Speakeasy (True North #5)(79)

Lark tips her head back and laughs. “Nice try, babe. One of us is supposed to keep these things straight. To be honest, I’m not sure I didn’t try this one on already.”

“Oh.” Phew. I sit back down. “Maybe we need some lunch.”

At the sound of a potential customer leaving, the store owner swoops in. “Darling, that’s beautiful! But you should try the strapless version. You have the shoulders for it.”

For some reason this hits me funny. “You totally have the shoulders for it,” I agree with a straight face. “I was just thinking that.”

Is this how you talk in a bridal salon? And woe to the girl without shoulders!

As Lark’s eyes sparkle with shared humor, I realize that a month ago I wouldn’t have made that comment. I wouldn’t have admired Lark’s shoulders even in jest, because for months I’ve been too careful around her. Too fearful of being misunderstood.

It’s hard to say what flipped my switch. Maybe it’s Alec’s love. I’m sure it helped. But the passage of time helped, too, and forgiving myself for feeling resentful over someone I can never have.

I don’t pine anymore. I’ll always love Lark, but not in a way that hurts.

“I’ll just slip on the strapless one in a sec, and we’ll see if my shoulders hold up the bargain.”

“Lovely, dear.” The store owner scurries away, and we laugh almost silently, our hands in front of our mouths.

“I wish you’d just point to one and tell me it’s perfect,” she whispers. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“They’re all pretty great,” I say. “Your skin tone works with white, even in the winter. So you should just start eliminating them. Work it down to three and then turn your mother loose on them.”

“This one is too puffy,” she says, looking down.

“Boom,” I say. “Off the island.”

“Right.” She straightens up. “Thank you for coming here with me today. I didn’t realize it would take so long.”

I lean back on the pink sofa and cross my legs on the chaise. “I’m at your disposal. Now let’s see some shoulders. Chop-chop!”

Lark disappears into the dressing room, and then my phone rings. I answer it immediately, although I’m positive this is supposed to be a cell-phone-free zone. “Hello.”

“Your boy is doing great,” my brother says into my ear.

“My boy has a name.” It comes out sounding snappish. But I wasn’t expecting to hear from Griffin, and I’m a little tense.

“Easy,” he says with a chuckle. “Alec is doing great. I just stepped out to use the john, but those charts you guys put together are seriously impressive.”

“He worked hard on them.”

“I know,” Griff says gently. “That’s why I’m telling you. It’s going well.”

“Thank you. I’m just a little wound up for him.”

“I know.” He clears his throat. “Listen, I’m sorry I’ve been a dick about Alec. I was caught off guard. You guys seem happy.”

Huh. I did not expect an apology from my brother. “We are happy. And he’s a good guy. But the thing is—I can figure these things out for myself. When you’re a grump to Alec or when you and Mom make comments about Daniela, you’re slamming me, too. I’m tired of being treated like a child or a hot mess. Nobody ever speaks that way to you.”

“I know,” he says with a sigh. “I’m sorry. I just get really pissy when someone fucks with my family. They should really know better.”

Now I’m smiling into my phone. “Mostly they do. You’re not going to go psycho on your baby’s preschool class if someone grabs her toy away, are you?”

“I might,” he says, and I laugh.

“Her boyfriends are going to be terrified of you,” I point out.

“Do you know something I don’t?” Griffin and Audrey haven’t asked the doctor for the sex of their baby.

“Nope. Just a hunch.”

“Maybe she won’t have boyfriends,” Griff says. “I think I’d rather she had girlfriends.”

This makes me snort. “Even after you met mine?”

“Yeah. I need my daughter to date someone smaller than me. So I can intimidate him or her.”

It’s a struggle to keep my laughter quiet. Also, I don’t think Griffin ever met Daniela’s ex, Tracy. Who’d win that cage match?

I’m practically hysterical here in the bridal salon.

“I’d better get back in there,” Griff says.

“Okay!” I agree, wiping tears from my eyes. “You tell my boy to call me as soon as it’s over.”

“He has a name,” Griff says, and I laugh again.

“Bye, meathead.”

“Bye, hot mess.”

When I hang up, I’m still smiling.





Lark and I, having survived the bridal shop, are eating fish tacos at a hole-in-the-wall. It was the first place we spotted, and dress shopping is hungry work.

“Give me that,” she says, reaching across the table and taking my phone.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t mind being ignored. But you’re so twitchy over there.”