Chapter 21
AURORA
Roman Drake
I won’t be there this evening after all, so let yourself in.
Might be there Wednesday if you’re not finished by then, but I’ll keep you updated.
ME
Hot date with the Rubik’s cube?
Roman Drake
Hot date with my résumé and some businesses in downtown Boulder.
Me
Isn’t that stuff usually done online these days?
Roman Drake
I’m much more charming in person than I am on paper.
You don’t need to lock up when you’re done later. Thanks, Aurora.
ME
So professional. But you’re welcome.
ROMAN DRAKE
It occurs to me that I’ve never actually specified: Please don’t clean or organize in my room.
The rest of the house looks fantastic, but my room hasn’t been touched, which means it’s one of the only places left.
ME
Too late. I went in there on Monday while you were on your hot date with your job hunt.
I dug through all your drawers and found the stash of romance novels you keep in your underwear drawer.
ROMAN DRAKE
Look at that—a sense of humor.
Stop glaring at me.
ME
How could you POSSIBLY know I’m glaring?
ROMAN DRAKE
You are neither mysterious nor subtle, little vandal.
ME
Are you going to be home today while I’m working?
So I can glare at you in person?
ROMAN DRAKE
I know you miss me horribly, but no. Probably not. Send your daggers from afar.
“Psst.”
I startle and drop my hand back to my side, stepping quickly back, but it’s no good. Juliet has already spotted me.
“What?” I say, trying to look casual as my face heats. But my voice is too loud for the little shop we’re in, especially because we’re the only ones here—apparently Thursday afternoons and evenings are slow.
“Try it on,” Jules says now.
“Try what on?”
Juliet rolls her eyes and waltzes closer, nodding at the dress I was just looking at. It’s a deep red, simple but classy—fitted and knee length with cap sleeves and a deep neckline. A little bit sexy, but not too much. It would look amazing with a pair of crimson heels.
I clear my throat, turning away from the dress, which is probably for bridesmaids. “We’re not here for me to try things on. We’re here to look at wedding gowns.”
“We can do two things at once,” Juliet says, her eyes bright with excitement. This is her dream—dress shopping with her sisters.
I love her for it.
“It’s totally hot, Aurora,” Jules goes on, eyeing the dress. She lifts it off the rack and touches the satiny fabric. “It would look so good on you, too. This is a great color.”
“We’re here for Indy,” I say, taking the red dress out of Juliet’s hand and hanging it quickly back on the rack. “I shouldn’t even have come over here.”
And it’s true. Because where would I wear that dress? Who would see me in it? Who would I want to impress, anyway?
Roman’s face flashes through my mind, and I shake my head as though that will dislodge him from my brain. I shouldn’t be thinking about him at all.
I went over to his house yesterday, and as per his instructions, I left his room alone. So I’ll go again tomorrow to do a final walkthrough, but after that I’ll be done, presumably out of his life.
It’s a good thing, I guess.
I swallow and turn away from the rack of dresses.
“Boo,” Juliet says, but when I return to Indy’s side, she follows.
There aren’t any wedding dress shops in Lucky, Colorado.
We had to come to Boulder, and this is the third place we’ve looked.
But now that India is officially engaged, she needs a dress.
And as much as she grumbled that there was no hurry when Juliet brought it up, I can’t help but notice that she’s wearing a rare expression as she drifts down the rack of dresses against the wall—sweet and hopeful and content.
“Okay,” Juliet says. “Do you see anything you like? Do you have any more thoughts about what you want?”
“Not really,” India says, her voice distracted. “I just want something simple. But—still nice,” she adds, her cheeks coloring slightly.
Something inside me softens, and I rub her back. “You’re allowed to want a nice dress,” I tell her with a little smile. She ducks her chin, trying to hide her own smile. “That’s not—embarrassing, or whatever. You’re getting married. It happens once in a lifetime. Find a dress you love.”
India turns to Juliet and I, and if possible, her cheeks go even redder, contrasting with her orange hair. “I think—” she whispers before breaking off.
“Yes?” Juliet says.
“I think I might like lace,” India says, her voice still low, her eyes widening as though she can’t believe it herself. “I think lace is pretty.”
Juliet squeals so loudly that a woman from the front rushes back to ask us if we’ve found something we want to try on. I nudge Jules in the ribs and then tell the solicitous lady—who no doubt earns commissions—that we’ll let her know if we need help.
“India, lace is gorgeous,” Jules says once the woman has returned back to the front of the shop. “It totally is gorgeous.”
“I just didn’t think I would ever wear it,” India says, and I’m pleased to see the embarrassment fading from her cheeks. “That’s all.”
“You’re allowed to wear lace,” I say. “You can wear ruffles and tulle and everything floofy if you want—”
“I don’t want,” India cuts me off, her nose wrinkling. “But…I do like lace. Maybe some kind of overlay.”
“On the skirt too?”
“No…” She trails off, her voice thoughtful. “I think just on the top. Like…” She bites her lip and then takes a few steps down the row of dresses, sorting through them until she finds what she’s looking for. “Like this one.”
Juliet doesn’t squeal again, but I can tell she’s struggling not to.
“You want to try it on?” I say.
And, still biting her lip, India nods.
She’s not an impulsive person, and definitely not an impulsive wedding dress buyer, but twenty minutes later, we can tell: This is the one.
The a-line dress is sleeveless, and India has the arms to pull it off. The neck is high, the lace bodice fitted, and the skirt flows delicately to the floor, light and loose instead of heavy or weighed down.
