Wife Number Seven (The Compound, #1)(63)

Leandra’s hands pressed into her hips as she glowered at me. I raised my chin in defiance, showing her I would not back down to her. Not anymore.

Instead of protesting, however, she simply offered a dismissive wave of her hand. “No. The other wives will pitch in.”

“Thank you.”

“Be home by lunch tomorrow.”

“All right,” I answered, turning to walk away from my scowling sister wife.

“That’s not a request,” she snapped. “I expect you to be here when lunch is served.”

Keep sweet. She’s not worth it. Keep sweet. She’s not worth it.

“Yes, Leandra.”

Smoke filled the kitchen and Leandra shouted, “Rebecca, your eggs are burning! Honestly, girl, they are the easiest things to cook! How do you manage to constantly burn the eggs?”

I walked to my room to retrieve the one suitcase I owned. It was old and blue, given to me by my mother the day of my wedding to Lehi. I’d used it on my honeymoon for our evening at the seedy motel, but hadn’t touched it since. Dust had collected on it after three years on the top shelf of my closet.

I was going to make new memories with this suitcase. New memories with Porter.

And I couldn’t wait.

? ? ?

A look of confusion crossed Tiffany’s face when I entered the free clinic. She had been hunched over the desk, handling never-ending paperwork, and when she saw me, I noticed her lower her gaze to check the calendar, knowing I wasn’t due for another batch of pills for at least two weeks. The goofy grin on my face revealed that I was up to something. Her lips lifted into a smile as I approached.

“You look different,” she said, looking me up and down.

I had no real response; I knew she was right. I brushed at the warm skin of my cheeks, knowing that they were glowing in anticipation. All I could do was widen my grin.

“Things are good, I guess.” Tiffany smirked and placed her hands on her hips.

“Yes,” I admitted. “But I need your help.”

Tiffany shook her head, looking slightly annoyed, then crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Why does that not surprise me?”

Right then and there, I realized that the only time I visited my cousin was when I needed something from her. Shame washed over me, making me feel small and petty.

“I-I’m sorry, Tiffany. I should come by more, just to see you.”

“Whatever, it’s fine.” She flipped her short hair behind her ear before glancing down at the suitcase at my feet. “Oh my gosh, are you . . . are you leaving? Like, for good?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Her brightened expression dimmed to one of conflicted concern. “Then, um, what do you need?”

“I-I want to surprise Porter. We’re spending the night together, and I don’t want to look like . . .” I pinched at the fabric of my dress. “Well, I don’t want to look like this.”

“Are you serious?” Her smile widened into a toothy grin as she clenched her teeth. “That’s awesome!”

“I was hoping you could loan me some clothes. I’d return them, of course.”

“Of course.” She glanced back to the other employees at the desk before taking a quick look at her wristwatch. “I’ll take a quick lunch break. We can go to my apartment and I’ll send you on your way.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Are you kidding? I’m so proud of you right now, I can hardly stand it. Just give me a sec.”

Tiffany walked back to speak to another employee, gestured to me, and then reached under the counter to retrieve her purse.

“Follow me,” she said with a smile. There was a bounce to her step that I’d never seen before.

We walked two blocks to her apartment, which was situated above the drugstore. We climbed the three flights up to her small residence.

“It’s a studio, so it’s tiny,” she admitted as we walked into the one-room apartment. “But it’s all mine.”

I took in the deep red and white curtains that hung from the windows, feeling drawn to their bold color, a color not allowed on the compound. Tiffany was embracing her freedom and expressing her personality through her decor. Her couch was a deep plum color and several posters hung from the walls. I wasn’t sure what they represented—movies? Bands? I didn’t know, but was curious.

“I love it.” And I did. I was taken with her tiny home, and for the first time wasn’t afraid of what it represented. Instead, I was fascinated.

“So . . .” Tiffany walked to a small white dresser and removed several tops of assorted colors, placing them on her bed. “You can borrow whatever you want. Depends on what you’re most comfortable in.”

I reached out to touch the soft fabric of a pale yellow tunic. It was modest, but delicate and pretty.

“May I?” I asked, holding it up to my chest.

“Of course.”

“Can I use your bathroom?”

“Don’t be silly, just change here.” When I bit my bottom lip, Tiffany rolled her eyes. “I’m not looking at you or anything.”

“All right.”

Removing the dress that felt like it was stitched together with twenty pounds of fabric, I stared at the other items she placed on the bed. A pink sweatshirt, jeans, skirts, and a tiny black sweater. When I’d finally removed my dress and long underwear, I tried on each piece, finally opting for the tunic and jeans.