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Reagan: Me? Little old me?? Set you up?? Never! For real though, I wish you were here too. . . I can’t believe I’ve gotten so used to sleeping with you.
Libby: Tell me about it. . . I’ve been trying to figure out how exactly I became addicted to you.
Reagan: I know exactly what you mean. . . maybe you can spend the night tomorrow and stay through the weekend? Or we could go to your place? I’m sure you’re sick of my small bed, crappy shower, and lack of a real kitchen.
Libby: No. If it’s all the same to you, I really like being at your place. It feels more like home.
Reagan: And I love having you here. . . as long as you’re not hiding another family at your place or something. lol.
Libby: Where would I keep them? You’ve been to my house!
Reagan: Maybe you sent the kids to a babysitter for the night and concealed the evidence of their existence. I don’t know your life!Libby: lol is it so hard to believe that I’d rather be at your house than mine?
Staring at her text, Reagan let the sentiment settle over her like a blanket just out of the dyer.
Reagan: So, is that a yes for the weekend?
She made the o er of a sleepover despite how painful sleeping with her could be. Reagan had never struggled to control herself before, but she’d also never waited so long to sleep with someone she’d been sharing a bed with.
Libby: I’ll pack a bag this time.
Her heart filled like a helium balloon inflated to the point of near bursting. She had to resist the urge to ask her to come over right then.
Reagan: And deprive me the opportunity to see you in my clothes??? Fine.
After a little while, Libby stopped responding and Reagan drifted o with the phone pressed to her chest.
C H A P T E R 3 3
“THANK you so much for meeting me so early,” Libby said as she met Mary at the door of her shop half an hour after sunrise.
The seamstress smiled as she unlocked a series of locks.
“I’m happy to help and the free publicity isn’t bad.” She laughed.
Libby smiled. The banner advertising Mary’s dress shop and other local ventures hadn’t cost much and added some much-needed color to the studio’s drab exterior. “Rising tides lifts all boats, right?”
“Reagan has infected you with her obsessive love of Hialeah, hasn’t she?”
“What can I say? It’s impossible to resist,” she agreed.
“Don’t I know it,” Mary replied with a laugh as she pushed the door open and jogged to the security panel to disarm it.
Inside, she followed her through racks of hand-tailored clothes to the dressing room. As she waited for the outfit she trusted Mary to design without her input, Libby sent texts like a machine gun aimed at three targets at once. Her grandmother’s caterers had come through on very little notice, but she was left with the B team, which required more micro-managing. The party rental place couldn’t find
the location to set up the tent, and she had to send them step by step directions.
“Ready?” Mary asked as she approached with a black garment bag.
Libby nodded before tossing her phone on her purse and peeling o her jeans and sweater. Mary was so used to seeing people in their underwear she didn’t even flinch.
“You think it’ll be okay even without time for a fitting?”
Libby regretted having only considered her outfit at the last minute. All she’d had time to do was call Mary and show up at the break of dawn so she could take her measurements.
“I doubt you’ve changed much in three days,” she joked before hanging the dress on a peg and unzipping the bag.
“Oh, wow. Mary.” The blood-red jumpsuit with plunging neckl
