Page 93 of Brazen Mistakes

I don’t think he’d be calmly agreeing with Summer that the color suits me if I were in that blood-red dress. He’d be kicking everyone out of the dressing room.

With that sad comparison, I force my eyes back to the mirror, letting the two of them discuss why this dress works for the engagement party. And it is a beautiful dress. Really.

But I feel like a girl in this one. I don’t feel like a woman.

My feelings about it don’t matter, though. What matters is being invisible to Trips’ dad. And it’d be hard to stand out when what I’m wearing blends in.

The seamstress takes in a bit of the waist, and I wish I’d been able to eat more than a few bites of a peanut butter sandwich after RJ and I got back to the house.

I’m falling the fuck apart. I can see it. The guys can see it, too.

But I’ll get better. I have to.

What other choice do I have?

Summer comes up beside me, pulling me from my thoughts. “What are your plans for hair and makeup?”

“I don’t know. I thought I’d pull my hair up so the back is visible, and that I’d wear some natural style makeup.”

“Where are you going?”

“Going?”

Summer stares, waiting for something. Walker comes up on my other side, stepping around the seamstress with an apology. “We haven’t booked anything,” Walker says, filling me in with his answer.

I’m supposed to go somewhere to have my hair done? Like rich kid prom? Because for my prom, I got together with a few of my friends from cross-country and we did each other’s hair while drinking sparkling apple cider and spraying too much hairspray in the room, making us all a little lightheaded. It was a blast.

“I’ll see if I can get her in with my people,” Summer answers, immediately picking up her phone to make a call.

“Wait. Why can’t I just get myself ready? This is already costing too much. I don’t need a spa day.”

Walker squeezes my hand, pulling my focus to him. “Remember the goal, Clara.”

“Really? Everyone does a full face and professional hair to go to an engagement party?”

Summer takes a few steps toward the door. “They do for a Westerhouse engagement party.” She leaves the room, her phone pressed to her ear.

“Walker,” I say, knowing I sound pathetic and pleading. But I’m already donning a dress that doesn’t feel like me, practicing walking and sitting like someone that isn’t me, forcing all the bits of myself I’ve finally let out of the box of “good behavior” back into it, and it’s causing me more stress, amplifying the anxiety living in my chest. I’m not a debutante, no matter what I’m pretending.

I will mess up. The parts of myself that I’m finally coming to own, they aren’t small, docile things. They’re unruly and loud. And now I’m going to be shushing them right when I want to feed them, when I want to encourage them to grow and see what they turn into.

He kisses me softly, and I lean into him until the seamstress tuts. “I know, princess,” he says. “Think of this like a costume party.”

“I’ve never been to a costume party.”

“No? Then it’s a good thing we’re fixing that soon.” His grin is warm, inviting, and all I want to do is jump off this platform and into his arms.

When I’m there, I don’t have to be anything I’m not.

Summer comes back in, an honest smile on her face. “I got you in with me for hair and makeup. And because you’ll need it if you’re meeting Papa Westerhouse, I got us massages, manicures, and pedicures before that.”

My eyes are enormous in the mirror. “That’s…that’s a lot.”

“It’s what the event calls for. We can have some girl time. None of your men allowed.”

I blink at her, not sure when she figured out I have more than one man in my life. Also, I’m not sure I want girl time with the beautiful empty shell that is Summer Jones.

She ducks into the changing stall as the seamstress finishes up my hem, Walker’s eyes glittering as he takes in my shocked expression. He squeezes my hand. “New friend?”

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