and up the column of my neck before his eyes meet mine and he smiles brilliantly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I return it somewhat shyly, reaching up to fiddle with the low chignon of curls pinned just below my right ear. I turn slightly, reaching behind me to pick up the train of my dress and my movement seemed to spark Justin, him rushing over to take my hand and help me down the three small steps to the sidewalk.

“Sky?” his voice breaks me from my reverie and I look over at him finding him gazing at me concernedly. His eyes search mine. “You don’t have to do this…”

“No!” I say forcing a smile. “No, I’m fine.”

It had been a big step for Justin to ask me to do this. He had always told me that business was business and he didn’t want me involved in the public aspect of his career if he could help it. These events were work for him, walking the red carpet was just part of the job and taking me with him would just excite the press. He didn’t want me exposed to that anymore than I had to be. He always said that when people in his line paraded around their relationships they were just asking for attention and he didn’t want it. “What we have is ours,” he told me once and who was I to argue? It never really bothered me that he went stag to these sort of things. He was usually home early, dragging his feet as he came through the front door, bitching about what a waste of an evening it was or if he was out late he usually always woke me up sliding in bed behind me, his body curling around mine as he placed a tender kiss on my shoulder before settling in. He always came home to me so what did I care if he didn’t invite me along?

But slowly over the past several months he’d been taking me with him. It had started with a small charity art auction I’d helped coordinate and he had been invited to and after that he’d slowly been taking me to smaller events without a lot of press and then bigger events where he would walk the red carpet and then meet me inside. So it wasn’t a huge shock when he’d asked me to be his date for the Costume Gala event he’d co-chaired. I’d expected it actually because it only made sense since I worked at the museum and knew a lot of the people that would be in attendance. But when he started talking about getting my makeup done and finding a dress I’d looked at him slightly confused. I’d always managed to dress myself every other time we’d gone out and he’d always seemed as if he liked the way I had looked. He must have read my face because he had been quick to explain that he was only offering because women had a tendency to take the red carpet a lot more seriously then he did.

I’d been floored but he’d merely ducked his head and moved on without explanation and I didn’t push the issue. With things involving his career it’s best to let them happen on his terms. He hadn’t told me why he changed his opinion. I assumed he’d tell me when he was ready and I waited patiently for his explanation as he taught me how to walk, advised me on keeping my body open to the cameras and provided tips for how to keep my eyes open under the assault of flashbulbs. But it never came and now sitting with him in the limo I realize that this feels like something much bigger than just walking next to him while people take our picture.

“I’m just nervous,” I confess sheepishly when the concern doesn’t leave his eyes and he smiles.

“You’ll do fine,” he says, craning his neck to look out the window, his face going pensive for a moment before it smoothes out as he turns to me. “You look…” His voice trails as he lets his eyes linger on me, scanning my face slowly and his eyes soften, sighing as if the air had been sucked from his lungs. “…beautiful.”

I blush deeply, fiddling with the hem of my dress as I feel his fingertips brush over my collarbone before his palm cups my shoulder warmly.

“I feel like a Can Can girl.”

Justin laughs heartily, his hand sliding down my arm. “You can can do whatever you want in that dress,” he quips and I giggle at him. “Seriously though Skylar,” he says his voice deep and sober and I peer up at him from under my lashes finding him gazing at me again, a look of slight awe covering his features. “You’re stunning.”

I smile, reaching up to touch his cheek and he turns his face into my palm, relishing my touch before he turns back to the window as we lurch forward slowly only to come to a stop again. That pensive look is back and I can’t help but feel like he’s nervous as well.

“Justin…” I ask as we inch closer to the red carpet and he hums his acknowledgement, watching as the couple two cars ahead of us climbs out and begin their ascent into the flashbulbs. “Why did you change your mind?” His head whips to me, looking at me slightly shocked and a little perplexed. I scramble for words. “I mean you’d always said that you didn’t want me to do these with you… I just…” I study his face closely but it reveals nothing, all nervousness gone. “Forget it,” I say quickly, looking away. I can’t stand it when he puts on his mask.

“I love you.”

The tenderness in his voice causes my eyes to meet his and he’s looking at me steadily now, his blue eyes bright, even though his jaw is slightly tense. He shifts awkwardly and his mask comes down, revealing nervousness and something else…shame? I don’t understand.

“I don’t wanna put you through this,” he says softly, his hand reaching for mine in my lap and they’re lost in the ruffles of my dress but I feel his fingers clasp mine tightly. “I never wanted you to… I mean… This isn’t the life you chose. Doing things like this isn’t something that’s required of you,” he sighs. “But I love you and I don’t care what anyone has to say about it. You’re beautiful and you don’t deserve to be snuck in the back door. I’m proud to be with you. And…” he sighs, a secret smile pulling at his lips, “we have nothing to hide.”

I grin despite the reddening of my cheeks at the invocation of our past. But I still don’t really understand. “Justin I never thought you were trying to hide me,” I say, wracking my brain for any time that I could have conveyed that to him on accident.

“I wasn’t,” he adds quickly and I open my mouth to speak but he continues. “And I know you don’t feel like I was but it was beginning to feel to me like I was.” He sighs. “I don’t let my career rule my personal life and when it starts to feel like it is is when I have to reevaluate,” he says with a shrug. “That’s why I changed my mind.”

“Okay,” I say softly, giving his hand a squeeze and he offers me a feeble smile that tells me he’s glad to have finally told me this and I return it warmly.

We’re one car back now but we still have a moment. His face is turned toward the window again, so he jumps when my hand comes up to slip his glasses from his face. He looks confused as he turns to me but he understands quickly enough as my hand finds his chest and I bring my lips to his, kissing him sweetly. He turns more fully towards me, cupping my face carefully to deepen it and I only pull back when a knock sounds on the tinted window, my breathing slightly labored.

Justin shakes his head slowly as if to clear it, taking his glasses back from me and sliding them up his nose before adjusting his tie. I lick my lips slowly, nervousness curling in my belly and I glance over at him, chuckling as I reach to smudge my thumb along his lips, wiping the residue of my lipstick. He chuckles, rubbing his mouth hard with the back of his wrist. His hand reaches for the door handle and he pauses to look back at me.

“You ready?” he asks, his eyes dancing with excitement, a small smile pulling at his lips.

“Yes,” I say giving his arm a squeeze. I’m ready for anything as long as he’s with me.