Chapter 16 Rose #3
I watch her work, but Pearl’s words about breakfast tomorrow play back in my mind.
She’s done her best to politely, casually exclude me from our father’s wedding, and Dad hasn’t even noticed.
I came here for him, for our relationship.
But I can’t repair it if I’m the only one who acknowledges it’s broken.
“Hey.” Sunshine’s hand finds my shoulder. “You okay?”
I wipe my eyes quickly and look down at myself—the peach-ass t-shirt and shorts—and something between a laugh and a sob comes out.
Logan’s face when he saw me tonight, and when he came over to my table and took my hand.
My heart fucking soaring for that split second he took me in, before reality around us crashed in.
“I don’t know. Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just been… a lot.”
“You know, I’ve been on the outside of your group for a few days now. I know Dash and I are still new, but god, I’m just crazy about that man. I’ve never felt this way before about anyone, you know?”
I nod because I do.
“Anyway, they seem like a pretty solid group. But Pearl… I think she had everything arranged just the way she wanted it in her head. And then you walked in.” She sets the dress down and looks at me.
“She was relaxed before you got here. When Logan showed up, she was glowing. And then you showed up, and something just—closed off in her.”
Hearing this from a complete stranger is somehow more gutting than all the vitriol I’ve endured from my sister. “She’s always hated me,” I admit quietly.
“I saw the way Logan looked at you tonight. It’s the way Dash looks at me.” Sunshine gets a faraway look, smiling a little. “Those men know what they have. And they’re gonna hold on to it.”
“Pearl’s in love with Logan. She’s always hated me, but now it’s going to be so much worse.” I guess I’m only just now realizing that. I honestly hadn’t considered how she’d feel about me and Logan and some stupid part of me feels guilty about that.
“Maybe. But that’s hers to carry.” She’s quiet for a moment, working at the fabric.
“I don’t think she hates you. I think you challenge her, and she doesn’t know what to do with that.
I suspect she never made a move on him because she knew, deep down, he’d say no—and then she’d lose control of the story.
” She holds the dress up to the light. “It’s faded.
Might need professional treatment to get all the red out. ”
I take the damp dress. “At least I have a bridesmaid dress for tomorrow. Thank you for this. Seriously.”
“No problem. I’m a Jill-of-all-trades.”
“So, did you also minor in psych? You just met everybody. How’d you learn so much about us already?”
She taps her ear. “I listen. And boy, does your group talk. Plus, Dash is way chattier after an orgasm than you might expect.”
I snort, trying to hold in a laugh.
“If you need anything else, let me know.”
“Thank you, Sunshine.”
“No worries.” Sunshine smiles, grabs my hand again and walks me back out the way we came. Jorge, the chef I’m assuming, narrows his eyes at me as we sneak back through the kitchen.
When we slip into the hallway, Sunshine puts her arm around my shoulder, which is easy since she’s got a few inches on me. “Don’t worry. It’ll all work out.”
“I didn’t mention it before, but I love your dress.
” The fabric is a wash of color, deep coral bleeding into saffron and a pale, watery yellow.
Almost like tie-dye, but more natural, the way a flower unfurls.
It tapers up into a white halter neckline that makes her tan skin and long blonde hair look almost luminous under the fluorescent hallway light.
“Thank you! I painted it myself.”
“Holy shit. You’re kidding?”
She shakes her head, smiling proudly. “Nope. Painting is my true love. Canvas, usually, but sometimes fabric. My friend made the dress, and I did the rest.”
“Wow. You are very fucking impressive.”
“Thanks. All this,” she waves toward the doors, “serving tables, bartending, it pays the bills. I’m an artist, but painting doesn’t exactly come with a steady paycheck.”
“I’d love to see your work sometime.”
She taps her chin. “You know, I think you will. Something tells me we’ll be great friends.”
There’s just something about Sunshine. She smiles, then glances toward the exit, then left.
“Take that hall, and it’ll bring you out near the front desk.
Marco’s gone for the night, but the night clerk should be on—Keelyn.
I’m guessing you’d rather not go back out through the party dressed like that? ”
I look down at my ridiculous outfit. “Good guess. Thank you, Sunshine. Really.”
“It’s nothing. Good luck with the dress.”
I wave with the wet garment in one hand, and we split off—her back out to the party, me down the corridor toward my room. The fluorescent light hums overhead. I think about what she said, about Pearl closing off when I walked in. I think about my dad. And I think about Logan.
By the time I make it back to my room, I’m too tired and wrung out to do more than sleep.