“Ugh.” I glowered at a candid photograph he’d posted of himself hugging a mind-bending building in Peru. He faced the camera, grinning that boyish smile. He looked happy.
That summer, he and his girlfriend along with another couple had taken a trip to Peru to tour the amazing architecture. Micah looked like he was having the time of his life.
He was a stranger now.
Sadness enveloped me.
“Dear God, you’re stalking him again.” Mindy’s voice right at my ear made me jump a mile.
“Fuck!” I glared at her. “You’re a sneaky ninja.”
She grinned, showing off the cute gap between her two front teeth. “No … you were just lost in your mooning again over he who shall not be named.”
I turned my phone over on the boutique checkout counter. “No, I’m not.”
My best friend gave me a knowing look. “Uh, yeah, you are. But I have just the thing to distract you.”
“Oh?”
She whipped out her phone, tapped the screen a few times, and then shoved it in my face. I stared into the smoldering, dark gaze of a very cute indie band front man-looking dude.
“His name is Ville, and he saw you on our Instagram page and is obsessed with you. He asked for your number.”
“Ville and Val. Really?”
“What? His parents are Finnish.”
“Mindy—”
“Don’t Mindy me. He’s a recent friend of Xander’s.” Xander was Mindy’s longtime boyfriend. “Xander approves of him. Says he’s a nice guy. An up-and-coming artist. They’ve shown his work in galleries. He’s not some bum, I promise.”
“Let me see his photo again.”
She grinned and practically squealed as she handed over her phone. I scrolled through his Instagram. He didn’t seem to be a poser, which was good. A lot of the photos were of his art, which was also quite good. “He’s talented.”
“Is that a ‘yes, I’ll go on a double date with you and Xander and in five years’ time thank you for setting me up with the man who gave me my babies Vilandra and Veronica’?”
I shook my head, laughing at her nonsense. “Let’s just try the double date first.”
“Whoop!” She did a little happy dance. “I’ll let Xander know. I’m in such a good mood now, I’m even going to do a stock check.”
“Wins all around.” I hated stock checking.
“I think the size 10 is a perfect fit.”
“I don’t need the 12? You’re sure?”
“You go with the size 12, you lose the shape. You have such a cute waist. Why not show it off?”
My customer smiled, uncertain. “Really?”
“That’s just my opinion. You’re the one wearing the dress, and you have to be comfortable in it.”
She sighed and turned to the mirror, studying her lush figure in the tight-fitting ’50s pencil dress. “Maybe I should try the flare dress again.”
I nodded patiently. We’d been in the changing rooms for thirty minutes trying to decide on an outfit, but it was for her ex’s wedding, so I understood—this dress needed to be perfect.
After handing her a couple of dresses that required a petticoat underneath to give that awesome ’50s prom-dress vibe, I heard the antique bell over the shop door tinkle loudly.
“I might have to disappear for a second to deal with another customer,” I told her.
“Oh, of course. You’ve been amazing.”
I walked toward the front from the changing rooms and heard a loud, female voice say, “Oh, this place is perfect. Jenny was right.”
The compliment made me smile, proud.
“We’ll definitely find something for the ’50s costume–theme dinner. I wonder if they only do women’s costumes.”
Costumes?
My smile abruptly disappeared as I strode out to see who this person was that thought my store could only possibly be a costume store.
A tall, heterosexual couple stood holding hands with their backs to me while the woman studied a silk prom dress.
“This isn’t a costume shop,” I announced to the back of their heads.
Then they turned to me.
And it felt like the shop floor disappeared out from beneath my feet.
Micah.
Standing in my store.
Holding the hand of the stunning E from his Instagram.
“You’re, like … kidding, right?” E dragged her gaze down my body and back up again. I wore a purple pencil dress with a stiff white bow attached to the low neckline. “People actually dress like this? Like, every day?”
“Elizabeth,” Micah warned.
What was he doing here? “Micah.”
“Valentine.”
“Oh, you two know each other?” Elizabeth narrowed her eyes.
Micah gave her a quick look before returning his stony stare to me. “Valentine is the Fairchilds’ daughter.”
“Oh. I almost forgot they had one.”
She knew my parents?
Anger bristled across my shoulders, but I didn’t let her see. I didn’t let him see. “How can I help you?”
Elizabeth stepped forward, her condescending gaze darting from one item to the next. “Well, we’ve been invited to a ’50s theme dinner. I’m looking for something … chic. Maybe I’m in the wrong place, though.”
“Funny, a second ago, I thought I heard you say this place was perfect.”
She gave me a shark’s grin. “Sometimes something that looks pretty at first looks a little cheap on closer inspection.”
God, he really knew how to pick ’em. “Yeah … I often think people’s souls are a lot like that. You know, beauty on the outside, a whole bunch of ugly on the inside.”
Her eyes flashed, but she shrugged. “Whatever.” A black dress I’d designed myself drew her attention. It was reminiscent of Audrey Hepburn’s famous black dress in Breakfast at Tiffany’s. “Ooh, this might be perfect.” She released Micah’s hand to hurry over to it. “Do you have this in a size 2?”
Minutes later, she’d wandered off to the changing room, dress in hand, and I was alone with Micah.
The air crackled with animosity as we glowered at each other. He was dressed stylishly in a fitted coat, dark jeans, and black ankle boots. His hair was different, shaved close at the sides, a little longer on top. He even had some fashionable stubble that I really wanted to mock but couldn’t. I didn’t mock, no matter how angry I was. Mocking was petty. When I insulted a person, the insult was direct, true, and based on my grievance with them.
I hated how good he looked.
Finally, I blurted, “Did you know this place was mine?”
He shrugged. “I’d heard something.”
The old hurt and defensiveness rose at his casual dismissal of my business. “Clearly it doesn’t meet your standards of success, but we’re doing really great, actually.”
Anger clouded his handsome face. “What the hell does ‘it doesn’t meet my standards of success’ mean?”
Oh, don’t play the innocent. “You and your catty girlfriend, coming in here and mocking it as a costume store.”