Upstairs, a wrench clatters to the ground.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I cannot have Carrie talking about the Breakup or about anything else from my sordid past. She needs to leave. Right now.
Especially since she’s giving me a sad smile that tells me that she was never actually interested in my store. She just wanted to pop in and see if the rumors of my self-implosion were true.
“I’m sure you’re in a hurry,” I suggest. “Were you looking for anything or just passing through?”
I’m being rude. I know I am, but desperate times.
Carrie looks hurt, but recovers quickly. “I just wanted to see what you were up to. We were worried you might not be able to bounce back after, you know, everything. It’d be criminal for you not to.”
She gives a knowing little wink to Bethany, who, bless her, just stares impassively back.
“Okay, well, it was great seeing you,” I lie. “I’m sorry you don’t have more time. Next time call and we’ll set something up.”
I all but walk her to the door and finally, finally, she’s gone. I let out a breath and lean back against the counter.
Carrie might be gone, but she’s reminded me my past isn’t.
Criminal histories have a way of catching up with a girl.
And it’s a very good reminder I’m the last thing the governor needs. Not that he’s asking to keep me or anything.
“Don’t worry,” Bethany reassures me. “I know all about mean girls.”
“Bethany, let me give you some advice.”
“Okay.” She nods eagerly, sure I’m about to impart some real worldly wisdom. And I am.
“Stay in school. Just say no. And if you get dumped, he’s not worth the felony.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Soon after Carrie departs, I close up the shop and we all head back to the mansion. Bethany continues to pepper me with design questions, asking me who my favorite designers are and what my favorite dresses are that I’ve upcycled. I’m thrilled to talk about anything that pushes Carrie and the Breakup out of my mind, but more than that, I just really like talking to Bethany. Her genuine curiosity is endearing and, unlike her dad, it’s not hard to figure her out.
“What about fashion trends?” Bethany asks. “Like, how do you even know what’s going to be hot next?”
“Well, I love a classic look, always. And luckily since I upcycle vintage clothing I’m not super focused on what materials and colors are hot this season. My goal is to salvage and recreate something that will last another fifty years.”
“What about”—she draws the word out for dramatic flair—“your fashion nevers? Do you have any?”
This kid. This kid is awesome.
“Hmm.” I consider the question carefully. I’m not sure anyone’s ever asked me this before, oddly enough. “I don’t know if I’m a ‘never’ kind of a girl. Sometimes you just have to give it a try, be outrageous, and if it doesn’t work, that’s okay.”
“Outrageous moments,” Bethany agrees. “Always.”
“In fashion, yes,” I clarify quickly, glancing at Warren. Because, as tonight reminded me, outrageousness in life is guaranteed to bite you in the ass.
“What about that kid who works with you?” Bethany asks, and I don’t think I imagine the curious tilt to her words. “He’s… fashionable.”
“Do not, under any circumstances, tell him that,” I say. “His ego doesn’t need any more boosting.”
“How old is he?”
“Too old for you,” Warren grumbles as we walk up the drive of the mansion.
“Dad, I wasn’t asking because of that,” Bethany says, rolling her eyes. “I just wanted to know where Audrey found him.”
“You know, I have no idea how I found him. He just sort of showed up and refused to leave and now he’s my pseudo-assistant even though I never hired him.”
Bethany laughs. “That’s cool. Maybe I can help out, too. Around the store. Like I could post dresses on the Tikity-Tokity for you.”
She gives me a little side-eyed grin when she says Tikity-Tokity and inside my heart swells. I glance at Warren, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s just doing that quiet observation thing of his, occasionally checking his phone but mostly just listening.
I wish I knew what he was thinking.
Why do I care what he’s thinking though? Fake relationship. Remember?
Fake relationship with a bonus side of sex.
What more could I want?
“What are we doing tonight, Dad?” Bethany asks, breaking me out of my sex thoughts. Thankfully. I know she can’t read minds, but still.
“I was thinking we could order in,” he says. “Catch me up on your life.”
“What about Audrey?”
“Audrey might be busy,” he replies with a quick glance in my direction.
He probably thinks I was planning on bookmarking porn again. Which I definitely wouldn’t be doing with his daughter home.
“Your live-in girlfriend might be busy?” Bethany scoffs, her eyebrows shooting up with all the flair of a disgusted teenager. “Oh, my God, you are embarrassing us all.”