Page 152 of Until Joy

“We're not buying the first thing we see. We're buying the forty-seventh thing we see.”

Joy laughed and moved to the next display. A sectional in what the tag called “charcoal gray” but looked suspiciously black to me.

“Joy, come look at this lamp!” The voice carried from three aisles over, followed by the sound of heels clicking on polished concrete.

I closed my eyes and counted to ten. “Did you have to bring Kayan?”

“She offered to help.”

“This is worse than rolling my truck.”

“Don't be a baby.”

But Kayan's presence turned furniture shopping into a group activity that involved way too much discussion about throw pillows and accent colors. Every decision required a committee vote, and I was definitely outnumbered.

“This lamp is perfect for that corner by the window,” Kayan called again. “You have to see this.”

I looked at Joy, who was already heading toward Kayan's voice. “Do I have to see this?” I prayed she’d say no.

“Yes, you have to see this.” She grabbed my hand and I followed her to the lamp section. We passed through a maze of furniture displays, dining sets, and bedroom suites, and enough decorative accessories to make my eyes bleed. No wonder I’d never gone furniture shopping. Kayan stood next to a floor lamp that probably cost more than a transmission.

“Isn't this gorgeous?” Kayan gestured at the lamp like she was presenting a prize on a game show. “The brushed nickel finish will go with everything, and the shade gives off such warm light.”

Joy nodded appreciatively. “It's beautiful.”

I stared at the lamp. It was tall. It had a shade. It would probably illuminate whatever corner they stuck it in. Beyond that, I had no opinion whatsoever.

“It's just a lamp,” I said.

Both women turned to look at me with expressions that suggested I'd just insulted their mothers.

“It's not just a lamp,” Kayan explained with exaggerated patience. “It's a statement piece. It sets the mood for the entire room.”

“The mood for reading,” I grumbled.

“Graham.” Joy's voice carried a warning. “Be nice.”

My phone rang before I could dig myself deeper into this particular hole. Wes's name flashed on the screen, and I'd never been happier to take a phone call in my life.

“How's it going?” Wes asked, and I could hear the amusement in his voice.

I stepped away from the girls so they couldn’t hear me. “I'm in furniture shopping hell. Send backup.”

“That bad?”

“We've been to three stores. They're debating lamp shades. I'm about to fake a medical emergency.”

Wes laughed. “Hang in there, brother. It'll be over soon.”

“Not soon enough.”

I glanced at Joy and Kayan, who were now examining throw pillows like they were a new weapons system. Joy held up two pillows that looked identical to me but apparently must have been different somehow.

Oh, for fuck’s sake!

“I’ve got to get the hell out of here,” I told Wes, my voice desperate.

I ended the call and walked back to where Joy was testing the softness of couch cushions. She looked up at me with those blue eyes that still knocked the breath out of me.