“That seems really unnecessary.” Yoga was bad enough.
“I’m sending you and Markus fully prepared for a beach vacation. Rich people don’t show up to a resort with one swimsuit theybought fifteen years ago.” He looked at Gabby skeptically. “Unless you have a nice suit?”
Gabby hadn’t put on a swimsuit since Lucas’s last mommy and me swimming lesson. Getting herself and a toddler in and out of swimwear in a damp YMCA locker room had been her version of hell. When he’d graduated to big boy swim lessons, she’d retired her swimsuit. It was in the bottom of a drawer somewhere.
“I don’t have a beach body, Dante.”
“Gabby, that’s enough. There is no such thing as a beach body. If your body is on the beach, it’s a beach body.”
“You know what I mean. No one wants to see me in a swimsuit.”
Gabby shook her head in abject terror as Dante brought out a few swimsuits. She actually shouted, “A TWO-PIECE? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Tina, get the CBD oil, and maybe some restraints.” With a stern look, Dante said, “I need to know if these fit. I can’t have you showing up to the Azores and finding out that your suit is too small.” He angled a gaze at her. “You looking good is my responsibility.” He handed her a couple of suits. “I’m a stylist. I know what looks good and what doesn’t.”
She could do this. She’d birthed two children. She’d survived ten years of parent pickup. She could wear a swimsuit.
Calmly, her mind somewhere else, she stepped out of her clothes and put her feet in the swimsuit, one at a time.
When she stepped out of the room, Dante looked up. “See? You look great.”
“Really?”
“Beautiful.”
He sucked air through his teeth. “After I finish with you, I’m making one more appointment.”
“For what?”
“You need to get waxed.”
Gabby groaned. Markus was already done and had been for about an hour. “Does Markus have to get waxed?”
“You know the answer to that,” he said. “This is the world we live in.”
“Also, where am I going to hide my gun?”
“No body hair. No pockets. Them’s the rules.”
Gabby hung her head. To prevent international terrorism and protect the nation, she needed a wax. National security was riding on her bikini line.
At the end of the day, Gabby was a mix of relaxed, pampered, hairless, and completely freaked out. She had a suitcase professionally packed by the CIA, a huge file of backstory to memorize, and a beach bag filled with spy gadgets handed over with the comment, “Everything in there is self-explanatory.”
Inside the house, it was remarkably calm. Kyle was doing her homework at the kitchen table. Lucas was doing Legos. The TV was on. There was no yelling.
When she stepped into the kitchen, Kyle looked up with surprise. “Whoa, Mom, what happened to you today?”
The day had been so chaotic that she’d almost forgotten about her makeover. She brushed her hand through her freshly styled hair. “Oh, I had a hair appointment.”
Kyle narrowed her eyes with suspicion. “And a manicure. And someone did your makeup?”
“Do you like it?”
Kyle gave a single nod. “Is this a dating thing? River’s mom got a makeover when she started dating.”
“No! Of course not, sweetie.”
Kyle released a breath.
