I set the list down. “All of what?”
She waved at the packages piled up beside my bed but shook her head and said, “Everything with Teddy and now this thing with Ryan. I’ve been distant and scattered and self-centered, and you’ve been getting semi-engaged all on your own. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said, and I meant that. In truth, she had been distant and scattered. But she’d also threatened, with no amount of hyperbole, to call off her wedding if it saved me from some discomfort. It would’ve made me responsible for the future of her marriage and that was a pretty huge burden to put all on my shoulders, but I knew she cared. “You can keep talking about how much you love me and all the reasons you hate living with a boy but I’m going to try this on for you because I’m worried it makes me look like a muffin.”
“He starts projects and then—I don’t know, he just forgets about them,” she called as I undressed in the closet. “I amnotgoing to micromanage his tasks but I’ve thought about putting him on a sticker chart.”
“Not to infantilize your fiancé or anything but he’d probably like that,” I said, fighting my way through this dress to find daylight. “Also, let’s introduce him to Ines. Maybe they’ll finish each other’s projects.”
“I like my oven too much to risk that,” she said.
I emerged from the closet, a hand at the back of my neck to keep the dress’s halter ties in place. “What’s the verdict? Am I a muffin?”
“Not a muffin,” she said, frowning at the short pink dress with a very full, ruffly skirt. “But some kind of pastry. I want to say cream puff but I’m not sure that’s accurate.”
I fluffed the skirt. “That’s all I needed to know. It’s okay. This was just a backup option.”
As I returned this dress to the garment bag, Grace called, “You’re kind of famous now. I’m not sure I like that.”
“Because you’re worried I’m going to forget my humble roots? Hate to break it to you but hiking up five flights of stairs to my pastrami-scented apartment every day pretty much guarantees it’ll never slip my mind.”
“Because people know who you are now,” she said. “People can be weird and creepy.”
That was true. Nothing weird or creepy had happened but I didn’t feel quite so anonymous in the world anymore. I told myself it was mostly in my head but then someone would stare at me a beat too long at the grocery store and I’d question everything.
Before leaving town, Ryan had insisted on having Bowen drive me to and from school. Something about public transportation having “too many variables.” I didn’t argue with him. Who wouldn’t prefer door-to-door service over crowded subway lines with constant delays and breakdowns? Even better, Bowen always had coffeeanda smoothie waiting for me. A prince among men, that Bowen.
Or perhaps his boss was the real prince.
Grace continued, “I don’t want your life to become social media fodder.”
I returned to the room, presenting another dress for inspection. As I turned in a circle, I said, “I don’t think it will go that far.”
“Which part? The internet’s interest in you”—she adjusted the dress’s straps and then nodded her approval—“or the marriage?”
I went back to the closet instead of answering the question.
I leftfor the private airstrip outside the city immediately after school on Friday. Ryan was flying in from somewhere—I’d lost track of all the cities and time zones—and we were traveling to Louisville on his plane together.
I wasn’t sure what his meetings were about but I knew from the minute I saw him jogging down the plane’s stairs that he was pissed. His jaw looked like it was going to snap at any minute.
But then he closed the distance between us, wrapped one arm around my waist and brushed his free hand through my hair, saying, “I like it.”
It took me a minute of blinking at him while he studied the black cherry strands tucked over my ear to figure out what he meant. “Oh! Yeah? Really? I wasn’t sure?—”
“Yes,” he growled.
I stared up at him as my belly flipped over. Heat spilled over my shoulders and down my spine. I could feel the warmth flooding my face. “I thought about changing it back.”
“Don’t,” he said, skimming his fingers through my hair, over my cheeks. “Don’t change it. Unless you’re not happy. But I think it’s gorgeous.”
My face was definitely red now.
I knew I had to stop reacting to Ryan this way. It wouldn’t do me any good and I ended up looking like I’d put my blush on in the dark. He was a secretly sweet guy who’d always said breathtakingly sweet things to me, and I couldn’t let myself choke on all that sugar.
We boarded the plane, a sleek eight-seater with plush carpet and glossy wood paneling. The captain’s chair seats were arranged in quartets and appointed in smooth, sumptuous leather. The bathroom was nicer than the one in my apartment—by a lot—and there was a cozy kitchenette where a pant-suited flight attendant offered me freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, a chicken Caesar salad, or salmon en croûte.
“Mrs. Ralston would prefer the tangerines I ordered,” Ryan called from behind me. “Give her the whole bowl.”
