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I know Fiona must have had the best of intentions. Maybe if we weren’t prizes, if we were ordinary women happily going through our pregnancies, things would have gone well. But we’re not, and since none of us wanted to talk about why we’re not, we didn’t really have anything in common.
“Yeah,” Giselle agrees. “But it’s not your fault. In fact, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Except wear the wrong dress to begin with,” I remind her.
Giselle shakes her head. “That woman, Lily, shouldn’t have made such a big fuss of it. All she does is cry.”
I shrug. “It must be the hormones.”
“And that other woman, Jan- all she does is talk.”
“I know.”
“Hannah was okay, I guess,” Giselle adds.
“Until she threw up on my foot,” I say.
Giselle chuckles, then gives me a smile. “You were better than all of them.”
I smile back. “I’m glad you think so, but this isn’t a competition.”
She shrugs. “Still…”
She stops and frowns as she looks inside my shoe.
I lean forward. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s some stuff I can’t get out,” Giselle says.
She grabs a few more sheets of tissue to clean my shoe but still frowns. She gives it a sniff and her nose wrinkles.
“It stinks,” she says with a grimace. “Sure you don’t want to wear those flip flops we left back at the car instead?”
My eyebrows arch. I forgot I had those.
I put up a finger. “You know what? I think that’s a good idea.”
Those flip flops might not have gone well with my blue dress, but I think they’ll be just fine with this denim one. Besides, they should be more comfortable. And not stinky.
Giselle stands up. “I’ll get them right away.”
As I wait for her to come back, I make myself comfortable on the tufted bench. My gaze wanders around.
It’s a beautiful bathroom, much like those at Gavin’s apartment but with a softer look. It’s almost romantic, in fact. The bathtub is right next to a wall where brick lights alternate with granite tiles. The red flecks on the tiles almost look like rose petals. The white shower curtain has a floral design, too, making it resemble a bridal veil. Tiny vials of potpourri sit near the sink inside a pink basket which has been woven to resemble a swan.
My eyebrows crease. Haven’t I seen that swan somewhere before?
“Well, look who’s here.”
I turn my head at the sound of the voice and see Jan leaning on the door frame. Her other hand rests on her hip. She glances at my feet.
“Looks like this Cinderella lost both her shoes.”
I try to hide them under the bench. “I didn’t lose my shoes. I- ”
“I know, Princess Peach puked on them,” Jan cuts me off as she looks at her nails. “I bet she’s starting to wish she didn’t run away from her castle.”
I look at her with arched eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on.” Jan rolls her eyes. “Did you see the way she ate that cupcake? Or how amazing her hair is?”
“Well, she does have nice hair,” I say.
“Hair as shiny as that does not exist in real life,” Jan says. “Not unless you go to the salon regularly or have a bunch of expensive hair stuff.”
Okay.
“Plus her nose is fake,” Jan adds.
My eyebrows crease. It is?
“I can tell because I had a friend who had her nose done,” she explains.
I nod. “So you think Hannah’s rich?”
“I bet she is.”
“What is she doing here, then?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Daddy won’t give her enough money. Or maybe he disowned her after she got pregnant. Maybe she got bored. Maybe she’s just trying to pretend to be poor. Isn’t that what rich people are doing these days?”
I shrug. I still don’t know whether I believe her or not. I don’t trust her, after all.
“Whatever the reason, you’re wasting your time trying to cozy up to her,” Jan tells me. “She’s out of your league. She’s a real princess. You? You’re a wannabe. Like I said, Cinderella.”
I close my eyes and draw a deep breath. I don’t know what I’ve done to upset her or why she’s trying to pick a fight with me, but I’m not going to let her drag me into her drama.
“Just leave me alone, Jan.”
She snorts. “Why? Because you think you’re better than me?”
God, she’s persistent.
“You do, don’t you? All because you think you’ve found your fucking Prince Charming.”
My mouth gapes as I look at her. “When did I ever say anything like that?”
“It was all over your face,” Jan answers. “Especially when you were smirking and then pretending to feel all sorry for me while I was talking about my protector.”
My eyebrows go up. I was smirking?
Jan stands right in front of me. “Well, I’ve got news for you, Cinderella.”
“Leah,” I correct her. “My name is Leah.”
She ignores me. “You’re a slut just like the rest of us. And your Prince Charming who you think is going to make you into a princess? He’s not even a prince. He’s a devil.”
