Page 27 of Our Long Days
I refuse to let the tears fall. “I’m trying.”
“Trying to talk to me?”
“To be someone you can be proud of.” I finally look at him, lip wobbling. “Someone Daddy would’ve been proud of. The last few months have been tough. You think I want to be late all the time? I’m not good at accepting help or listening to advice,but it would make life a lot easier if, for once, you’d be my friend and not the disappointed big brother.”
His face drops. Before he responds, I’m jumping out of the truck, his shout drowned out by the passing traffic.
I pat some color into my cheeks and strut into the store, my happy disguise firmly in place. Today isn’t about me. Lined on either side with a rainbow of fabrics, the quaint boutique is quiet, soft music tinkling through the speakers.
Four sets of eyes greet me.
Curtseying, I give them a toothy grin. “She hast arrived.”
My mother huffs. Johanna smirks. Quinn giggles. The store clerk is confused.
My good mood drops when my mom glances at her watch. “You’re late.”
In through your nose, out through your mouth.
“I’m sorry. The traffic was bad.” It’s a lie, but it’s much better than the truth.
“Now we’re all here,” the clerk begins, “we can get started. Johanna has a color theme, but otherwise”—she gestures to the rack of dresses—“she’s giving you free rein to choose your own outfit.”
Quinn claps, beaming at Jo. “Oooh, what’s your color scheme?”
Jo sweeps her long blonde hair over her shoulder and smiles. “Green. Any shade, I’m not fussy. I want you all to feel comfortable.”
She hasn’t stopped smiling since Patrick finally proposed a few months ago. They’ve known each other since they were in diapers, and after dancing around each other for way too long, they finally made it official last year after Jo moved back to Sutton Bay.
I blubbered like a baby when she asked me to be a bridesmaid. Much to my disappointment, she wasn’t interested instrippers or penis straws for her bachelorette party. Either way, it’s going to be incredible.
“Green! I love it!” I skip over to the rack, satin, silk, and chiffon kissing my fingertips.
Half an hour later, Quinn and I swish around in our chosen dresses. Harriet, who is the maid of honor, and Alessandra are also in the bridal party but couldn’t make it today.
Quinn admires her forest green off the shoulder dress in the mirror, her curves envious. I, on the other hand, am an honorary member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee. The sage A-line dress gives the illusion of a waistline and makes my long limbs appear less lanky. The hem floats below my knees, and with thin spaghetti straps, it’s not as restrictive as the other outfits I tried on.
“You both look so beautiful,” my mom croons.
“They really do,” Jo sniffles, and we all spin to find the bride-to-be with tears in her eyes. She fans her face. “Sorry. Hormones.”
Our gazes fall to her stomach, even though she’s not showing yet. Not only are she and Pat getting married, but they’re expecting a baby. Lottie’s ecstatic; she will be the best and bossiest big sister.
“Gosh, I can’t wait for another baby to join the family.” I smush my cheeks together. “They smell so good.”
“I’ll leave the dirty diapers and spit-up to you.” Jo grins. “So, are these the ones?”
“Yes!” Quinn and I reply in unison.
After the dresses are paid for, we head to the small coffee shop next door. I’m sipping my iced decaf mocha when my phone rings. I excuse myself from the table and click Accept.
“Hello,” I greet.
“Florence, hi. This is Kelsey from Better Recruitment. How are you?”
My lips twist, fighting off the nerves. “I’m really good, thanks.”
“Great. I’ll cut to the chase: I have a client who is keen to bring you on board. He thinks you’ll be a great asset.”
