“Edward knows you need to meet with him and that you want money,” she added.
“I’m going to take your fiancé for all he’s worth,” I promised.
There was another round of fabric rustling. “You should.” She sounded out of breath. “The first time I took him to The Red Room, we accidentally fucked in the alley. We owe a lot to that place.”
“I remember the night you accidentally fell onto his dick.”
“You told me to go for it, babe,” she countered.
I had. It was my first night meeting Edward, and the energy between the two of them was like a lightning storm. I was mildly scandalized just standing next to them on the street. But my sister was the epitome of brave, to me, and I didn’t want her to think she had to deny what she wanted because she was scared of what might happen next.
Isn’t part of it the risk? Max had called it the “scary parts” yesterday, although it sounded like he avoided them as much as I did. Free-fall wasn’t my idea of a good fucking time by any measure.
I reached into my bag, grabbed the picture I’d found in Pop’s office. I knocked on Roxy’s door. “Are you decent?”
“Have I ever been?”
I snorted. “Open up so I can see your dress and show you something that will make you happy. It’s about The Red Room.”
There was a long pause, and then the door creaked open. She was scowling, but for real.
The dress… was not good.
“Hold up,” I said, backing away. “Let me see.”
She came out, dragging miles of black tulle. The lace covered her all the way up her neck and down to her fingers. “I’m a Victorian widow.”
“That is certainly the look you are serving here.”
She huffed out a sigh. “Okay. Maybe I don’t need as much lace as I wanted.”
I handed her the whiskey and the picture of the two of us backstage at a Hand Grenades show. She squealed. “Speaking of not decent.”
“How cute are we though?”
She held the picture close. “Those were some wild days.”
“I’m wearing a sweater set.”
“This night—” She pointed at the picture. “—was a crowd-surfing night.”
“What? No way,” I said. “I was in undergrad.”
“You still did it,” she said. “A bad bitch even while getting straight A’s. That’s the Fiona Quinn motto.”
“Huh.” I crossed my arms, leaning against the door. “I forgot all about that.”
“And now I’m about to marry a sophisticated businessman whose family owns a castle.”
I glanced back at the dress again. “While wearing a dress that makes you look like you’re doomed to wander the moors, searching for your lost love.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, help me get it off.”
With much whiskey and giggling, Roxy was finally free of the lace monstrosity. I brought her another ten more choices and settled back down in the red chair, tucking my feet under me.
My phone buzzed with a text. I glanced down.
It was from Max.
I swallowed hard, even as my body immediately went up in flames. I was flushed, giddy, seconds away from twirling a lock of hair around my finger. I was a fucking Quinn, and yet a few days of Max had turned me into some kind of fainting maiden.
I was not a maiden, that was for goddamn sure.
I tapped on the text. I’ll be at Mateo’s garage tomorrow night if you still want to do some planning. I’ve got beer if you’ve got fancy office supplies.
Glancing at the dressing room, to make sure my nosy sister was occupied, I sent a quick reply: Beer and office supplies? You really know how to treat a girl.
“What are your thoughts on bridesmaid dresses, Roc?” I called over my shoulder, wandering over to a few short, punky dresses covered in polka dots.
“No thoughts,” she replied. “We’ve still got a year to go. If you weren’t my little sister I’d probably show up to my own wedding in ripped jeans.”
“Hmmmm.” I propped my hands on my hips. “Thoughts on me wearing an all-white pantsuit, a la my namesake.”
“Annie?”
“The one and only.”
My phone buzzed again, and I pretended to casually check it. I’ve been extremely clear that I know how to treat a girl.
I pressed the back of my hand to my cheek. Was it normal to fantasize about fucking your friend as much as I had in the past twenty-four hours? The moment he’d left my office last night I’d been overcome with urges I generally didn’t give in to. Of allowing Max to press the side of my face to the cool surface of my desk. To slowly, slowly, lift the material of my skirt until I was completely bare to him, completely vulnerable, completely out of control. He’d be so thorough, he’d be so good, and I knew Max well enough now to understand that he wouldn’t ask me to explain or apologize. Just to give in.
The issue was my crush. Having hot sex with a commitment-phobic friend that gave you sparks wasn’t my most well-thought-out idea. And I was the queen of well-thought-out ideas.
Speaking of, how did last night go? I texted.
Friends asked each other about their sexual exploits.
Didn’t go out after all, he wrote back. Stayed in and helped Pop at the club.
I wasn’t sure what to do with this information.
The dressing room door creaked open, and my sister stepped out in a slinky, black mermaid dress. “Oh my god, you’re beautiful.”
She wrinkled her nose, staring at herself in the three-way mirror. “I thought I’d like it more but… I’m not sure. I’m not getting that gut feeling.”
I held up my notebook. “Should we strategize? Want me to do some research for you on what the best dress would be?”
She flashed me a wry smile. “That’s sweet, but no. I think this needs to be an instinctual thing.”
She lifted the skirt and stepped nimbly back behind the door. I pressed my hand to my stomach, thought about what she’d said.
“Would you still be with Edward even if you weren’t getting married?” I asked.
“Absolutely.”
I chewed on the tip of my thumb. “Don’t you want to be married though? The whole fairy-tale thing?”
From the dressing room came the sounds of hangers and swishing fabric. “Edward is my everything. The marriage, the wedding, all the legal stuff is an important bonus to me. But at the end of the day, being together is all I ever needed.”
I chewed harder, trying to contemplate this. Marriage had been my only romantic relationship goal. Because it had seemed to be the goal of every family that wasn’t like mine—it spoke of stability and unity and something to hold onto. But if Roxy had told me they were never getting married, I would have cheered and validated their relationship just the same.
“I’ll love Edward until the end of time.” Her voice was soft and full of emotion. “And I’ll love that man any way I can get him.”
The night I’d signed the contract, Edward had pushed me on who I thought this man might be. This future husband of mine. Besides categories I’d created on my spreadsheets, I didn’t really know. And until I met Max again, until I experienced those first shimmery, electric, beautiful glimmers I didn’t really see the problem.