Chapter Twenty-Three
Winter
I gape at myself in the mirror as Kourtney fixes the curled pieces of freshly dyed hair.
The pink is gone, much to my sister’s dismay.
And maybe a little of my own. But when Janel told me I was expected to attend the gala, I knew the color would have to be a sacrifice for the sake of professionalism.
It can always come back, even if I’m a little sad to see the boring blond that brings me no real joy.
“Wow,” I breathe, flattening my hands down the emerald-green velvet dress. There’s a small slit up the left side that goes to my knee, and the fabric hugs my body in all the right places. “This is beautiful, Kourt. Are you sure I should wear it?”
She sprays my hair, protecting my eyes as she plays with the loose curls. “Mom would have loved seeing you wear it. I’m just impressed the shoes fit.”
I pop my foot out to examine the silver pumps that our mother used to wear all the time. It was the perfect thing for tonight’s event. “Why?”
She snorts from behind me, and I meet her eyes in the mirror. “Your feet are massive, that’s why. You might as well be wearing the shoe equivalent of those magical pants from that stupid movie you loved so much as a kid.”
I gasp. “Don’t hate on The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants! The movies were so cute.”
She rolls her eyes. “They were about a pair of jeggings that were literally meant to stretch on every body type. And most of those girls were so annoying.”
Sometimes I’m sad we’re related. “You just don’t like seeing Alexis Bledel as anything other than Rory Gilmore.”
Kourtney nods once. “Damn right. And I stand by that, especially after you made me watch The Handmaid’s Tale. I’m still traumatized seeing her like that.”
It’s my turn to scoff. “She’s an adult. She was bound to start taking on other roles. But that’s beside the point. I do not have giant feet. My feet are totally average.”
“Babes, you’re five foot three and a size nine shoe,” she retorts with amusement. “I’m taller than you and only wear a size seven.”
I refuse to acknowledge that as anything other than normal. “Whatever. I’m trying to be nice and thank you for sharing Mom’s things with me, and you’re ruining it.”
A small smile tilts her lips. “I’ll drop it. Unless you stretch out the shoes. Then I’ll never let you live it down.”
I try to kick her, but she dodges it and laughs when I nearly fall over.
She steadies me and grins when she gives me a once-over. “You look hot, sis. Like super hot. Your client won’t know what hit him tonight.”
I wince, and her grin drops. “That’s not exactly what I’m going for.”
“Why? He already got you off once. Why not let him—Wait!” She studies the flush on my cheeks that has nothing to do with the makeup she helped me apply earlier. “You’ve totally screwed him, haven’t you? Oh my God! Did you give someone your virginity finally?”
I’m so glad we’re alone because I do not need Luca or Brad to hear this conversation.
“Shut up,” I whine, feeling the heat from my cheeks creep up the back of my neck.
“You did,” she squeals, jumping.
Literally. Jumping.
And clapping.
I playfully shove her. “You’re so embarrassing. Stop! And why do you make it sound like it’s a present I hand-wrapped and delivered? I didn’t ‘give’ anybody anything.”
She shakes her head. “You let somebody in, and I don’t even mean that in a gross sexual way. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me you did the deed for years. I was starting to wonder if you were asexual. Which is totally fine, by the way. But this is way more exciting than I thought.”
My brows pinch. “Why?”
“Because your client is rich. Wait.” She studies me for a second. “Didn’t you say you were working with him on some sort of scandal?”
I start to answer, but I quickly press my lips together to stop the words from coming out. I’ve been dreading this since I was dumb enough to let him press me against the wall at Furrever Home. Kourtney is going to lose her shit.
“Win,” she says slowly. “Talk to me.”
The thing is, I can’t. Because the second I start, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop. And I’ve never been worried that she’d blab what I have to say to anyone. Any NDA I sign may as well have her written in the clause as someone I can share anything with.
This just feels…bigger.
Because Thomas is etched into my skin. My mind. My chest. He’s everywhere he shouldn’t be. It’s not some random fling. It’s more. So much more.
“Oh, Winnie.” Kourtney breathes out, seeing every emotion wash over my face. She clearly doesn’t need me to confirm anything, even if it’s obvious she wants to know. “Okay. It’s okay. These things happen.”
Who is she trying to convince?
I bat my lashes repeatedly to stop the oncoming tears from leaking out and ruining the eyeliner I spent twenty minutes applying. “I messed up,” I whisper, voice watery.
