To find something to wear on a date with Owen.
Something sexy.
For him.
I look down at my phone and hit his text thread.
Me: I miss you.
Owen: I miss you. Are you having fun? Got anything good?
Me: Yes, a blast. Jean is fun.
Owen: I thought you’d like her.
Me: Thank you for this.
Owen: Anything for you.
Oh Jesus, I’ve fallen for this guy.
I just hope he’s falling for me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Angie
* * *
Mom: Make sure to send me pictures of you in your dress…and maybe one of you and this guy.
I exhale as I read my mom’s message over once more. It was easy to send her pictures of my outfits since I was able to make the angles look as if the clothes were smaller than they were. I folded a lot of it to take away the volume of the fabric, but there is no way in hell I can fold my dress to make it look smaller on me. Or to make myself look smaller in it. I bite into my lip and consider getting an app to Photoshop the picture I would take, but if I do go home, it’ll be worse than it already would be.
I’m unsure what to do.
To keep Mom at bay, I text back quickly.
Me: Okay!
Mom: Remember pictures of the guy! I’m curious, ya know!
Ha. If only she knew. But then, it would be exciting to show Owen off. I know he’ll be looking mighty dashing when he picks me up. I can’t wait, and as silly as it sounds, I’m nervous.
Meanwhile, Jean has no clue and is a hoot.
“Why do you look scared? Do you not like your makeup?”
I shake my head almost violently, which is bad since she’s got a curling wand in my hair. “No! I love my makeup,” I insist, and I do. She did a sick-ass cat eye with silver glitter lining the black she used on my lid. She contoured my face like a professional, and I’m glowing all over the place. With a dark-red lip, even I find myself gorgeous. “I’m nervous.”
She laughs. “Nervous? He’s your boyfriend!”
“I know,” I say, sighing loudly. “I’m just worried he won’t like the dress or the way I look.”
Jean scoffs. “I promise you, he’s going to have to go change his pants from coming in them.”
We both explode with laughter, and the thought of Owen doing that pleases me to no end. He’s already home. He got in late last night after his game. I almost went to go see him. I miss him, but I refrained to make this date even more special. It’s trivial, I know, but since he’s excited, I’m excited. It’s all so silly. What am I even doing? I got a dress, a real dress, that shows my legs and arms and boobs, even! I’m getting gussied up like Owen said, and I’m excited.
This is bound to be a shitshow.
Thankfully, Jean is here to distract me.
“God, I love your hair. It’s so thick and beautiful,” she gushes, moving the wand through my hair to curl it. I don’t know how we became friends so fast, but we have. I love being around her. She makes me feel good, and she is funny as all hell. Though, I feel she may have some underlying issues that she doesn’t talk about.
I’ve become really good at noticing mental illness, and she ticks so many of the boxes for me. She is always moving, she picks at her nails, and she talks like no other. And it’s always a nervous talking. I know because I do it when my meds wear off. Her phone is always vibrating, and I suspect something is going on. At first, I thought it was her nanny job, but why would they call so much? Or maybe she’s a drug dealer or a sex worker. Really, she could do it all. She’s a boss chick, for sure.
“Thank you,” I say just as her phone rings. She makes a face, and finally, I have to know. “Do you have a boyfriend you haven’t mentioned who keeps calling to make sure you haven’t replaced him?”
She snorts, her dark hair in a high bun today and painted black lips. She’s wearing black shorts and a shirt with moons on it. She’s giving off a really cool, witchy vibe, and I’m digging it. “I don’t have time for a relationship. I am one busy lady.”
I smile and nod. “Yeah, you are.”
“No, actually, it’s my dad. He’s in an assisted living home. He has really bad dementia,” she explains, and my heart falls into my stomach. “He calls when he’s having a bad moment. But I took the first call today, so one of my siblings can take this one.”
Oh man. “How many siblings do you have?”
“Eight.”
“For the love of God!”
She snorts. “Yeah, I’m smack-dab in the middle, and I also have nine nieces and nephews.”
“Wow.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t talk to my three older sisters, only my older brother and my younger siblings.” The pain is all over her sweet face. As she moves the curling wand through my hair, her glossy eyes are even shinier. “It’s hard when there are issues within a family. All you want is for everyone to get along and love each other, but sometimes that doesn’t happen.”
“Yeah, that’s hard,” I say, watching her. “Is it your choice not to talk to them or theirs?”
“Oh, theirs,” she says, shaking her head. “They blame me for my mom’s death and my dad’s dementia.”
My eyes widen. “Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. It sucks.”
“I’m assuming it wasn’t your fault?”
“Not at all. They got hit by a drunk driver on the way to my softball game. Not only did I lose my parents, but I lost my love for the sport and my siblings. They like to accuse me and my ‘stupid sport,’ so I just do my part for my dad and keep it moving.”
I reach up, holding her hand. “Jean, I’m so incredibly sorry.”
She waves me off. “Thank you. But one thing I’ve learned is that life changes in an instant. There are people who love me and want to be around me. I love myself, and I love my job. I have a new friend,” she says, squeezing my hand back, and my heart swells. “And at the end of the day, I know my mom is proud of me. And if my dad could remember me, he’d be proud too.”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I am so very loved by all the members of my family, and I’ve hidden myself away from them. Jean is absolutely right. Life can change in an instant, and if it did and I lost my parents or my siblings, I’d be guilt-ridden that I hadn’t hugged them recently. That I’d spent the last year hating myself. The pain on Jean’s face, her sorrow-filled eyes—I don’t want to ever experience that pain. I know one day I will, but not now. I’m enjoying the excitement and joy I’ve been blessed with lately too much.
“Well, I’m proud of you.”
Her face changes to a sweet grin. “Thanks, Ang. I’m done.”
I look in the mirror, and I see my lips curve up into a wide grin. Instead of the tighter curls I usually have, she’s curled them into wide, luscious waves. My bangs are straight across my forehead, and with my makeup, I look incredible. “Wow, I look really good.”
“Good? Girl, you look like a queen!” She starts to look in her bag. “Maybe I’ve got a crown in here.” I laugh as she fans out my hair and smiles at me in the mirror. “Okay, now it’s time for the dress.” My stomach drops, and I can tell she knows I’m about to freak. “Come on, Angie. Go change.”