Page 59 of Glitched Play

Dangerous thought. Delete immediately.

Noelle's eyes shine. "That's the one."

I swallow. "Are you sure?"

"No." She steps beside me, turning me gently toward the mirror. "I'm positive."

The woman staring back at me doesn't look like she's borrowing someone else's life. She looks like she finally stepped into her own. My chest aches a little, and I blink too fast because I refuse to cry in a boutique where a single shoe probably costs more than my first car.

Noelle sees it anyway.

Of course she does.

"Hey," she says softly. "You deserve to feel beautiful and brilliant at the same time. You don't have to pick one."

I laugh, but it comes out wobbly. "You O'Ryans are dangerous."

"I'm a Stricker now,” she says, beaming with pride.

"Still dangerous."

"Fair."

By the time we return to the penthouse, we're laughing so hard I can barely carry the bags. Noelle has somehow talked me into the dress, shoes, earrings, and a tiny clutch that holds almost nothing except a lipstick and the illusion of preparedness. The elevator opens, and we stumble inside with garment bags and shopping bags and the kind of bright, easy noise that definitely does not belong in Witt's perfectly ordered world.

We make it six steps before a door opens down the hall.

Witt appears in black athletic pants, bare feet, and a T-shirt that looks unfairly soft. His hair is slightly messed up like he's been dragging his hand through it, and he has headphones around his neck. The second he sees us, his expression tightens.

"I'm trying to work."

I stop immediately.

The warmth from the morning drains straight out of me.

Noelle, however, doesn't even flinch. "And we're trying to improve your gala optics. Everyone has a struggle."

His gaze flicks over the bags, then to me, then back to Noelle. "You bought the entire store."

"No. I left several ugly things behind."

"I have calls."

"You have noise-canceling headphones."

"I shouldn't have to wear them in my own home."

"You grew up with four siblings."

"Past tense."

Noelle walks over and kisses his cheek. He sighs like a man who could run a billion-dollar empire but cannot win a single argument against his sister.

"You're welcome," she says.

"I didn't say thank you."

"You thought it loudly."