“Quick,” I say to Juliet. “Send a picture to Mom and Poppy.”
Juliet snaps a photo as India tries and fails not to beam; she turns back to the mirror and looks at herself again, and her smile somehow grows even wider.
“You look like a princess,” Jules says, and I nod.
“It’s gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.”
“And I like the ivory rather than the stark white.”
“Me too,” India says. “I think it’s warmer.”
“What are you thinking for your hair?”
“I’m not sure yet,” India says, her expression turning thoughtful. “I want something, but I don’t really want a veil.”
“You’ve got time,” I say. “We can find something you’ll love.”
“I love Felix,” she says simply, tucking her hair behind her ear. “The rest is just icing on top.”
Juliet gives a dreamy sigh, and I swallow past whatever emotion is blooming in the back of my throat—something slight but prickly and tinged with regret.
“My baby all grown up,” I say, because it’s the closest I can come to vocalizing this feeling.
The feeling that things are changing, that nothing will ever be the same; that our lives are moving forward, but only if we let them. That there may come a time when I’m left behind, too much of a coward to step into the unknown.
I can’t say these things to my sisters. I just can’t. So I smile instead, and India and Jules both smile in response.
“Should we get ice cream to celebrate?” Juliet says, clasping her hands together.
I snort. “If you’re buying.”
“I’m buying,” she says happily, looking back and forth between us. Then she links arms with India. “Are we done here, bride-to-be? Or do we need to do anything else?”
India’s smile is genuine and satisfied as she looks in the mirror once more. “We’re done,” she says. “We’re definitely done.”
As the date auction grows closer, so does my sense of dread—and it’s not because we’re unprepared.
Our numbers have turned out well; we haven’t sold out completely, but close. Even participation in the auction has increased. Everything is good to go with our vendors, we’re keeping an eye on the weather for the day of the event, and we’re coming in on budget.
It’s just that every time I close my eyes, I see myself standing on a stage, surrounded by total silence as I stare into a crowd of people, waiting for someone to want me enough to spend money on me.
When I shake my head and reassure myself that won’t happen, the alternative floods in instead: myself on stage being bid on by a bunch of random guys I’m not interested in. Being forced to go on a date with one of them.
“You still have a few days left to mentally prepare,” I tell myself as I sit at my desk at work. “You could prepare for anything in that time. A stupid date auction will be easy peasy.”
But it doesn’t feel easy peasy.
My eyes dart around the office as I debate, chewing on my lip. Mindy flits past looking very chic and adorable, as per usual, and I give her a nod, because I should. It’s enough to direct my eyes back to my computer screen, though, which I stare blankly at for thirty more seconds.
Then, finally, I pull out my phone and send a text to Juliet.
Me
I think I might go back to that dress shop and buy the red dress to wear to the stupid date auction.
Jules
YES GOOD
you would be such a babe in that!!!
Me
It’s been several days. Do you think it’s still there?
If they even have my size
Jules
I’m sure it is!!
let’s go when you get home!!!
Me
Alternate proposal so I don’t have to drive from work all the way to Lucky and then all the way back to Boulder: just meet me at my office at five. Bring Indy.
JULes
She’s with Felix but I still want to go!!
ME
See you then.
Because Juliet does nothing by halves, she gives my text a thumbs up, a heart, and a smiley face. I shake my head and put my phone down, feeling a bit more encouraged.
Thankfully the dress wasn’t horribly expensive, or I wouldn’t be able to justify buying it at all. And realistically, I could get by without it.
But no matter how much I try to banish the images from my mind, I keep seeing myself up on the stage in the Lucky town square, feeling absolutely humiliated.
A great dress would help.
“Aurora.”
I startle out of my thoughts and whirl to face Bart, who’s just appeared by my desk.
“Yes,” I say automatically.
And I swear he knows what I’ve been thinking about, because Bart has the audacity to shoot a smug little smile at me.
“Getting ready for the auction?” he says. He runs one hand over his hair and puffs up slightly. “Any thoughts on what kind of date you want to take the lucky man on?”
“Not so far,” I say with a sweet smile as I blow his head off with the laser beams shooting from my eyes.
“Just ask the boss’s brother to come,” he says, and his smugness turns into something sour and grudging. “You two seemed to be hitting it off.”
Ah. I see.
I suppose Bart wouldn’t like it if someone else played with the toy he’d recently set down, especially if that someone was Roman—more attractive, more of a leader, more everything.
No worries there, Bart, I think as regret stirs in my chest. For better or worse, I sunk that ship.
In fact, that ship is about to disintegrate at the bottom of the ocean, because tomorrow will be my last day at Roman’s. He wasn’t there on Wednesday, and I haven’t heard if he’ll be around tomorrow.
I want to ask, but I don’t know if I should. There’s no point, and it might be better to have no expectations anyway. I’ll get paid, and that’s all that matters.
“That’s all that matters,” I repeat to myself.
“What?” Bart says.
I blink at him, my brows furrowing. “Are you still here? Did you need something?”
He just rolls his eyes, mutters something under his breath, and then drifts irritably away.
I, meanwhile, look at the clock on my computer screen and ignore the skeptical glance of the girl next to me—who, yes, always seems to catch me talking to myself.
“Two more hours,” I say. “Two more hours, and then the workday is over.”
“Ay-men,” the girl next to me says, and I nod.
“Ay-men.”