My phone rang at eight o’clock Saturday morning, rousing me from a deliciously wicked dream starring Leo and me and, strangely enough, unicorns. I didn’t have time to ponder the meaning of that, though, because my sister was calling.
“Hello?” My voice was rough with sleep.
“Hey, what happened to you last night?”
I nearly got laid. “Nothing, why? What did you hear?”
“I didn’t hear anything, but all of a sudden you were just gone. Dad went looking for you.”
“Oh, he found me.”
“Where did you go?”
I could hear all kinds of voices in the background of her call. She must be out and about town.
“I just came home. I was tired, and everybody was dancing, and my shoes were killing me, and my dress was too tight.”
“You should have just taken your shoes off. You missed a great reception.” She sounded personally wounded by my lack of fun-sense.
“I was there for a lot of it, but like I said, I was exhausted. Besides, I have to start planning your wedding shower.” I knew bringing that up would steer the conversation away from me running into Leo. I’m not sure why I didn’t want to tell her what had happened. I guess I wanted to keep it my happy little secret for as long as I could. Of course, that was assuming my father wouldn’t spill the beans to her or my grandmother. For once his monosyllabic personality might come in handy.
“Oh, we’ve got plenty of time to talk about showers and such. Did you know Leo was back?”
I rubbed my eyes. “Um, I did know that. How did you know?”
“I just saw him getting coffee at Joe’s Cuppa Joe. He’s gone now, but I’m still here. Want to come have a latte with me?”
“I’m still in bed. How about you get me a latte and come here?”
“Done. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
She was there in nine, which gave me just enough time to brush my teeth, wash my face, and coax my big, wild hair into a ponytail. I opened the door and she all but scowled at me.
“What the hell are you wearing?” She stepped inside with a whoosh of cold air.
I looked down to see my fuzzy gorilla slippers and my favorite pajamas, which were mint green and covered with dalmatian puppies playing cards and roller-skating. “Pajamas. I told you I was still in bed.”
She set the drinks on the table near the front door and shrugged out of her jacket, tossing it to the nearby chair. “You know, whenever I’m at the store and I see those types of pajamas with the goofy stuff all over them, I always wonder who buys them. Now I know.”
I picked up a cup with one hand, managing to flip her off at the same time. “I love these pajamas. They’re soft, and Gigi gave them to me for Christmas.”
“What year?”
“Shut up. Did you just come over here to insult me? Shouldn’t you be in a better mood than this? You just got engaged.”
A smile split her face and she hugged me, nearly spilling my latte.
“I am engaged. Isn’t it wonderful? Can you believe it? See, I told you that things work out sometimes. If you’d told me last summer that Ryan and I would be in this place, I never would have believed it.” She grabbed her own coffee and plopped down on my sofa.
I pulled a throw blanket from the back of a striped chair and wrapped it around my shoulders before settling in next to her. “I could see it coming from a mile away. You two are nauseatingly adorable together.” In spite of my left-handed compliment, I was feeling happy for them. In the light of day, with the memory of Leo’s kisses still on my lips, I was free to fully embrace their joy. “I think he’s perfect for you, and I love how much he loves you and Chloe.”
She reached over and squeezed my hand with the sparkle of a happy tear in her eye. “I know. I’m so lucky, and Chloe is over the moon. Ryan is going to be such a good dad to her. They get along so well, and God knows her own father was never any good.” Chloe’s father was Emily’s first husband, a guy who should have had I’m a mistake tattooed across his forehead.
“Have you set a date?”
“In the spring, probably. And of course, we’ll have it on the island. Ryan’s family will have to fly in from Sacramento, but they can afford it. It might be kind of awkward, though.” Her expression dimmed.
“Awkward? Why?”
She kicked off her shoes and pulled the edge of my blanket over to cover her feet. “I talked to Lilly last night,” she said.
Lilly was our twenty-seven-year-old sister, who was currently shacking up with Ryan’s father. Handsome and fit, he was a young sixty, but I admit it was a relationship I didn’t begin to understand.
