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“Okay, well, I think you should maybe see someone.”
“I’m fine,” she says, touching her face.
“No, I meant a psychiatrist.” Her mouth opens in shock like she can’t believe the words that left my mouth.
“Maybe you need to too,” she bites back. “He’s going to come for you. You know that, right? And your little boyfriend won’t be able to save you.”
“I think it’s time you left, Abigail.” I nod to the door. I can’t listen to her dribble anymore.
“Do you plan to show me out?” she asks.
“If I have to, I will kick your ass out. Now, I am asking nicely. Please leave.”
“I’m not leaving because you asked. I’m leaving because I have a hair appointment, and now I have to cover this black eye.” She whimpers as she touches the blackening bruise.
“Have a good day, Abigail.” I hold the door open for her, and she slides on her sunglasses and walks out without saying another word. Before I can close the door, I notice Sailor approaching, so I wait at the door and usher her inside. She takes in all the work we’ve done and smiles.
I like her. She has this way about her where she makes you feel welcome. I’m not really sure how to describe it. Sailor is different from Chanel, who is nice, but you know she would eat you alive if tested.
“This is so cute.” Her hands run along the bookshelves I picked out. I went for a different style than last time and chose a sixties theme. The bookshelves are old, big, and beautiful. Andheavy. “OMG, look at that phone.” She walks over to a rack and picks up an old phone, putting it to her ear. “I haven’t seen one of these for ages… it even has the rotary dial.” She puts her finger in the hole and starts spinning it to the correct numbers.
Merci walks out then and says, “Hello,” then she asks, “Crazy sis left?”
I nod, and she whistles.
“We all have them. A crazy one, I mean. Mine happens to be my boyfriend.” Merci laughs. “Though, he’s better now.”
“Mine is my husband,” Sailor says, smiling. “Actually, when I think about it that title belongs to Lucas. Poor Chanel.”
“I don’t think she thinkspoor Chanel.” Merci laughs.
“Anyway, I came to invite you both to girls’ night at my house.” She smiles at me.
“I have Jerome.”
“He is welcome to come. The kids stay upstairs with the nanny, and we stay downstairs, drinking.”
“I don’t kn—”
“She’s in.” Merci throws her arm around my shoulder. “I’ll pick her up.”
“When is it?”
“Tomorrow night. I know, late notice, but when you don’t work on schedules you just try to fit things in when you can.”
“I have the shop.”
“We’ll all help.”
“She’s trying to get out of it. But, girl, you need it. If anyone needs a girls’ night, it’s you.” Merci nudges my shoulder. “We can celebrate all the kickass work we’ve done here so far to prepare to open next week.”
“I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” I smile at her, my chest filling with warmth. “Okay. What can a few drinks hurt?”
“Your head, for one,” Sailor says, chuckling.
“Or your legs. You know, when you open them to people they shouldn’t be opened to,” Merci adds, making me laugh.
“Yeah, that needs to stop.”
