Page 55 of The Moment I Knew

“I wasn’t going to,” I said, already reaching for it.

“Imogen.”

“I said I wasn’t⁠—”

Mum clapped her hands once, sharp and loud. “Okay. Breakfast is over. Grab food. Move. I am done negotiating with this kitchen.”

We all knew better than to mess with that tone. Chairs scraped as we all got up. Lavender bumped into Sebastian as she left the room and he went to grab an apple from the bowl on the counter. Ainsley yanked me up by my sleeve and it was all I could to stuff the rest of the waffle in my mouth before she was tugging me out of the room, already mid-sentence about stores and time and how we had to go right after her dance practice today if we wanted anything good. The kitchen noise followed us all the way out. And even though I often wished for peace and quiet in this house to focus, I still loved the chaos of my family.

Ainsley dragged me from store to store, talking about dresses and accessories over the holiday music blasting and the people ringing bells throughout the mall. Now that it was getting to the Christmas season, the mall was insanely busy, so Ainsley and I shared a dressing room at the store, running in and out whenever we needed to find new dresses to try on. Within fifteen minutes, the place was overrun with discarded dresses that looked good on Pinterest but neither of us could make work on ourselves.

Unlike the chaos of the corridor, the store was filled with soft music and low chatter and hangers whispering against metal. We’d been here long enough that the sales associate had stopped checking on us and started pretending not to watch. A small pile of rejected dresses had formed on the chair between the mirrors—too tight, too shiny, weird neckline, suspiciously itchy.

“Why is this so hard?” I muttered as I stared at myself in the mirror. Normally, I was good at fashion. I liked choosing outfits for whenever we went out, especially since I spent the whole day in a school uniform. It was fun and easy. But this was impossible.

I tugged on the hem of the velvet dress I was wearing now, staring at myself in the mirror, and thought about the conversation I’d had with Sebastian in the car last week. I hope it’s not going to be weird… your first birthday without Dad. Maybe the dress wasn’t the problem. Maybe it was the party.

I looked at Ainsley in the mirror as she finished pulling on a new dark and fitted dress. It was the last thing I would have picked out for her on a hanger, but seeing it on her, it was perfect.

“Yeah,” I said. “That’s you.”

She caught my eye in the mirror. “That one’s fine.”

“Fine isn’t the goal,” I said, tugging the dress back off and dropping it again. We’d been in the store long enough that the bench between the mirrors was unusable. Dresses were folded over it, slid underneath it, half-hung from the hook on the door like casualties.

She shrugged. “It fits. It’s flattering. You won’t hate it in photos.”

“That’s a terrible pitch.” I started pulling on my regular clothes again. “Whatever, I’m over this. I’ll come back after school one day and try again. Get changed and I’ll meet you out front, okay?”

Ainsley nodded, but seemed like she was in no hurry to take the dress off as she spun around in it again, looking at herself from all angles. At least one of us was enjoying this.

I slipped out of the dressing room, pulling the curtain closed behind her again, and wandered back into the main store. I walked until I was sure I was out of her sight then pulled out my phone, opening a new text thread with my dad. I deleted all the messages with him after seeing him so nobody would get suspicious of why I was texting an unknown number, so I had to start fresh. I wasn’t sure what exactly I was going to say now—I was thinking about my birthday party this weekend and I want you there? Of course I wanted him there, but saying so wasn’t going to change anything. It wasn’t going to undo the rift through my family or make him any more welcome there by anyone else.

“Imogen? Is that you?” a curious voice came from my side. I immediately shoved my phone back in my pocket, heart pounding at the idea of someone questioning who I was texting. But when I looked up, I realized I didn’t need to bother. Hilary smiled at me, so wide and so fake. “What are you doing here, honey?”

I cringed at her calling me honey but didn’t say anything. Immediately, I heard Cole’s voice in my head, asking me why I didn’t fight back and why I let her speak to me like a child.

Hilary gestured vaguely at the racks around us, like the answer should’ve been obvious. “I didn’t know you shopped here,” she said, still smiling. Her lipstick was perfect, her hair glossy and curled in that effortless way that definitely took effort.

“I’m just… with my sister,” I said. I hated how defensive it sounded, like I’d been caught doing something wrong. I shifted my weight, suddenly very aware of the little gold plaque on her chest with her name.

“Oh!” she said brightly, following my gaze without missing a beat. “Yeah, I started here a couple of weeks ago. Seasonal help.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “The employee discount is dangerous.”

I pushed away my surprise that she worked—I’d been convinced for months that my dad covered all her living expenses—and glanced back toward the dressing rooms on instinct, a spike of panic shooting through me at the thought of Ainsley pulling the curtain back and walking straight into this. She wouldn’t know who Hilary was, of course, but how easy would it be for her to figure it out? What if she put two and two together, and realized how I knew Hilary?

As if she could sense my discomfort, Hilary put a hand on my shoulder and guided me deeper into the store, further out of sight from the dressing rooms. She did it so casually that I would have thought it was a natural move if I’d watched her do it with someone else, but I knew better. She was making sure we were hidden from view because she knew Ainsley couldn’t see us. She had plenty of experience sneaking around, and even though she and Dad could officially be together now, she still remembered how.

And through it all, her smile never wavered. It gave me the chills.

“So,” Hilary said, drawing the word out like she was savoring it, “are you shopping for something special, or are you just here to give moral support?”

I tightened my grip on my phone in my pocket. “Just looking.”

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded slowly. “You know, we’re slammed today. Everyone’s scrambling for the perfect outfit for Christmas parties and New Year’s. You know how it is.” She waved her hand in the air flippantly, like we were making the most casual conversation and not like I was trying to plot my escape from the second bad conversation in two days.

“I should get back to my sister,” I said, taking a step sideways, trying to angle around her.

She shifted too, still smiling, still blocking me without touching me. “Of course. Family first.” The words were syrupy. “Your dad’s big on that.”