You Are Not Alone(48)

Cassandra laughed. “Oh, I’ve always been curious about those dating sites. Which one are you joining?”

“I’m thinking about Cupid. Apparently a lot of people sign up for more than one at a time, so I might do a couple. Now I just need to take some better photos of myself. My corporate headshot can’t compete with all the bikini pics I keep seeing on the sites.”

“Oh, shut up, you look great.” Cassandra had laughed. Then she’d paused. “But if you really want a makeover, you’ve got to let us help! Jane and I live for this stuff. We do it for a lot of our clients.”

I hadn’t even mentioned a makeover—I was just thinking about putting on some eyeliner and a cute outfit and maybe getting a trim.

But the enthusiasm in Cassandra’s voice ignited something in me, a sense of excitement at the possibilities.

Who better to guide me through this than the gorgeous Moore sisters? I’d thought as Cassandra told me she’d try to get an appointment with a stylist she knew for Saturday.

“Even if he’s booked up, he’ll find a way to squeeze you in. And don’t worry about the price—we send him so much business that he always gives us a huge discount.”

Now, as I look at myself in the mirror—with Cassandra and Jane standing behind my shoulders, staring at me with approving smiles—I think about how I’ve felt like someone else ever since I began house-sitting in the apartment.

Maybe it’s only natural that I start looking like someone else, too.

I leave Philip a big tip, since he refuses to charge me anything. Then we head out the door and Jane links her arm through mine.

Next up is an appointment with the optometrist. After a quick eye exam and a vision test, he gives me a pair of sample contacts on the spot and tells me my order will be in next week. I’m surprised by how easy it is to put them in.

When I walk into the reception area, where Jane and Cassandra are trying on sunglasses, I feel a little naked. Maybe I didn’t only use my glasses to improve my vision; maybe they provided a shield for me to hide behind.

Cassandra lowers oversize Ray?Bans and gapes at me, while Jane gives a wolf whistle that causes the guy waiting nearby to laugh.

I blush under their scrutiny, blinking even though the lenses are so soft and thin I can’t feel them.

It’s gorgeous out, so we decide to walk the High Line and find a spot to take photos for the dating website. “Who knows, I might even try it, too,” Cassandra says, which sounds preposterous to me. I keep noticing men turning around to get a second look at both sisters as we walk down the street. All the sisters would have to do is pause on the corner and they could have a dozen dates.

Before we reach the High Line, I spot a gray cat curled up in the window of a little bookstore and my gut clenches. I pray the Moore sisters don’t notice; they might ask me about my fictional dead cat, and I don’t want to dig myself deeper into the stupid lie I created. I don’t know why I didn’t just admit I’d never seen Amanda before the day she died, but it’s too late now.

So I point across the street at a Korean barbecue restaurant. “That place looks good.”

A few seconds later, we’re past the bookstore window and I breathe easily again.

We spend a couple more hours together, buying margarita-flavored Popsicles from a pushcart vendor, and trying on hats at a kiosk.

Both sisters keep directing me to pose as they snap photos of me with their phones. “Lift your chin and smile, you little vixen!” Jane says, making me laugh.

We finish with what feels like yet another celebration in a day of them: We share a bottle of rosé and a cheese plate at an outdoor café, laughing about potential lines for my dating profile.

I poke fun at myself, feeling a little expansive from the wine. “I’m quite the catch, you know. For my headline, how about ‘Homeless, unemployed thirty-one-year-old looking for love’?”

They laugh along with me, then Cassandra puts her hand over mine. “You have to stop thinking this way, Shay. You are a catch. You’re kind and funny and smart. Any guy would be lucky to go out with you.”

Jane is nodding. My chest feels tight—full. As if it can barely contain all the emotions that are swelling in me. So I duck my chin and say thanks.

“We’ll send you the best photos later!” Cassandra says as they get into a cab and I stand on the curb, waving.

Then I head toward the subway. As I pass a restaurant with floor-to-ceiling glass walls, I catch a glimpse of my reflection. I’m walking with my spine straight and shoulders back—the way Cassandra does. My hair is sleek and shiny, bouncing against my shoulders.

I notice one other thing: A guy on the other side of the glass, sitting alone at a table, is checking me out.



* * *



The temperatures are supposed to dip next week; it’ll finally feel like fall. So I decide to swing by my apartment to grab a warmer jacket and a pair of leather boots that I like to wear with my jeans. I also want to pick up my black suit for my second interview, since I wore my gray one last time.

It’s strange climbing the stairs again after a week away. It feels like I’m coming back from a much longer absence. When I turn down the hallway and reach for the door, I hesitate. I have my key out, but maybe I should knock.

I compromise by rapping my knuckles against the door as I unlock it.