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I swallow. Doesn’t look good, and lying about it won’t solve the situation. “Maybe we should take you to the ER.”
“ER? At this time? I don’t think it’s that bad,” Mom objects.
“That’s because it’s not your forehead, Mom,” Leslie says, impatience in her voice.
“If I may say something. We’ve had things like this happen to a couple of kids at the daycare I manage. I don’t think you’re concussed, but if you want to go to the ER, that’s totally valid too,” Sylvie says.
Leslie sighs. “Thanks. Can they find a surgeon and remove this thing?”
"Honey, don’t be ridiculous. You don’t need surgery. Even if you did, you wouldn’t want a surgeon whose reputation you don't know to touch you days before the wedding," Mom says. She has a point.
“What if you get bangs?” Sylvie erases the distance between her and Leslie, her attention fixed on my sister's forehead. She plays with her hair a little and steps back. “Hear me out. You can get some bangs tomorrow morning, and I bet they’ll hide the bump. It’s close enough to your hairline. The swelling should go down a little by the morning, and the bangs will help.”
“But I already did my bridal hair trial and everything. Maurice is flying in.”
“You can tweak it.”
“I don’t know… Let me see it again,” Leslie says, stretching out her hand and searching for her phone.
Mother gives Leslie her iPhone, and she uses the camera app to zoom in on her face. “It’s ridiculous.”
“Keep icing it. You’ll be okay. Bangs will solve it,” Sylvie says reassuringly.
Leslie shifts in the chair and tilts her head as if considering the option. “Do you think I can pull off bangs?”
“Yes. You’ll look great.”
“You’re not just being nice, right?” Leslie squints her eyes.
Sylvie smiles. “No, because if I suggest bangs and they’re a bad choice, you’ll hate me for at least six months. And I wouldn’t want that.”
Six months.
I know Sylvie is joking, but our deal doesn’t extend beyond the wedding getaway. Where will she be in six months? Realization dawns on me. I don’t know what she’ll be doing then unless I find a way to convince her to stay with me forever.
12
Sylvie
I dry myself off with the fluffy towel and throw it over the rack.
Clouds of steam cover the big round mirror, and in the dim light, I look for the silky cobalt nightgown I brought into the ensuite bathroom when I told Grey I wanted to shower.
After the mishap with his sister, I needed a few minutes to myself, and the hot water helped me focus.
His family is so lovely.
Leslie was so welcoming to me. I can tell he hasn't brought anyone here since his divorce. Sure, he's told me that, but it's different when I realize it's true.
Has our time together been a lie? Has coming here meant nothing to him?
I draw in a breath and shimmy into the gown. Why does it matter? He's been honest since the beginning. Why would it change? Unless, of course, he feels as strongly about our connection as I do.
I shake my head. I came here to fulfill my end of the bargain. I forgot not to get attached to the one man who’s out of my league… and that’s the lesson that will screw me over.
No. Grey will screw me. Soon. Hopefully, very soon.
I’ll show myself that I can do this. I’m not getting attached—infatuated, yes. How could I not? But I can’t be that naïve. Right?
