When it ends, I drift to the manicure lounge where more velvet chairs are arranged across from each other in front of arched windows. At each station a steaming foot bath awaits dotted with rose petals. Marble tables display glossy bottles of polish in the same pale-rose shade and one glittering with translucent sparkles.
Sera and Soleil race to the sunlit chairs nearest the glass.
“I love the sparkles.” Soleil holds up the bottle.
“What would a princess wedding be without sparkles?” Marisol surveys them and smiles. “We’ll all get them so we match.”
I manage to stifle my groan. I’m not a glitter girl, but I’ll take one for the team.
Technicians in latex gloves trim our cuticles and shape nails at the same time our foot baths bubble.
Miranda leans back. “Princess wedding achieved?”
Marisol closes her eyes, face softening. “Finally.”
Lupe laughs. “You’ve been planning this since childhood.”
“That can’t be true.” Sera’s eyes widen.
“Oh, there’s a scrapbook,” Miranda teases.
Marisol groans. “Miranda, is nothing sacred?”
We all drift into chatter about wedding dresses and heel heights.
Eventually, Miranda instigates gossip hour. “What’s going on with Irving?”
Marisol snorts. “What’s not going on with him?”
“C’mon. He broke up with Hudson, they’d been together for nearly a decade,” Miranda says casually.
Lupe nods. “Good.”
Véronique tilts her head. “Hudson was the tall one, right?”
“Yes.” Marisol rolls her eyes. “Good riddance. He gave Irving an ultimatum. Move to London or break up.”
“Irving’s a big deal in Silicon Valley,” I add softly. “Hudson was always trying to marginalize his accomplishments.”
“Exactly,” Marisol sighs. “He tried a power play and Irving finally had enough.”
“Never works,” Lupe declares.
Soleil wrinkles her nose “He was annoying.”
“He was, and now he’s gone.” Marisol agrees.
“So… Let’s talk about Zach.” Miranda turns her gaze on me. I grip the armrest, willing indifference onto my face as I inadvertently replay how he made me come twice before I left this morning. “You probably know more about Zach than any of us.”
Marisol catches my eye. “Zachary Bennett, the man who cannot be tamed.”
Véronique tuts. “Is he still at it?”
“He’ll be a bachelor forever.” Marisol tilts her head. “If he’s not careful.”
“Why?” Sera asks.
“He can’t seem to hold onto anything that matters,” Marisol says flatly.