“I think she and Tag may be having trouble,” Emily added. “I’m not sure, but something about her seemed odd on the phone.”
“Maybe she’s thinking it’s time Tag proposed to her?” That would be weird in so many ways, not to mention making me truly and completely the spinster Callaghan sister.
But Emily shook her head. “No. I asked Ryan about it, but he said that everything was fine, as far as he knew. If they were having trouble, I guess I wouldn’t be surprised. I mean, we all kind of figured that relationship had an expiration date on it. I just hope it doesn’t make things strange at my wedding.”
“I’ll give her a call today and see if I can find out anything. I haven’t talked to her in a couple of weeks, anyway. She did send me some pictures of her and Tag riding camels in Morocco. They looked pretty happy to me, but I guess it’s easy to be happy if you’re on vacation all the time. Maybe he’s getting tired of traveling.”
“Hmm, maybe,” Emily mused, then lit up again. “Hey, guess who was at the coffee shop besides Leo.”
“Ryan Reynolds? Ryan Gosling? Oprah?”
“Unfortunately, no, no, and no. But that creepy little private investigator was there. You were not wrong about him. He’s gross.”
“Bill Smith of B.S. Investigations? That guy?”
“How many private investigators do you think we have wandering around here? Of course it was Bill Smith. But the weird thing was that he wasn’t asking anyone any questions. He was just sitting there drinking his coffee.”
“Really? All by himself?”
“Yeah. I thought at first he might be waiting to meet somebody, but I was there for almost fifteen minutes and he didn’t approach anyone. Then I got distracted by seeing Leo. He is maximus hottimus, by the way. You should seriously consider giving that a try.”
I tried to hide behind my cup but felt my telltale blush stealing over my cheeks. My sister pounced.
“Wait a second! Do you have something you need to tell me?”
“I would’ve had a hell of a lot more to tell you if Dad hadn’t come busting in here last night.” I couldn’t stop myself from laughing, even as my skin flushed with embarrassment over the whole debacle.
“Oh no! What happened?”
I filled her in, leaving nothing out, not even the fact that my dress had been halfway to my waist when Harlan arrived. She laughed far more than she should have, but in the end, I joined her. It was funny. Mostly funny.
“So I assume you’ll be seeing him again?”
“He’s taking me out to dinner in a couple of days,” I said, feeling a sudden wave of shyness overtake me. “But honestly, Emily, I’m just not sure how far to take this. He just had a job interview in Washington, DC, which means he might only be here another couple of weeks. If that job falls through, there will be another. He could end up on the other side of the country. I know I need to be less guarded, and learn to trust guys who’ve earned it, but if I’m going to take that risk, if I’m going to invest my time and emotions into someone, shouldn’t it be with somebody who at least has the potential to be permanent?”
“I suppose, but you like him, right?”
“Of course I like him. I wouldn’t bother thinking about this if I didn’t like him. That’s half the problem. I like him too much. If I just wanted a fling, fine. I’d have a fling. But the more time I spend with him, the harder it will be when he leaves.”
My sister gazed over at me, her expression gentle. “Brooke, you and I are not exactly wired the same way, and I can’t say that jumping into bed with Chloe’s dad before we got married was a great idea. But jumping into bed with Ryan was a huge risk, too, and now look at us. Engaged!”
Her grin returned and she flashed her ring at me, making us both laugh.
“That rock is gloriously ostentatious. You could direct freighters through the fog with that thing. How many carats is it, anyway?”
She held her hand out and gazed at the ring, rotating her wrist to make the stone catch the sunlight. “I don’t know. Seems like it might sound a little mercenary to ask Ryan how much he shelled out for this bauble.”
“Aren’t you curious?” I was certainly curious.
“Oh hell yes, but once we’re married I’m sure I can find the receipt!” We laughed again.
“What if you find out it’s a cubic zirconia?” I teased.
