Page 108 of The Next Lie

“I’m asking,” I say.

She looks at me.

“If that is what you need, then I am asking. Do you want to belong here?”

Her face crumples for half a second before she saves it.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Honest answer. Painful answer.

I nod. “Then we start there.”

Her laugh comes out broken. “With pants?”

“With pants. Underwear. That sweater you are currently strangling. Small foundations, darling.”

She looks down at her hand and loosens her grip on the sweater.

“This is ridiculous,” she says.

“Little bit, yeah.”

“I’m crying over clothes.”

“You are crying because feelings are assholes, and love is inconvenient.”

She wipes under one eye with the heel of her hand. “You did not just say love.”

“I say many reckless things.”

“Shiloh.”

The warning in her voice is fragile enough to step around.

I reach for the garment bag and unzip it. “This one is indulgent.”

“Define indulgent.”

“Unnecessary. Beautiful. Likely to make Nash swallow his tongue. Ever has already swallowed his tongue, so he’ll just walk around with a stiffy.”

She snorts.

I pull out the dress. Black, simple, cut to skim and reveal but with excellent manners. Not for Noir Night. Not for hiding. For Reva, if she ever wants to look in a mirror and see something other than survival.

She touches the fabric. Her lips press together.

“Too much?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No, it’s…hot.”

“Good. I bullied a woman named Patrice for it.”

“You bullied a saleswoman?”

“Well…I charmed her aggressively.”

“That sounds illegal.”