Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
PENELOPE
Gilbert’s front windows glow soft and golden against the evening light, displaying a lineup of dresses that look like they belong on magazine covers or in the closets of rich women. A bell above the door chimes when I walk in, and the sound hits my nerves like an ice pick.
Racks of gowns float along the walls like clouds. Mannequins in lace and satin watch me from every corner. It’s pretty in that suffocating way, like being trapped inside a Pinterest board that smells like peonies and steam.
“Penelope,” Abi sings from across the room.
She’s standing by a circular platform in front of a wall of mirrors. Her hair is twisted into a smooth chignon at the nape of her neck, makeup perfect, a flute of champagne in one hand.
“My darling girl,” she coos as she sweeps over. “You made it.”
I force my mouth into a smile. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
She leans in and kisses my cheek. Her fingers press a little too tight at my shoulders, holding me in place for a second longer than necessary.
“You look tired,” she observes with faux concern. “Busy week at school?”
“Something like that,” I say. “Engagement parties and surprise fittings will do that to a girl.”
For a heartbeat, I think she’ll bite at the tone, but she just laughs. “This is all for you, sweet girl. You’re going to look stunning as Chad’s best woman.”
A stylist appears like she has been summoned out of thin air. She is tall, all sharp cheekbones and measuring tape around her neck.
“You must be Penelope,” she says. “I am Lila. We have you in the champagne satin with the slit.”
Abi clasps her hands together. “It’ll be perfect for her. She has the figure to pull it off.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Lead the way.”
Lila directs me to a row of fitting rooms at the back. Each is a little white box with a door and a bench and a tiny pedestal in front of a mirror. I step inside and shut the door, grateful for the small layer of privacy.
The dress hangs on a padded hanger, champagne satin catching the light, simple and clingy with a thigh-high slit that screams I behave but also maybe not.
It’s beautiful. It’s also a reminder that I’m about to stand up in front of a crowd and bless my father’s marriage to a woman who probably files her feelings next to her tax records.
I slip out of my clothes and into the dress. The fabric slides over my skin like water. I tug the straps into place and smooth it down over my hips. It hugs every curve in a way that is either flattering or dangerous. Possibly both.
“Penelope, how are we doing in there?” Lila calls from the other side of the door.
“Decent,” I answer. “Mostly. I think.”
She laughs and pulls the door open, stepping in to fuss with the bodice. She adjusts the bust, tugs the waist, and turns me toward the mirror. My reflection stares back, eyes a little too wide, shoulders a little too tight.
“Lovely,” Lila says. “The color is perfect for your skin tone. Let me just pin the hem once you’re on the platform.”
She leads me out to a small raised circle near the main mirrors. Abi is in her own fitting area, door open, stepping into a gown with the help of another stylist. Her dress is a sleek mermaid lace situation that looks like it costs more than my car.
She catches sight of me and lights up. “Oh, look at you.”
I step onto the pedestal and let Lila start pinning the hem while I hold the fabric up. The dress moves around my legs like liquid. I feel exposed and armored at the same time.
“Turn for me, sweetheart,” Abi calls.
I give her a slow spin, more for Lila than for Abi, but I let the skirt flare, anyway.
“Oh, it’s divine,” Abi sighs. “What do you think?”
I study myself in the mirror. “It’s fine.”
Lila laughs. “She means it looks stunning.”
I don’t argue.
Abi moves to her own platform, and her stylist fusses with the lace and trains while Abi stares at herself with fondness.
“So,” I say, as casually as I can with pins near my ankles. “Have you talked to Minxy this week?”
Abi’s gaze flickers to my reflection for half a second. “Of course. I talk to her often.”
“How is she?” I ask.
“Fine,” Abi says. “Focusing on her school program.”
Lila moves around me, pinning the back. I stay still, watching Abi’s face in the mirror.
“What does that mean exactly?” I ask. “Her program?”
Abi smooths a hand over the lace on her hip, smile still fixed. “Her courses, her behavior plan. You know how specialized schools are, Penelope. They structure every minute to keep students on track.”
“Sounds intense,” I say.
“It’s necessary,” she replies. “She’s always been a bit… impulsive. Same as Talon. The structure is good for them.”
Lila moves to my other side, crouching near my thigh. I lower my voice a little. “She’s been gone a long time. And I don’t think it’s right that her mom is getting married, and she’s not met her soon-to-be stepfather or her new sister.”
Abi’s hand tightens on the fabric. It is a tiny movement, barely there, but I see it.
