My phone buzzes. Amanda.
I don’t answer. Instead, I take another drink, forcing the bubbles past the knot in my throat.
Amanda is the only one who knows the truth—that I’m drowning. That I got laid off from my job right after I’d spent my savings to leave South Carolina and move up to Manhattan for a promotion that was supposed to catapult my career. That the Jaguar rental and the bougie hotel are a lie. That in less than a month, I won’t be drinking mimosas and pretending everything is okay. I’ll be back in my parents’ house, in the room I grew up in, trying to figure out where it all went wrong.
The phone vibrates again. I silence it and take another sip.
This is fine. Everything is fine. I have three weeks to figure it out. Three weeks to fake it till I make it.
The velvet curtain flutters open, and Elsie bursts in, holding a dress in front of her like it’s a sacred offering. “Um, it looks like there’s been a, uh, slight mix up with the sizing,” she stammers, clutching the fabric tighter. “It might fit a little differently than expected.”
I blink. “I sent in my measurements…”
“I know!” she says quickly, nodding too hard.“Totally my fault, probably. The system’s been glitchy and—” She bites her lip, hesitating. “Or it could be the dress. Sometimes they run…unforgiving.”
She doesn’t say it outright, but I hear the undercurrent: Maybe you’ve changed. Maybe you’ve gotten bigger.
And yeah—it stings a little.
Elsie’s chest once again flushes blotchy pink. “I didn’t mean—I just— Ugh, I’m so sorry. I can help you into it, I swear. I should have handled this better.”
I let out a slow breath, softening my expression. “It’s okay.” I take the dress from her, steady. “Seriously. Not a big deal.”
Her eyes dart to my waist, then back to my face. “Are you sure? I—I didn’t mean to offend—”
“You didn’t,” I say, more firmly this time. “Bodies change. Sizes change. That’s not something you need to tiptoe around like it’s contagious.”
She looks like she might cry, so I offer her a small smile. “I’ve got it from here.”
Biting her lip, she hangs the dress on a hook before scurrying out with a mumbled apology.
I take a breath, letting the air cool the flush creeping up my neck. I’m not ashamed of my body. But that doesn’t mean moments like this don’t still chip away at me, little by little.
I set down my drink and glance at the garment. Powder blue. An alarm bell goes off in the back of my mind. Wasn’t Mackenzie’s custom wedding gown also this color? I should remember, but getting fired after spending ten years working for the same company and thinking that there was a chance my life was finallyturning into something I wanted has really fucked with my brain power.
My phone vibrates again, and I know before picking it up that it’s Amanda and that I can’t keep ignoring her video calls. “You didn’t text when you landed, Gemma. I had to check your astrocartography map and pull three cards just to make sure your plane wasn’t going to crash. Do you know how unstable your Mars line is over the Southeast right now? It’s like cosmic turbulence.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means—” She shoves another bite of noodles into her mouth, talking around it. “I was this close to calling the airport and demanding your flight number so I could channel a bubble of protective energy around your whole plane to keep you safe. Instead, I settled for burning mugwort and drawing a protective rune in vegan eyeliner on my bathroom mirror. You’re welcome.”
“You are completely unhinged.” I try to laugh it off, but guilt prickles over my skin. I should have texted. I normally would have. Before I started floating in this panicked, directionless limbo. Before I started avoiding Amanda because she actually sees me.
I bit the tip of my nail, watching the candle flames dance. “I was going to. I just—”
“You didn’t want to talk to me.”
“That’s not true.”
She tilts her chin.
“Okay. It’s kind of true.” I exhale, rubbing my forehead. “I just…didn’t know what to say.”
“Gemma…” It’s not an accusation. It’s not even pity. It’s just…knowing. And that makes my stomach hurt.
My vision blurs. My chest tightens. I’m not crying.I refuse to cry. Wiping at my eyes, I turn away from the phone and reach for the dress, needing something physical to focus on.
Amanda, mercifully, lets it go.
