I shrug. I’m too emotionally exhausted to make any kind of decision about my life, even if it’s nothing more than dinner plans.
“We’re free,” she says into the phone. “What’s up?”
For a moment, she’s silent. Cam is speaking quickly, but I can’t make out his words.
Joey’s jaw drops, and she blinks at me. “Wait, slow down. He found out what?”
He? Who? And what has he discovered?
“Damn, that’s wild. Is he okay?”
I’m at the edge of my seat. Literally. I haven’t the slightest idea what’s happening on the other end of that line, and I’m itching for the details.
“Okay, but what does that have to do with Millie?” More murmuring from Cam. Then my cousin turns and looks me dead in the eye. “How badly do you want that vacation?”
7
Millie
“JOSEFINENOABECKHAM,why the hell would you tell Cameron I’d come to dinner when Ezra will be there too?” I shoot off the couch and into my room, where I throw myself onto the bed. Yes, I’m being dramatic. I am an actor, after all.
My cousin follows me into my bedroom. “What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal?” I flop over onto my back. “Jo, I haven’t seen him since your engagement.”
“So?” She fists her hands on her hips, looming over me.
Pain lances my chest as I cover my face with both hands. “I was skinny then. Like NYC Pilates-toned skinny. And now I’m…this.”
“Oh, Millie.” Voice gentle, she sits on the bed next to me. “I can’t pretend to know how you feel, but you still look hot as fuck. And you’ve got to know that your worth has nothing to do with your clothing size.”
“I know,” I sigh. But emotionally…
“Listen.” She shakes my shoulder. “Thick thighs are in. Just lookat Reneé Rapp.”
I can’t help but laugh. Joey knows she’s my celebrity crush. The amusement fades quickly, though.
“What about the shit that went down with Sam? We were dating the same freaking girl. Don’t you think that’s weird?” With a groan, I throw my arm over my face. “Why do I even need to come to dinner?”
“You need to hear that from him in person.”
Interest piqued, I heave myself up. “At least help me find something to wear.”
Standing in the doorway of my walk-in closet, I scan my inventory. It might as well be a pop-up shop for Zara—I have jeans in every size under the sun.
Joey snags a cream-colored strappy top from the rack as I pick out a pair of ripped black skinny jeans, and once she shuffles out to the living room so I can change, I pull the top over my head. It only takes an instant to realize it’s too small.Dammit. Rather than trying to force it over my breasts, I retrace my steps to take it off. Only, as I do, it gets stuck.
Fuck. This is a sensory nightmare.
My mouth is covered by the fabric, causing a sense of panic to wash over me. Tight spaces like elevators or the subway during rush hour don’t bother me, but getting caught in my clothes sends my heart racing. It’s why I must sleep naked.
“Joey,” I call, my voice pitchy and trembling. “Help me.”
“Just breathe,” she says when she approaches me, her tone calm. “Don’t move. I’ve got this.”
I’m surprised she isn’t laughing like she did the time I begged her to cut me out of a shirt in a changing room when we were teenagers. I swore I’d be suffocated by polyester that day.
After what feels like an hour—though is probably closer to a minute—I’m freed from the shirt and am panting for air.
