The Chemistry of Love(58)

Time flew by as I discussed color theory with Jen and tried to avoid Andi’s questions, since each answer seemed to horrify her more than the one before it. Gloria brought outfits and dresses over for me to say yes or no to, and that worried me. It felt like a test that I was about to fail by giving her the wrong answer.

The three women were all well acquainted and spent a lot of the time talking about photo shoots they’d done together, and it entertained me. I also found that I was enjoying being pampered. I could definitely get used to this.

Andi had me rinse off in the kitchen sink, where she washed, conditioned, rinsed again, and then brought me back to the chair.

“Do you own a hair dryer?” she asked.

“This seems like a trap.”

“I’m going to take that as a no. You’ll need to buy a big barrel curling iron. I think learning how to blow dry and roller brush at the same time might be a bit more involved than you’re used to.”

Jen showed me application techniques over and over again, and she would wipe all the makeup off and have me do it over until she felt satisfied that I could re-create what she had shown me. “I’m keeping it really basic. You have such great bone structure and pretty skin that there’s no reason to pile it on.”

“Are the compliments part of the service or do those cost me extra?” I asked.

That made her laugh. She had laid out twelve different brand-new Minx lipsticks for me. “There should be one for each of your new outfits.” She and Gloria had been consulting on that for the last hour or so.

“Okay. How do I know which one goes with which?”

“Good point. I’m going to label them for you.”

Andi turned on the hair dryer at that point and loudly told me how to re-create what she was doing by using the curling iron I was supposed to get. I wished I had a notebook to take notes.

Jen shouted over the noise, “I’ll write down Andi’s instructions for you,” as if she could read my mind.

Or maybe she just recognized the necessity of doing so.

My hair was finished, and Andi turned me around to the small mirror that Jen and I had been using. It looked nice. Blonder at the bottom, but I didn’t hate it like I thought I might. It actually made me feel a bit prettier. It hung down to my shoulders so that I could still pull it back if I wanted to.

“My turn,” Gloria said, pulling me out of my seat. She had set up a screen and handed me clothes. “Try these on.”

It took a long time to put everything on and listen to the opinions of the three women as to what should stay or go.

Then Gloria handed me a satiny red dress.

“It’s a cocktail dress,” Jen said. “Never mind. I’ll write it down.”

“That’s an A-line, V-neck, knee-length chiffon dress,” Gloria corrected Jen.

It took me a second to put it on. There were lines that made an X across my shoulder blades and a pretty bow at the back of my waist. I came out, and the three women smiled, even Gloria. Jen actually applauded.

“That’s the one,” Andi said.

“Clothes always hang so well on tall women,” Gloria commented, like she was personally responsible for my height.

“Twirl around,” Jen commanded, and I did. The dress spun out in a big circle around me.

“You’ll want to make sure you wear underwear with this one,” Gloria said, which concerned me. In what scenario would I be wearing this dress but not underwear?

“I wish I could see it,” I said.

Andi pointed toward Marco’s bedroom. “I would bet good money he has a full-length mirror in there.”

Good point. I almost skipped over to his bedroom door and then knocked.

“Come in!” he called out.

I opened the door and stepped into the room. He was lying in the middle of his bed, and there was an infinitesimal part of me that urged me to run over and join him.

I refrained.

He lay there on his side with his laptop in front of him, holding a pen in his mouth.

The pen fell from his mouth a second later as he sat straight up.

“Anna . . . wow.”

“What?” I asked, immediately suspicious that I had sat in makeup or gotten some hair dye on the dress.

“You look . . . nice.”

Nice? Nice didn’t merit a wow. Now I felt a little uncomfortable and put a hand over my stomach. Why say something flattering and then backtrack it to nice? “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“I get it. You wanted to see what a clean bedroom looks like.”

His room was very tidy. His bed was even made.

“Ha ha. Are you trying to tell me you did this all by yourself?” From his sheepish grin I guessed, “A housekeeper? I could keep my room clean if I had a housekeeper.”

“Doubtful.”

I had no comeback to that, as he was not incorrect.

“Did you want to show me your dress? If you’re looking for my opinion, it’s a yes.”

“No. I came in to see if you have a full-length mirror.”

“In the bathroom,” he said, pointing toward a door. I walked over to open it, and he had a bathroom that could rival a day spa. Gleaming tile, a brilliant white soaker tub, a shower big enough to fit six people. Of course.

I found the mirror hung on the outside of his closet door and walked in front of it.