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“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Brea said, trying to smile.
“Right. Shopping first. We’ll welcome your babies later on.”
“After we sell the painting.”
“Oh, yes. After that, indeed,” Oriana said, dragging Brea back toward the door.
As they shopped that afternoon, diving in and out of little Manhattan boutiques, trying on skinny dresses, having their hair styled and their makeup done, Brea allowed herself to think of them as teenagers long before “real” life had begun. She imagined the person in the next dressing room was fifteen-year-old Oriana, gossiping about her crush on Reese, which had come after a brief crush on Steve Montgomery. “I just don’t think Steve likes me like that. I think he likes Laura. Which is okay because… I mean, Reese is just about the cutest guy around, isn’t he?”
But each time Brea stepped from the dressing room, she was shocked to find an adult version of Oriana, wearing a cocktail dress, her makeup done to perfection.Where had the time gone?And oh, gosh. Kenny was probably back home from his doctor’s appointment by now.
“Hey, Oriana? I’m going to call Kenny at home,” Brea said as she placed three dresses back on their hangers.
“I think I saw a payphone outside,” Oriana said. “You want to tell him about our victory?”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
But outside, the phone rang and rang and rang until Kenny finally answered it, sounding groggy.
“Hey, honey!” Brea almost didn’t recognize her voice. “How was the appointment?”
“Oh. It was fine. They’re going to call me tonight with news,” Kenny said.
Brea’s heart sank. She’d wanted him to announce just how fine he was right now if only to ease her mind.
“Did they give any indication what it could be?” Brea asked.
“They didn’t want to throw out a ton of diagnoses before they got the results back,” Kenny said. “But they’re rushing them.”
Brea wasn’t sure if needing to rush the results was necessarily a good sign. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
“How is your crazy day at work?” Kenny asked. He didn’t sound angry, just tired.
“Oh. It’s fine. Apparently, the client needs us to go out with him tonight to see if we’re ‘up to his satisfaction’ as business partners. I can try to get out of it, though.”
“No. Don’t.” Kenny sounded adamant. “All you’ll do here is watch me get sick. It’s…” He paused, sounding depleted. “It’s honestly better to have the night to myself, baby. Because I feel so guilty when you see me like this. I can’t be healthy for you right now. I’m sorry.”
Brea’s eyes filled with tears, and she dropped her forehead on the payphone, which was strangely sticky and cold. “I want to be with you.”
Kenny was quiet, and Brea stirred with confusion. On the one hand, she understood his problem, that he saw how frightened she was and that this made him even more miserable. But on the other, didn’t he want her there? Didn’t she offer emotional support?
“Just come home when you’re done,” Kenny said. “And I’ll tell you what the doctor said.”
Brea stifled a sob and wiped her cheeks. She had to do what Kenny wanted her to do right now. He was in charge, as was Oriana. Brea was like a leaf in a stormy wind.
“I love you, Kenny,” Brea told him. “I love you to pieces.”
“I love you, too, Monkey,” he said. “Goodbye.”
Just a few seconds after Brea hung up the phone, Oriana appeared on the sidewalk, carrying two cocktail dresses wrapped in protective plastic.
“I think these will work for tonight,” she said. “We don’t have long before we meet him for dinner. Let’s go back to the office and prep.”
Brea nodded, resolute. She had to make tonight work. Otherwise, it was a waste of time in literally every respect— and she just couldn’t take that. She owed it to Kenny to become something. Especially now.
ChapterTen
Dinner with Walter Billington was the fanciest Brea had ever experienced— nearly-rare steak, shrimp cocktails, buttery mashed potatoes, caviar, and martinis. The restaurant itself seemed taken from a film, with walls painted in black and servers all in black, never smiling. According to Oriana, you only got into the restaurant if you were “someone special.” Otherwise, there was a three-year waiting list for reservations.
