For the curtain next to me to whip open, and scream like a pig when my sister’s glare spears the truth out of me.
“That’s nice. Where’s Indie? I haven’t heard from he; is she still with Saint in England?”
I’ve skipped stage one of cardiac arrest; my chest is so tight I’m definitely on stage three. I might need fucking CPR.
“Yeah, she is. I flew back a week early so I could spend Brian’s birthday with him.”
My clammy hand flattens against the cool wall of the fitting room, steadying myself as I listen to their conversation. It’s not that it’s a big deal that I’d be back with Saint; it’s just the lies I’d need to keep up with to her, and she’d tell Mom I was home.
She’d be upset with me that I didn’t go visit after. Time is needed for me to spin out the lavish story I’d need, plus a fucking Broadway rehearsal, seeing as I haven’t stepped foot in that country before.
There’s a beat of silence before Louisa responds, “Well I have to go; I have a meeting. If you hear from my sister, tell her to give me a call when she can. I need to speak with her.”
I hear the heels clacking further away down the store, and the curtain to the cubicle flies open, my hand slapping to my mouth to muffle my scream.
“Tell me you heard that?” Regina says, her voice shaky as she battles for a breath.
Deciding to abandon my other options for sizing, I stuff my limbs back into my own clothes.
“Every word. You did good. I’m proud.” I smile at her, gathering up the dresses from the hangers.
I have no idea why Louisa wants to speak with me; she hasn’t called or texted me.
That’s a family issue I can postpone for a couple days, and I take a mental note to send my mom a check-in text.
“I was shitting my pants…and I said Dawson was my fucking boyfriend!” She squeaks the last word, looking over her shoulder before her gaze lands back on me.
I snort, bending over to put the heels back in the box. “I think you like him.”
Before I can blink, my head bumps into the mirror, Regina now squeezing in the fitting room with me as she slaps the curtain shut.
“Okay, I haven’t said anything, but…” She trails off as I rise up, biting her thumbnail as she looks at me worriedly.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask, my hands cupping her arms, my spine steeling in case my profiling of him was way off the radar.
She blows out a breath. “Well, we…kind of kissed?”
“Gina!”
Her hand slaps over my mouth. “Shh! He’s like ten feet away, you damn foghorn,” she hisses and battles a smile at the same time.
I drag her hand away from my mouth. “I knew you liked him.”
My smile is beaming right now; this is huge for her. I force myself to relax, stepping out of defence mode from going out there and putting him on his ass.
“I’m happy for you, Gina.” I pull her in for a hug, and she grips me back.
“Thanks, Indigo. We just click, you know? I don’t know if he feels the same. Maybe he was just bored spending all his time in The Pit. Or maybe—”
It’s my turn to clap my hand over her mouth. “No, we’re not going to do that, and you know why? Because we deserve to be happy and not fucking question it when it comes to us.”
I pull my hand back, dipping my chin when I glare at her.
“You’re right. He seems to be happy taking it slow. I…kinda opened up to him about everything.” She nervously hikes a shoulder, rubbing her arm with her hand. “He listened and didn’t pressure me into anything. It was actually me who kissed him.”
There’s a blush on her cheeks, and my heart swells watching her, and I tell her, “He seems like a good guy. Saint wouldn’t have anyone with him who wasn’t. They might all be a tad unhinged in their own ways, but we’re not all perfect, are we?”
She reaches down, picking up my shoe box. “That’s true, and it doesn’t scare me, seeing as the best friend I’ve spent my entire life with likes that as a hobby. Those guys are kittens compared to my girl.” She pinches my cheek, and the two of us cackle.
