Rose cupped my shoulders. “You can do this. You’re a fantastic ladybeast, and you can do anything.”
Lily smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. We’ll show you how to do your makeup super easy. You don’t need much. Your skin is amazing, your eyes are gigantic, and you have the thickest, longest lashes I’ve ever seen. It’s no wonder you don’t wear makeup. You don’t need it. But it’s nice when you’re dressed up, so you look together.”
“I very seriously doubt that I will ever look together.”
But she chuckled. “Trust me. You will. Now, get dressed and let’s hit the shoe department.”
I sighed. “Thank you for teaching me how to girl.”
“You already know how to girl. This is how you lady,” Rose said with a curtsy, and we laughed.
The rest of the evening was a whirl. First were shoes — black velvet pumps with a platform, which was supposed to help me walk easier, though I still thought I walked funny in them. Then we found a dainty gold bracelet and earrings that were two long slender bars connected by a chain, so one bar hung in front of my earlobe and the other in back. And then was the makeup counter.
I was told to keep it simple. The makeup I had was old enough that I couldn’t even remember when I got it, so I ended up with blush, mascara, liquid eyeliner, and a nude eyeshadow palette — which Lily gave me a quick rundown on and made it seem absolutely simple. The last thing was a red lip crayon called Bloody Valentine, which Rose assured me was her absolute favorite, and her lips always looked amazing, so I took her word on merit alone.
I walked out of the store with a bag full of goodies and a much lighter wallet, with a little bit of hope and a whole lot of plans, taking the girls by the hand in search of whiskey.
Tyler
The subway was packed, and so were my thoughts as I made my way home, still trying to calm down.
My biggest mistake was that I should have walked away from Kyle a long time ago. I should have let him go, even after everything he’d done for me. I could take his bullshit if it were just on me. But he brought Cam into it, and that wasn’t something I could forgive.
If nothing else, I wished I’d waited to hang out with him until after the cocktail party, made some excuse to avoid him. Because I’d see him again in twenty-four hours. If I didn’t see him for a year, I would have been satisfied, however improbable that was, given the nature of our tight-knitindustry.
I only hoped he had the good sense to leave us alone, which was the equivalent of wishing on a star to win the lottery.
Part of me wanted tell Cam what happened, not just to vent and get it off my chest, but so she’d have an idea of what to expect from him tomorrow night. But I knew how hurt she’d be, how much it would feed into her anxiety about us. And that was the last thing I wanted.
By the time I walked through the door, my anger had ebbed to a dull hum in the back of my mind. It nearly dissipated when Cam walked out of her bedroom, smiling and fresh as a daisy.
I set my bag down by the door, and she bounded over and into my arms, laughing.
My heart filled so much, it hurt.
I picked her up, and she wrapped her legs around my waist, hanging on my neck.
“Hey,” she said breathlessly.
“Well, hello.”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
She looked at my lips. “I got a really pretty dress today.”
I raised a brow. “You gonna show me?”
She smiled, catching her bottom lip between her teeth. “Mm-Mmm,” she answered, shaking her head.
I pouted. “Well, that sucks.”
“You’ll see it tomorrow night. I also got heels, so hopefully I don’t break my ankle.”
I laughed and kissed her sweetly. “I’m happy to have you hang on my arm all night.”
“Good, ‘cause I’m gonna need all the help I can get.”
She relaxed her legs, and I set her down, a little sad I hadn’t taken the opportunity to kiss her more.
“How’s Kyle?” she asked as she walked into the kitchen. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”
I tried not to frown as I followed her, taking a seat at the table. “He’s, you know. Kyle.”
She chuckled. “Did you eat?”
“No, actually.”
“Well, lucky for you, I just made mac and cheese.” She smiled at me over her shoulder as she pulled on oven mitts.
I salivated at the thought. “Your mom’s recipe?”
She wet her lips. “Mmhmm. With maple bacon.”
I groaned, and she laughed before opening the oven. She was already in her pajamas — a tank top and tiny, tight black shorts — and I watched her with appreciation as she bent over to pull the casserole dish out.
She kicked the door closed with her foot and set the dish on a trivet on the table in front of me.
“Voilà,” she said before turning to the cabinets to retrieve bowls, then forks, then napkins.
I leaned on the table to get closer and drew in a breath through my nose. “That smells so good, Cam.”
“Thanks.” She set a bowl in front of me, smiling.
“How’d you ever get to be such a good cook?”
She pushed her glasses up her nose and shrugged, spooning out a portion into my bowl. “It’s not all that hard. You just have to follow the instructions.”
I snorted. “Yeah, that’s not all there is to it.”