“I’m pretty sure it’s not. Ryan told me it was designed by the guy his mother got all her jewelry from, and my impression is that she had pretty expensive taste.”
“So, no off-the-rack ring for you, huh? You’d better not lose it. Or let the jewel thief swipe it.”
“No kidding, and speaking of off the rack, we need to get Lilly back here so we can all go wedding-dress shopping. Oh, and since we’re talking weddings, I should make this official. Will you be my maid of honor?”
“Me?” I felt a swell of tenderness and sisterly affection. I thought for sure she’d ask Lilly, or one of her friends from the island. But I was the chosen one. It felt overwhelmingly good. It made up for the fact that my dad, and Chloe, and Tag, and Lilly had all known about the engagement before me. “Of course I will. I’d be thrilled.” I leaned over for a clumsy hug, but the blanket and the lattes in our hands did not cooperate.
“Hug me later,” she said, pushing me away as I nearly dumped my latte in her lap. “But tell me now, what are you going to do about Leo?”
I leaned back against the cushion, tucking the blanket back in around my very stylish pajamas. “I have no idea.”
“Well, I say go for it. What have you got to lose?”
“Um . . . my heart. Like I said, what if I start to really care about him and then he leaves?”
“Is that worse than ending it now and never knowing what might have been? I know you, Brooke. You’re going to overthink this. Don’t think about it. Just feel it. Trust your gut. If you want to roll around with Leo, then roll around with Leo. For God’s sake, if Gigi can take a lover, you should, too.”
I smiled. “Leo says sometimes you have to just jump without knowing where you’ll land.”
Emily smiled. “Exactly, but I bet if you jump right now, you’ll land on him. How bad could that be? Now get dressed, because you and I are heading over to Manitou for mani-pedis and maybe a little shopping. I want to buy some bridal magazines, and you need a nice outfit for your next date. And for gosh sakes, let’s find a Victoria’s Secret over there so we can get you some pretty underwear and some new pajamas!”
“Why are you so certain I don’t already have pretty underwear and sexy pajamas?”
Her expression said it all.
“Okay.” I nodded. “You’re right. We’d better go shopping.”
“I’ve never actually been to Victoria’s Secret before,” I admitted to Emily as we walked into the store full of pink walls and glimmering chandeliers. She stopped in her tracks and looked at me like I’d just admitted to an alien abduction.
“Never? Where do you get your lingerie? Oh, wait. I’ve seen your pajamas. You get your sleepwear at the Disney Store. But what about your bras and underwear?”
“Target.”
I could almost feel the effort it took for her to resist a snarky remark. She patted my shoulder instead.
“Well, that’s very practical of you . . . however, some events call for a little something special.”
“Can I get a package of ten panties for ten dollars here? Because I can at Target.” Now I was just messing with her. My underwear wasn’t that bad, but I did enjoy watching her lips press into a straight line.
“Probably not, but you’re just going to have to trust me on this, okay? Time to splurge a little.”
A perky brunette salesgirl with even perkier breasts popped up beside me, waving a bottle of perfume at my face.
“Spritz?” she asked, and then spritzed before I had a chance to answer. I coughed my way through the cloud, waving my hand.
Another salesgirl popped up beside Emily. Actually, she didn’t pop so much as she materialized. Her skin was dark, her hair was natural, and she wore sparkly gold eyeliner that made her look like a princess. Her breasts were perky, too. I suspect that is a job requirement, but really, hers were remarkable. If she could sell me a bra that did that to my girls, count me in.
“Are you shopping for anything in particular, ladies?” Her voice had a husky quality and she exuded sex appeal, even though her outfit of jeans and a formfitting pink T-shirt was very modest. How did women do that? Send out that I’m powerful yet utterly feminine vibe? The only thing I’d ever exuded was something that attracted mosquitoes.
“She’s going to need to get measured,” Emily said, pushing my shoulder. Then her voice lowered as she leaned toward the beautiful salesgirl. “She’s been buying her bras at Target.”
