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That is where we are now because Willow has to have the new something or other that just came out, and of course, I jumped at the opportunity to bring her because we get to bond more. The first time we ventured to the mall, it was crazy. Fans were immediately upon me, scaring Stormy and Willow. That was the last time we went without a bodyguard. There’s nothing like a giant three-hundred-plus man walking behind you, glaring at anyone who might look in your direction. Big Joe, as he likes to be called, drew the line at carrying our bags though. We tried.
“What do you think of this?” Stormy comes out, dressed similarly to the way I dress. I like what she’s wearing, but not sure her father would approve, but then again, he loves me so he might not care.
“I like it, but do you? It’s one thing to dress like that every day, but to change back and forth might give you whiplash.”
She shrugs while looking in the mirror. Her head is slanted with her toes turned inward. She looks every bit a rocker chick with the combat boots she’s wearing that are similar to mine, a short skirt, and a shirt that has already been cut. I think she looks cute. Adorable even.
“Let me take your picture.”
Stormy turns around and poses while I snap the photo and send it off to her dad. She disappears into the dressing room, telling me she has another outfit to try on.
As soon as I see that Levi has read the message, I text him:Do you like it?
I don’t mean to hound him, but if Stormy asks if she can get it, I need to be able to tell her yes or no. Almost instantly, Levi’s face appears on my screen.
“Hello.”
“Hey, babe,” he says, breathlessly. The way he sounds, his voice, it makes me melt. “Stormy looks cute in that outfit.”
“I thought so, too.”
“She can get it if she wants. I think it’d be pretty messed up for me to tell her that she can’t dress like my girlfriend.”
Once again, I’m smiling like a fool. I love the label, even more, when I see it plastered all over the web. Those are some of my favorite headlines. The ones I don’t appreciate are the ones that talk about Van, me cheating, Levi and I being engaged, or when they circle my belly and announce that I’m pregnant and don’t know who the baby daddy is. It’s that shit that really sets me off and makes me despise the media.
“I’ll be sure to tell her if she asks.”
“I trust your judgment, Zara.”
“I’m just afraid the girls might take advantage.”
“They won’t,” he tells me. “They love you.”
And I love you, but neither of us has had the courage to say those words to each other.
“I love them, too.”
“What time will you be home?”
Home. Aside from Levi saying love, home is my next favorite word. There is another four-letter word that I like, but I like saving that for special occasions.
“I think in an hour or so. The girls are trying on clothes, and we talked about getting a treat someplace.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
We hang up in time for Willow to come out of the dressing room dressed in an extravagant ball gown.
“Wow, Willow. Are you going to some ball that your father isn’t aware of?”
She giggles and twirls in front of the mirror. “Nope. I thought I could wear this to your wedding.”
“My wedding?” I try to laugh off what she says.
“Yeah, I saw that you and Daddy are getting married.”
“Oh. . . you don’t think I’d pick out a dress for you if that was the case?”
Willow spins again, this time knocking into her sister. Stormy glares at her and Willow sticks her tongue out in retaliation.