She pulls me in for a hug. It’s nice, but it doesn’t feel as good as Thomas’s. And I hate that I even think such a stupid thing. “Yeah, you did,” she agrees, not bothering to sugarcoat it. “But it’s going to be okay.”
I let her squeeze me against her, trying not to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry,” I say against her shoulder.
I can feel her shake her head against me before she says, “Don’t be.
We all make mistakes. I’ve made a lot of them.
” She pauses, takes a deep breath, and releases it.
“I’m not saying I condone any of this, but I understand.
We can’t always help who we’re attracted to. And sometimes life just…happens.”
When she pulls away, she forces me to look at her. It’s hard. I don’t want to see any disappointment on her face. But when I finally do peek up at her through my painted lashes, there is none.
“I don’t regret Luca,” she tells me. “You know how much I love him. But sometimes I do regret the choice I made in who to have children with. Brad isn’t a bad father, but he’s a terrible partner. And I have to live with that.”
She never talks about her relationship with Brad. Ever. “No, you don’t. Nobody has to settle, Kourt. You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your happiness for the sake of Luca. He’ll be fine.”
Limply, her shoulders lift. “You may be right, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that battle.
That isn’t the point though. The point is that we all make decisions in life.
And those aren’t always the best ones for us, but they make for great lessons.
We all have to learn things in order to grow. This is your moment to do that.”
She sounds like such a mom, it makes me almost smile. “Do you think Mom and Dad would be ashamed of me?”
My big sister gapes at me. “Are you kidding me? No. No way. They weren’t perfect either.
Do you know how many times I heard them fight?
I’d have to put headphones on to ignore them when I still lived at home.
Nobody is perfect. If they were here, they would tell you the same thing.
They wouldn’t love you any less for what you’ve done. ”
I know she’s right, so I don’t fight her on it.
She swipes at my cheeks, which I don’t realize are damp. “None of this. You’re going to ruin your makeup. We can’t have you looking like a trainwreck at the event.”
I snort, and the pathetic sound makes her laugh. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
Kourtney winks at me. “Always.” She gives me another once-over after we dry my face and touch up some of my eye makeup that a tissue rubs off. “Are you going to be okay? I can come. Consider me your security. I make a great cockblock if you’re concerned you may fall onto your client’s dick.”
I glare at her. “Too soon.”
She holds up her hand. “Fine, fine.”
I turn back to the mirror and stare at the woman looking back at me in the reflection. “I look so much like her.”
She leans against me, her smile warm. “You really do.”
Warmth enters my chest, wrapping around my heart like a heated blanket. It’s Mom, I realize. Giving me her love. Showing me that she’s not judging.
Kourtney touches the strands of hair that used to be pink. “You didn’t dye this because of him, right? You’re not trying to, like, impress him or anything.”
I shake my head, staring at my blond locks and missing the color. “No. This is about me trying to fit in.”
“Who says you need to?” she doubts.
I swallow. “I do.” My lips fall into a frown as that soaks in. “If I fit in, then things will be easier.”
Kourtney’s lips match my own. “I don’t think it’s as easy as that, babes. I wish it were.”
It’s hard to swallow suddenly as I truly see myself. The girl void of color. The one who has to force a smile. “I’m sorry about you and Brad,” I find myself saying quietly.
Kourtney’s smile reappears, but her eyes dim a fraction. “Me too, Win. Me too.” Her hand finds mine. “I’m sorry you fell in love with a married guy.”
I flinch. “I never said I loved him.”
She shrugs. “You didn’t have to.”
*
The Historical Association decided to host the gala in Fairbanks’s City Hall, which is one of the oldest buildings in the city limits. Its Greek architecture and large pillars make it look like it should be a museum full of rarities, not local government officials and court proceedings.
Tonight, there is no sign of the people who usually congregate around the historic building to pay fines, deal with speeding tickets, or trying to get special-use permits signed off by the board.
There’s a literal red carpet rolled out that covers the marble steps, lights wrapped around the Corinthian-style columns, and temporary police bans posted along each side of the road so cars dropping off big-name people can stop curbside in front of the building.
Even though it seems silly to go all out for an event like this, they did a beautiful job.
Everything looks so much more immaculate than usual.
Government officials who usually wear jeans and plaid button-downs for board meetings are in tuxedos and cocktail dresses, and there’s not one work boot or flip-flop in sight.