They exchanged a glance, prompting me to straighten my shoulders and stick out my boobs. My Target bras were fine, but the salesgirl’s sympathetic smile was all oh, honey! She pulled a tape measure from her pocket and had it wrapped about my torso faster than I could say 34B. I started to perspire. It wasn’t at all awkward standing in the middle of the crowded store with my arms up as she adjusted the tape around my breasts. I’d had pelvic exams that were less invasive, but I felt slightly better when she murmured that I was a 34C instead of a B.
She showed us around after that, telling me the difference between lined and unlined (which was pretty obvious) and the difference between push-up and demi and full-coverage. There were wireless, and underwire, and T-shirt bras, and strapless, front-close, and racerback, and something called a bralette. Then she talked about thongs, and briefs, and hipsters, and bikinis, and something called boy-shorts. So many variations. Seriously. I was thirty-six years old and I had no idea. There was a whole underworld of unmentionables that no one had ever mentioned to me.
“How have you never heard of boy-shorts?” Emily asked as we stepped into the dressing room, which very much resembled the lobby of a 1920s brothel. Or so I imagined. I set my purse down on the furry white bench next to the huge gilded mirror and slipped out of my jacket.
“I don’t know,” I answered. “I guess it’s because I learned all about bra shopping from Gigi. After Mom died, if I needed that kind of thing, she took me to Target.”
“She took me to Target and Walmart and Kmart, too, but I still figured out to shop for nice underwear at a nice underwear store.”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Emily. I guess pretty underwear always seemed like an extravagance to me. We didn’t have that much money, and I didn’t have all sorts of guys trying to get a look at mine like you did.”
She set her purse down and frowned. “I’m not sure if that was a compliment or an insult.”
“It was a compliment. Guys notice you. They don’t notice me. Not usually.”
She stared at me for a second. “See, here’s the thing, Brooke. They do notice you. You just don’t notice them noticing you, and so you assume they’re not interested. The good news is, this pretty underwear isn’t for them, anyway. It’s for you. Even if you’re the only one who sees it. You deserve it. Now, let’s get you out of that very serviceable Maidenform brassiere and into something a little sexier.”
We left the store an hour later, and I had more than doubled my bra collection. I could hardly wait to get home and throw away all my old stuff. The old panties were going, too, because now I had stuff that was lacy, silky, and even beribboned. I’d gotten some practical colors, like white and beige, but Emily had also talked me into stuff that was hot pink, red, black, and patterned with flowers and stripes and polka dots. She’d even managed to talk me into buying a silky little nightie and matching robe that I was pretty sure I’d never wear. The quasi-feminist in me thought push-up bras and lacy underpants perpetuated a sexist agenda. But then I tried them on, and damn if they didn’t make me feel pretty. And maybe, just maybe, even a little sexy. It felt wonderful to splurge, to indulge myself this way, because I virtually never did. It wasn’t that I was a martyr or something. It just never occurred to me to spend time and money on these kinds of things. I spent my money on school supplies and stuff for my house. Today, all that changed. I was officially now the kind of woman who wore pretty underwear. But I drew the line at the garter belt Emily and the salesgirl had tried to talk me into. Yes, I was feeling about ten times sexier than I’d felt yesterday, but there was simply no way I’d be able to pull that off, metaphorically speaking.
After Victoria’s Secret we visited a handful of clothing stores, where my sister continued to pile item after item into my arms.
“Are you working on commission?” I finally asked.
She ignored that. “The stuff you have is fine for teaching, and it’s even fine for city council meetings, but you need some stuff that shows off your assets, now that your new bras have moved your assets up where they need to be,” Emily said instead, tossing five more shirts into my dressing room at the trendy boutique we’d discovered right behind Stella’s Pizzeria.
By the end of the day, I had new jeans, several cute tops, a collection of belts, scarves, and jewelry, and two pairs of new shoes. Shoes that actually fit. My debit card was sizzling, I was exhausted, and I also felt happier than I had in ages. I think I finally understood what people meant by retail therapy.