Page 87 of Mister Fake Fiance

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The mimosa is cool, with a nice, fizzy finish. Jun’s boutique probably doesn’t use cheap alcohol. This reminds me of the ring shopping I did with David. Shit. Are they going to think that’s my preference and insist on putting me in things that are as original and statement-making as the ring?

“Can I just get some clothes in the same style as this”—I point at my outfit—“and get going?” I say, channeling David when he’s in an interdepartmental meeting. Polite but firm.

“That?” Jun points at me with horror. “But that’s so…businesslike. No personality at all.” Her voice grows mournful. “It’s a terrible sin for any woman to hide her true self.”

No, it isn’t. You do not want to see how crazy I truly am. I force a smile. “My job isn’t in fashion.”

“So?” Josephine sounds scandalized. “That doesn’t mean you can’t do more.”

“Exactly.” Jun nods. “We’ll make you beautiful. And brilliant. You’re pretty. You should be noticed.”

My skin crawls a little more.

She raises a hand, fingertips pulled together, then opens them widely like a sunburst. “Shine like a star in a dark sky!”

“No!” I gasp.

Jun stops. “Excuse me?”

Josephine is also staring.

Oh my God. Why did I burst out like that? What would a normal person say? “I mean… It sounds great…?” I squeak.

“You don’t really sound convinced,” Josephine says, her head tilted.

“No, no, I’m convinced.” This must be how young Salem women felt when they were accused of being witches and had to decide if they should just drown and prove their innocence or swim and then get executed for using black magic. Screwed either way. “I just… I just want to be okay.”

“David said home and hearth. The kind of girl a man marries,” she says.

“Okay. Then let’s do that,” I say, desperate. “Home and hearth” sounds very calm and earthy. Not some brilliant fashion supernova in the dead of night. “Nothing drastic. I just want to be me. I mean, a slightly better me…but me. You understand?” That should placate these fashion barracudas. Or so I hope.

“Your man is being…” Jun shakes her head. “This isn’t about him, but you. You looking beautiful, you shining like a star. Home and hearth sounds so…drab. How are you supposed to shine while toiling away in a kitchen?”

“It’s totally possible!” I nearly yell. “I love baking.”

“Hard to shine when you’re covered in baking powder,” Josephine says. “But we’ll see.”

Jun snaps her fingers. “Let’s get started.”

More of her people come. I count, and holy mother of God, there are twelve. Twelve? I need twelve people to pick out clothes?

Soon I realize it’s more than that. They take me to a super-comfy chair. One starts trimming my hair, while two others start doing my mani and pedi. I squeak, but Josephine waves away my protest.

“It’s part of the deal. Can’t be a ‘slightly better you’ if you don’t do this.”

“Can I pick the color?” I ask, trying not to panic.

“Yes,” one of the people doing my nails says. “We have every color you could want.”

“Pink!” It’s sweet, inoffensive and blends in.

She nods at another woman, who brings out a huge tray full of pink nail polishes. Who knew there are so many different shades of pink? Can’t they use the bottle that says just “pink”?

“Any pink is fine as long as it’s pretty,” I say faintly.

Behind me, Josephine and Jun consult in low voices, while more racks are dragged in. Vivid colors flash by in my peripheral view. Red. Black. Honey gold. Yellow. Purple. And so many more.

I try to turn my head, but the stylist tut-tuts. “Don’t move unless you want to look bad. You need to trim your hair regularly to get it nice and bouncy. You have good hair, but it’s been neglected.”


Tags: Nadia Lee Romance