“Oh.” I shrug bashfully.
“You need to wear more fitted things.”
“I just don’t want to look like I’m trying to be young,” I reply meekly.
“You are young, Claire. You’re only what? Early thirties?”
“I’m thirty-eight.”
She smiles as she runs her hand down my shoulder and readjusts my bra strap. “I style eighty-year-olds. Trust me. You are young.” She smiles as she stands back to look at me. “Now, what do you need?”
“I have a black-tie dinner on Saturday night.”
“Okay.” She holds my hair up and looks at it. “At what time is it?”
I frown, and Marley grabs my phone. Tristan sent me the invitation. “Seven p.m.”
“Okay.” She takes out her phone and makes a call. “Hello, Marcello.”
She listens for a moment. “Hello, darling. Listen, I have a favor. Can you do hair and makeup for me on Saturday night, please?”
I frown, and my eyes flick to Marley.
“Oh . . . it’s an emergency. I’m going to send you images of exactly what we need.”
Emergency. I widen my eyes in horror, and Marley drops her head to hide her smile.
“Yes, we have a Cinderella here.” She listens, and her eyes sweep up and down my body. “Okay great, I’ll text you the address.” She hangs up. “Okay, that’s sorted out.”
I smile nervously.
“Marcello will come to your place and do your hair and makeup late on Saturday afternoon.”
I bite my lip to hide my smile. I’ve never had that before. “Is that necessary?”
“Oh my God, darling. Yes. It’s necessary. Now . . . let’s go shopping. I know exactly what you need.”
“Okay, thanks, Barb.” I smile. I rest my foot on top of Tristan’s leg. It’s Thursday night, and Tristan and I are having a glass of wine and watching television in the living room. The boys have miraculously done their homework, dinner is finished and cleaned up, and now they have a precious two hours to work on their model. This bribery of Tristan’s is the best thing since sliced bread. Everyone is behaving and hustling to get things done quickly so they can work on it together.
It’s like the freaking twilight zone or some shit.
“Are you sure that’s okay?” I listen to my girlfriend as we speak on the phone. I’m arranging for Harry to stay at her place on Saturday night. Fletcher is staying here with two friends, and Patrick is taken care of, but it’s Harry that I have to really check on.
“Of course, Claire, he’ll be fine. We will get pizza and watch movies.”
“Thanks so much. I’ll see you then.”
“Okay, see you on Saturday,” she replies, and I hang up.
Tristan raises an eyebrow. “We good?” he asks hopefully.
“All good.” I smile. “Who knew that Tristan Miles would be excited about locking in a babysitter?”
He chuckles and clinks his glass with mine. “Right?”
“Seriously, though, it is a relief. Barb is the only one I would leave Harrison with.”
“What’s gone on with Harrison in the past to make you so nervous about leaving him?”