Page 17 of Brazen Mistakes

I roll off the couch, grateful RJ isn’t making a big deal about my anxiety, and inch to the door, not wanting to be weak. Because I’m not.

I’ve just had a bit of a setback. And a new photo-delivering creep to watch out for. It’s nothing I can’t handle. Should I say something about the card?

No. Not yet. Later. There are still hours of Christmas left. I’m not going to ruin it.

A small box waits at the top of the steps, and I rush across the bitter wood, wishing I’d stopped to put on shoes before coming out to grab it. I’m back inside before the door bangs shut. “Cold,” I say, as RJ waits for me to get the box open.

“Itiswinter.”

“How did you even get this delivered on Christmas?”

“I paid extra. Now open it. I want to see what you think.”

Propping up the phone on the windowsill of Jansen’s meditation space, I plop down on a pillow pile, the box in my lap. I wrench it open to find a tiny black garment box inside. Pulling that out, I kick the cardboard into the front hall. I glance up at the screen. “Did you buy me clothes?”

RJ’s smile sticks, but I can see how nervous he is. What’s in this box?

“No, not quite clothes.”

With a deep breath, I open the black box, only to find black and gold tissue paper wrapped around the light bundle inside. I peel that back, and find the softest, silkiest, deepest plum slip, delicate lace lining the straps and bodice.

“RJ.”

He clears his throat. “I wasn’t sure I wasn’t overstepping. If you don’t like it, or if it’s weird, I can totally return it. I just, well, this is what I was imagining, you know, yesterday? And once it was in my head, I had to find it. But yeah. You don’t need to keep it.”

The material is cool against my palms. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s passable. You’re what’s beautiful, Clara.”

My heart skips a beat. I spread the material out across my lap, looking up at him. “I wish you were here.”

“Just a few more days.”

“Would you like a fashion show?”

A strangled laugh escapes him. “God yes. But unfortunately, I snuck away to give you this. I’ve already been gone long enough that I’m sure someone will come find me any second.”

“So, rain check?”

“Definitely.”

I crawl to the phone, wanting to be closer to RJ, even if it’s only a video of him. “Thank you, RJ.”

“Of course, sugar.”

Chapter 7

Clara

I’m in my bed, phone in hand, counting down the minutes until Walker and Trips come home when I get a text from my mom.

Your father’s crying.

The stupid tears I thought I’d banished from my repertoire well up in my eyes, making the words wobbly and hard to read. My phone buzzes again, and I know my mom has ended her silence.

You did this. Your selfishness has your father weeping into hispillow.

After all we did for you, you can’t even show up for Christmas?

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