I lifted my head, but Theo was already nearly out of my room.
Two women came in after him, carrying various weapons of beauty. They tittered back and forth as they pulled and curled and pinned my hair. They applied layer upon layer of makeup, until the girl in the mirror was shielded under makeup and hairspray.
I watched Theo’s back in the mirror, wishing he would look at me. I just wanted to fix it. I expected anger. I hoped for anger, but he acts like I don’t exist.
I’d found his mother. How the fuck do I tell him I’d found his mother when he won’t look at me for more than two seconds?
“You’re going to be the most beautiful girl there,” one of them said as they finished packing up their supplies.
I wondered if they’d met my sister—oh, they probably said that to everyone.
They commented on how stunning my dress was, then left. It was hanging up against a tall, arched window. The golden lattices on the window shone through the white fabric, making it look a little mystical.
I still didn’t have Story back, which meant I was once again dressing myself. My dress was a thin, shimmering gauzy material matching the flowing fabric of skirt that fell off my shoulders. It flowed like air and fell like water. I finished off the look with my handmade translucent sea glass earrings with rose gold adornments. They were small and added enough pop without overpowering.
I touched my lobes, wondering if they would keep me intact.
All I needed to do was tie silky white laces at the back of my dress.
Laces.
I glanced out my open door, where half of Theo’s body was usually visible standing guard. All day his hands had been behind his back, the soft material of his shirt clinging to broad shoulders and defined muscles, but now he was curiously absent.
I found him by the fold-out, holding his mother’s diary, but he was just staring at it. It wasn’t even open. I felt like I’d just walked in on something too intimate and immediately stepped back—but ran into the wall.
He turned his head at the noise, quickly shoving the book away.
&nbs
p; Silence stretched.
Finally, I said what I’d come out for in the first place.
“I need your help.”
I could see the objection forming on his face, so I tried to stop it: “Please.”
He came inside my room and waited for me to put on my dress. His wary eyes transmuted when they saw me. I felt naked. How could he do that with just a look? I rubbed my arm.
His stare traveled to the plunging neck, where the built-in corset was encased in white lace. My long hair had been pulled up, and he looked like he wanted to rip it out and tangle it and get it messy.
“Is that held up by magic?” he asked roughly.
“That… and sophisticated sewing.” I swallowed and turned around, exposing my naked back with its undone laces. “Lace me up?”
He walked to me, fingers finding my laces. I tried not to jump at his touch, but I couldn’t control the goose bumps.
It was too quiet. His touch was too gentle.
“Are you writing something naughty back there?” I teased, but my voice shook.
“Maybe.” I swear I heard a smile in his voice. It gave me hope, like the first bloom after a cold, desolate winter.
He finished.
An awkward silence weeded around us, then he nodded his head like he was going to leave and go stand guard.
“Wait!”