I pulled a pillow from behind me and slid it over my face.
“Dani. You have to call him. You can’t just show up.”
“Why not? I actually think my odds are better if I do. I mean, he can’t refuse me if I’m standing on his porch with a suitcase.”
“Yes, he totally can. And that would be a lot more embarrassing.”
“He wouldn’t do it. He’s my brother. Even if all he can offer is a couch, he can’t leave me out in the cold.”
“Especially as ferocious as the winters are in Charleston. You’d definitely freeze to death.”
I rolled my eyes. “Shut up.”
“Want to know why I think you won’t call him?”
I peeked an eye out from behind the pillow. “Why?”
She sat up, pulling the pillow off my face and holding it in her lap, her legs crossed under her. She cleared her throat. “Even though you doubt whether or not Isaac will let you move in, you feel one hundred percent confident that Alex will not let him turn you out. He will advocate for you no matter what. And that makes you happy, because Alex, but also angry and annoyed and frustrated, because Alex. Alex who is still firmly on your hate list and therefore not able to do anything nice for you. Or be in any place where he might try to further convince you that he’s actually very sorry for hurting you so thoroughly because, again, hate list. You pointed out the fact that he was actually right about Sasha and you were wrong but knowing it doesn’t make it burn any less, so that’s still an issue. To make things even more complicated, a part of you wants to go to Isaac’s because Alex is there and you still, maybe, a tiny bit love him. If you call and ask and Isaac says no? Then there’s no possibility of an Alex and Dani future. And you like the idea of a possibility.”
I sat up. “Are you seriously some sort of a crazy-pants, mind-reading genie?”
She grinned. “I am exactly that. At least when it comes to you.”
I sighed. “I don’t know about all the Alex and Dani future stuff. That . . . feels like too much for my heart to process. But you’re right that he will make Isaac be nice to me.”
“Yes. Yes, he will,” Paige said.
“And I will have to tell him the truth about Sasha.”
“Yes. Yes, you will.”
I groaned. “I hate Sasha.”
“Oh, me too. Maybe even more than you do.”
I was lucky that was all Paige had to say about Sasha. She’d handled the theft of her wedding dress better than I’d expected.
“Hey, before we start packing again, I need to tell you something.” She sounded serious enough, I started to worry.
“Okay.”
She winced. “My mom made me buy a back-up dress.”
I froze. “A what?”
“Please don’t be mad. I had every faith in your ability to make me a dress, but Mom wasn’t so sure. The last time I was in Charleston, we went shopping and I bought another dress. Just in case.”
It maybe shouldn’t have stung so badly. It wasn’t Paige’s idea. But after all I’d been through, it felt like one emotional blow too many.
“Wow.”
“It was long before you finished yours, Dani. And it isn’t half as pretty, I promise. Nothing is as gorgeous as that dress. I’m only telling you now because I don’t want you to have to worry about making me another one.”
I was worried about making her another one. I’d been counting yards of fabric and lace and cataloging pearl buttons all afternoon trying to see if I had enough to duplicate the first dress. I didn’t, not by a long shot. And since the lace I’d used had been a vintage remnant, the likelihood of finding the same pattern was slim. If I had access to LeFranc’s resources, I could probably find someone to duplicate it, but that would take weeks. And dollars. And connections I no longer had. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t make it again with different lace. “I have to at least try.”
“I know you could make me another dress, and I love you for that,” Paige said. “But I kind of feel like you’re going to have your hands full these next few months. I want you to focus on figuring your stuff out. If that means I don’t get a dress, I don’t want you to worry. Plus, it’s my fault we lost the dress in the first place. If I hadn’t foisted it on Sasha, we might not be in the mess.”
I dropped back down onto the bed with a huff. She was right. As much as I wanted to do it, remaking her wedding dress really couldn’t be at the top of my priority list. At least not higher than Find a place to live and a way to support myself. I reached over and grabbed Paige’s hand. “You’re a good friend, Paige.”
“I am not. I’m the one that got you in this mess in the first place. I have no right to be mad.”
I squeezed her fingers. “You looked stunning in that dress. I’ll never forget how perfect it was.”
“Me neither.” She sighed.
“I still hate your Mom.”
“She never should have doubted you,” Paige said. “Come on. Buck up. You’ve got lots to pack before tomorrow morning.”
“How about you do it for me?” I whimpered. I sounded like a toddler, but I was past caring. And Paige would love me anyway.
“Eight in the morning, right? Is that when Chase is coming with the trailer?” Classic Paige. She was nothing if not unfailingly optimistic. She always had been. Which is why she was so good at counteracting my tendency to wallow in my bad moods. Forward motion, she always said. Just keep moving forward and eventually you’ll get somewhere.
I let her pull me off the bed. “Yeah. I guess Darius says there’s room in his mom’s driveway, so it can stay there for a couple of weeks until Chase can drive it down.”
“He’s really looking out for you, isn’t he?”
I nodded. “He’s also a good friend.”
Paige put her hands on her hips and surveyed the room. “You do shoes, I do sweaters?”
I groaned. “Fine. But we’re getting gelato when we’re done.”
Chapter Sixteen
Alex
Dani and Isaac’s childhood home was in a community just north of the city. Wide sidewalks and large, looming oaks gave the neighborhood an idyllic feel that was entirely different from downtown. History was nice, but so was space. And houses less than two hundred years old.
“Is all this land yours?” I asked Isaac as he unlocked the front door of the home.
He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. All the way back to the river. It’s not much—just over an acre—but that’s more than you’ll find in most neighborhoods around here.”
I stifled a laugh. “Did you know that in Manhattan, there’s an average of one hundred and thirteen people per acre?”
“What? Like, living there?”
I nodded, following him inside as he flipped on the lights in the entryway. “We’re spoiled down here in the South.”
Isaac grinned. “You don’t have to convince me.”
“The contractor should be here any minute, but I want to go out to the garage. I think there’s another box of records I never moved.”