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The black tux was out for the same reason.
Reaching for the ivory tux jacket with shiny trim, she looked closer. The fabric was embossed with an abstract floral pattern apparently hand-stitched in a slightly lighter color. Invisible at first glance, but then impossible to ignore.
“Too bad I lost my tan,” she muttered as she checked herself out in the full-length mirror. There was no doubt the nearly white jacket would look better against less pale skin.
Maybe she’d have time to remedy the problem before the big event.
As Reagan buttoned the tuxedo shirt to just below her neck, Libby laughed.
What could be so funny between strangers?
For the first time, she considered they might be talking about her. Since they’d moved away from the dressing room, all she could make out was the low murmur of conversation and a random word h
ere or there. She guessed Mary was showing her some pieces she’d made. Something Libby might wear. But, she hadn’t considered the high probability
that they were talking about her. Would Mary try to compare notes?
Opting for barefoot instead of putting boat shoes against such a lovely suit, Reagan forced herself to saunter instead of spring out from behind the curtain.
“Glad you could make it,” Reagan said with a lopsided smile as Libby turned from the velvet gown Mary was showing her.
Instead of an immediate response, Libby’s dark green eyes scanned her more thoroughly than an airport security screener. Reagan bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from smiling. Before she could ask if Libby liked it, Mary rushed forward, pulling a pin from the little fabric tomato strapped to her wrist.
“I can take it in here,” Mary said, turning her toward the three-way mirror as she pinched the fabric under her arms to make the garment more formfitting.
As Mary suggested other minor alterations, Reagan watched Libby’s reflection. When her former friend-with-benefits crouched in front of her to mark the black trousers with chalk, Libby glanced up and caught her gazing.
“What do you think?” Mary asked, stepping away from the half-altered suit.
Libby gave her the once over before smiling. “Very midnight in Havana, but maybe we should look at all the options.”
Reagan smirked. “Or maybe you know when you’ve found exactly what you’re looking for?”
The moment of silence that hung between them was severed by Mary’s chipper voice. “Well, it never hurts to try on a few other things just to be sure.”
Half an hour and several discarded options later, the group consensus was on the first suit. While Mary dashed o
to the back to better mark the changes, Reagan slipped back into her clothes.
“I didn’t know you were friends with such a talented designer, or I would have come here for my dress,” Libby said as Reagan pushed back the dressing room curtain.
“I know a lot of people,” she replied with exaggerated confidence as she stepped into her personal space.
Libby chuckled without moving away. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied softly, holding Reagan in her gaze. “You really did look stunning in that suit.”
Reagan learned forward, inhaling the light citrusy scent of Libby’s perfume. “I hope I can do you justice. There’s no doubt in my mind you’re going to be a showstopper.”
A smile crept over Libby’s lips like ivy reaching for a branch just out of easy reach. “Are you always such a flatterer?”
“I only call it like I see it,” Reagan countered as she lingered on the curve of her full bottom lip. In the heavy silence, Reagan wondered if Libby was putting on a show for Mary.
A buzzing phone shattered the moment.
“Shit,” Libby cursed as she typed. “I was going to stick around and invite you to lunch but—”
“But you have to run?” Reagan guessed. “No worries.
Go.”
