One for the Money

She claps her hands. “He’s going to freaking die when he sees you.”

I give her an impulsive hug. “Thank you for this, sister mine. Seriously.”

“Hey. Of course. You do enough for me. For all of us. And it’s a rare day when you actually need or want my help. I was happy to do it.”

A rare day when you actually need or want my help. I hadn’t realized that I’d been so resistant to help. Maybe I do need to get better about accepting support instead of always giving it.

Well, let’s not go that far.

But the dress is beautiful.

The doorbell rings, and Sophia goes to answer it.

She comes back with Mama.

The scent of Chanel N°5 hits me before she does. Then I’m wrapped in silk-covered arms, with air kisses on either side of my cheeks. “I had to see you.”

“It’s not prom.”

“It’s not every day one of your daughters goes on a date with a Hughes.”

Fake date, I hear in my head. It’s only a fake date. There’s no reason for me to feel so out of my depth with it. It is fake. It just has to look real. We’ll go to a real restaurant and eat real food. We might have a real kiss at the end of this night.

“Let me look at you,” she says, standing back. “Sophia dressed you? You have an eye, darling. She looks ravishing. I wouldn’t have picked it off a rack, but look at her. She’s stunning. He won’t know what to think.”

I’ve never heard so many kind words from my mother, one after the other. Oh, she loves her children in her own distracted way. But a loveless marriage and a grueling social status have always taken precedence in her life.

“Thanks, Mom.”

I feel almost embarrassed at how much I like myself in this dress.

“There’s one more thing,” Sophia says.

One more thing turns out to be a bloodred lipstick. She wipes off what I had before and replaces it with a bold, sensual color. It makes me look worldly and brave.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask, even though I can’t change it. I can’t even look away. That’s how impressive the woman standing in front of the mirror looks. It’s only a pretend situation, like the date itself, but in this moment it doesn’t matter.

When we come out of the bathroom, my mother claps. “Perfect. Now, Eva. You and I have never talked about this before, but if he asks to come for coffee after the date—”

“Mom.”

“Are you going to tell her about the birds and the bees?” Sophia asks, looking delighted.

“She has to know,” my mother says.

“I’m thirty-three years old.”

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” she says, her tone soothing. “You’ve never been interested in boys. In fact, your father wondered if perhaps you were interested in women.”

Pain forces my eyes closed. If only they knew that I lost my virginity when I was nineteen. I gave more than my innocence to that man. “I’ve had sex before.”

“Oh.” My mother blinks.

“Please don’t look so shocked.”

“This is fascinating,” Sophia says, eyes bright with humor.

“I don’t understand why you aren’t having this conversation with her,” I say, pointing at a sister who’s having way too much fun with this.

“Everyone knows Sophia’s had sex.” My mother.

“Does the scarlet letter on my clothes give it away?” Sophia asks.

I hold up my hands before my family drives me insane. “Listen, I have had sex. Which is great, but more importantly, I will not be having sex with Finn Hughes. And more important than that, if I was going to have sex, I wouldn’t talk to you about it.”

“Men like lingerie,” my mother says, not even remotely deterred.

“I really don’t want to hear this.”

“You can’t wear it at the restaurant, obviously. But when you bring him back up here, you can say you’re going to slip into something more comfortable.”

“This sounds like porn,” I say.

“Bad porn,” Sophia says, wincing.

As if to punctuate that proclamation, the doorbell rings.

Finn looks incredible in his suit. He greets me warmly before turning to my family. “Mrs. Morelli. Sophia. I didn’t know you would be here.”

“We just dropped by to see our lovely Eva,” she says, as if it’s random happenstance. “And she told us she had plans with you. Again.”

“I do seem to be monopolizing her company. But what good company it is.” He grins at me, as if he knows that my sister came here to dress me. And that my mother came here to talk about the birds and the bees. And that, somehow, it’s all a joke that we’re in on together.

He has that effect.

It’s not embarrassing, in this moment. It’s effervescent. Like life is a fizzy drink.

“We’re going to the new Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side.” He gives her a lopsided smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll have her home by curfew.”