There was a knock on the door before it opened. Bea’s umma entered, armed with a small plate of sliced fruit and a watchful gaze.
“Something to eat,” she said in Korean to the girls, placing the plate on the desk. “Don’t drink on an empty stomach.”
Bea turned, smiling. “We won’t.”
“Have fun. But not too much,” Umma warned, and the door clicked shut again.
Bea exhaled, flopping onto the edge of the bed. “She forgets I’ve lived away from home most of this year. That I’m not sixteen anymore.”
She glanced at the dress hanging on the back of her closet door. It felt like power disguised as pretty—soft lace in deep red, almost bare shoulders, and an asymmetrical hemline that didn’t ask for permission.
Claire followed her gaze. “Is that the one?”
Bea scratched at the inside of her wrist. “I bought it for…something else.”
“For Gage?”
Bea nodded. “Before I came home.”
Claire propped herself up on one elbow. “So now it’s repurposed. Shame to waste it.”
“I don’t know. It feels like…too much?”
“For who?” Claire asked. “Logan?”
Bea looked at her sidelong, but didn’t reply.
Claire sat up fully, setting the glass down. “Look, if you’re dressing for Logan, then don’t wear it. But if you’re dressing because you want to feel like yourself—like Bea who walked into St. Ives and survived? Then go on and rock it. Let it remind you that you’re not here to make the past feel comfortable.”
Bea blinked. “That was unexpectedly deep.”
“I contain multitudes,” Claire said dryly.
That got a laugh.
Bea stood, tugged the dress from the hanger, and held it up. “Okay, but be honest, is it too much?”
Claire tilted her head, considering. “It’s just the right amount of ‘Don’t even try.’ Which, if I remember correctly, is what Logan needs to hear.”
Bea bit her lip. “He’s been texting. Calling.”
“I figured.”
“I haven’t responded. But he’ll be there tonight. And I need to say something. Before Gage finds out I didn’t shut it down.”
“Gage already knows. He’s just letting you decide when it’s going to become his problem.”
Bea’s eyes softened. “We talk. It’s not the same.”
Claire slowly packed her purse. “It won’t be. Not until you’re back in the same place. Until then, tonight’s just a beat between places. Say what you need to say to Logan. You’re not there to relive anything.”
Bea stepped into the dress. The deep-wine fabric hugged her waist, sharp at the bodice and soft where it flared. She smoothed it over her hips, wishing Gage were here to see her in it.
Claire watched her through the reflection, one eyebrow arched. “Anything else you need to download to your emotional support engineer before we go?”
Bea wrinkled her nose. “It’s going to sound stupid.”
“I was there when you thought Noah Centineo was profound,” Claire deadpanned. “Try me.”
