“Where’s my clip at?”
He hands it to me.
“Ivan, you broke it.”
“Good, I hate when your hair is up. I prefer it down.”
“It’s a pain in the ass when it’s down,” I grumble, hoping I have a backup clip in my bag.
Ivan’s phone beeps, he hits a button. “What?”
“Gemma is calling, said she’s called your phone five times, it’s an emergency. It’s about your mother.”
I’m almost to the door. Ivan sighs, he shakes his head at me. “Go on, love. Close the door, please.”
I want to argue, worried at what might be wrong with his mother, but I don’t dare.
***
Christina
Tim does a good job of pretending he didn’t hear anything, but I’m not doing a good job in the slightest of pretending I’m not worried. Ivan hasn’t taken any calls since Gemma called. I watched his line, and he was on the call for almost a half hour. He sent an email to me and Tim saying hold calls until he said otherwise and to clear his calendar for the rest of the day.
Almost ten minutes ago he sent me a message telling me I would be going shopping alone. But he was adamant I should still go. I didn’t even hesitate to say okay. I wasn’t going to argue with him.
When the time comes, Tim tells me Lawrence is waiting for me downstairs. I send Anna a text letting her know I can’t do lunch after all. She laid into me the last time I forgot. While she was happy for me hooking up with Ivan, it was not cool to leave her hanging. Her frowny face is followed by a back and forth of her suggestions on what I should buy.
Shopping isn’t nearly as much fun as I thought it would be when I spend the whole time worried about Ivan. Lydia does her best to draw me out of my mood, picking the sexiest dresses that go against every one of Ivan’s commandments of no slits up the side, short skirt, or cleavage on display.
I don’t pick all the ones she selected but enough to poke him, just a little. There are still a bunch of the dress styles he wanted me to wear, especially considering the fiancé’s conservative culture. When we are done the bill is so large I shudder.
Lydia laughs. “Hey, all we are doing is following orders.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not intimidating as hell,” I mutter as I lift my hair off my neck, overheated after leaving it down because the clip kept getting caught while I was changing.
“So, all of this is for the whole meet and greet of his family?”
“Yeah, I tried arguing but he knows me too well. The idea of being around a bunch of people with a fuck ton of money is stress-inducing. I’ve come a long way thanks to Ivan’s repeated, whole-hearted love of my body, but the idea of my fat ass around all the rich, skinny bitches in Prada and G&B had me closing my mouth and following orders.”
“Hmm...in that case, can I make a suggestion, and you please understand it’s from a place of wanting to help and not take offense?”
Our first shopping experience already solidified Lydia would never hurt another person’s feelings if she could avoid it, so I nod.
“I have a great relationship with a spa I think you should spend some time at. Let them give you a facial, clean up your eyebrows a little, get a manicure and pedicure and give you a haircut.
“Your hair is beautiful but it’s too long for you to show it off the way you should—trust me, I know. Mine used to be almost as long. If you were to cut off four or five inches you would still have hair past your shoulders, but you could actually style it, not spend your days battling it.”
I consider her words. I’ve had two manicures and pedicures and stopped because Abuelo thought it was a waste of money. I’m so sick of this hair. “Yes, please.”
She pulls a card out of her pocket. “I called them when we stopped for a potty break. Leave now and you’ll make the appointment I set for you.”
I give her a hug. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Have fun meeting the fam. I would wish you good luck, but you don’t
need it. Between that ring and the whole one-eighty the man has turned in the last week, they’ll be falling all over themselves to welcome you into the fold.”
“How do you know about the one-eighty?”