“Her school year isn’t over,” she says. “I don’t yank her out just because I miss her. That would be selfish. She’ll meet you and your father when she finishes her program.”
“So she’s basically almost done,” I say.
“Almost,” Abi echoes. “Once they tell me she’s made enough progress, we’ll discuss next steps.”
“Progress,” I repeat. The word tastes sour.
Abi keeps her eyes on the mirror. “You know how it is. Children who act out, they need guidance. We don’t want her stuck in the past.”
We don’t want her stuck in the past.
My stomach goes cold.
Lila straightens. “Hem is pinned. I’ll grab a smaller size of this, and we can compare the fit.”
She steps away, leaving me alone on the platform. Abi’s stylist disappears into the racks for something, and for a moment it is just the two of us in a sea of tulle and silence.
I clear my throat. “What exactly did she do that has everyone so worried?”
Abi’s gaze slices to mine in the mirror. “Excuse me?”
“You said children who act out,” I say. “That sounds like she burned a church down or saw someone get murdered.” I let a smile slip. “God, it's like you are keeping her in there because she’s in witness protection or something.”
The joke lands like a brick.
Abi’s face goes white. Not pale in a flattering way. Drained. Her lips part, then clamp shut. Her fingers curl into her skirt. For a second, I think she might drop right there on the floor.
The air between us changes. It thickens.
“Penelope,” she says, voice thin, “that is not funny.”
My pulse spikes.
I tilt my head slightly. “I want to know what family my dad is marrying into.”
Abi swallows, throat working. “Minxy is at school, and she will stay at school until she’s ready to be home. That’s all you need to know.”
I watch her in the mirror. She won’t meet my eyes now. That tiny lack of eye contact is louder than any confession.
“So you’re not hiding her,” I say very calmly. “Just making sure she can’t be a part of this family. God, you must really hate your kids. I’m glad my dad never treated me like that.”
Her head snaps around. “Watch your tone.”
There it is. The real Abi.
“You’re the one who’s keeping her locked away at school,” I say. “That doesn’t sound like the usual boarding school bullshit.”
Abi stares at me, color still not back in her cheeks. She looks as though every word I say is wrong or accusatory.
“You’re letting your imagination run away with you,” she says finally. “This is exactly why I did not want to involve you in the details. You get dramatic.”
“I’m concerned,” I correct. “There’s a difference.”
She draws in a breath through her nose, sharp and angry. “I need to use the restroom. Keep going with the fitting.”
She steps down from her platform, gathers a handful of fabric, and disappears into her fitting room. The door slams closed.
Lila returns with another dress in her arms. “Ready to try a size down?”
“Actually,” I say, forcing my voice steady, “I am. Just let me go in and change, and I’ll be right out.”
Lila smiles like she has heard that a thousand times. “Of course. I’ll leave this here. Just call if you need help with the zipper.”
She hangs the new dress on a hook and drifts away to help another bride.
The second she’s out of range, I step down from the platform, hitch the skirt up enough to move, and slip into my fitting room right next to the one Abi vanished into. I hear it before I see anything.
Abi’s voice, low and sharp.
“No, I told you, she’s getting pushy,” she hisses. “Yes, the stepdaughter. Chad’s girl. She keeps asking about Minxy. Just shut up. I’ll text you.”
My heart slams against my ribs.
I pull the upholstered bench closer as quietly as I can and step on top of it, then grab the top of the divider with my fingertips. The fabric of my dress pulls a little at the thigh, but I plant my feet and straighten slowly until my head clears the top.
It feels absolutely ridiculous but necessary.
Abi’s inside, turned slightly away, still in her gown. Her phone is in her hand, screen bright against the soft lighting. I can read every word.
My stepdaughter is getting pushy. No one can know that Minxy saw us that night with Todd. Todd will lead to Dominic, and that CANNOT happen.
The words hit like a shovel.
Saw us.
The night with Todd.
Will lead to Dominic.
Cannot happen.
My fingers tighten on the divider until they hurt.
Abi’s thumbs fly over the screen.
She thinks it’s just school drama. But if she keeps digging, she’ll get herself hurt. Keep this contained. Minxy stays where she is until the wedding is over.
My breath catches.
Todd. The second husband. The one Talon said just disappeared. Dominic is the name of Talon’s dad. And Minxy saw something that ties all of them together.
My brain tries to slot it together. Todd didn’t just leave. Dominic didn’t just commit suicide. There was a night. There was an us. There’s a reason Abi married again like nothing happened.
I feel my stomach pitch.