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“What is she doing in there?” I asked, brows tight.
Jenna waved a hand, “Anything from organizing by genre of concert tee….”
I bit my bottom lip, “I don’t have any of those.”
“To grouping items according to work, play, and hot factor,” Layla finished.
“She’s really good at it,” Jenna said.
A breathless Gabby stuck her head out the door, “Are you willing to part with any of this?”
“You see something you like?” I asked, surprised.
“No, I see a shit ton I want to donate. I’m sure there’s somebody out there who needs ahands off I do not need to get laidbusiness suit.”
“Oh, God,” I whispered.
“Let it go,” Layla advised sagely. “Just let it go.”
And then the thought occurred to me that if I wanted different inanyaspect of my life, then I had to do different inallaspects of my life.
And I definitely wanted different.
I wanted different for me and Gate, I wanted a different career, I wanted a different family dynamic.
I wanted a different house.
I wanted to be a me that I liked. That I didn’t mind spending the rest of my life with.
So I turned to Gabby’s expectant face and said, “They say you’re the expert, so do your thing. Turn my wardrobe into something I’d actually love to wear and look good doing it.”
“Oh, mama,” Gabby grinned, “you’re not going to look good doing it. You’re going to looksmoking hot.”
She retreated and slammed the door.
And then what sounded like a heard of elephants tromped up the stairs, and Stella and Cassie entered the bathroom, arms loaded down with shopping bags.
My jaw dropped, “Stella, what did youdo?”
“First, we went by the club,” Stella answered, unloading her cargo.
“And then she talked to her dad,” Cassie filled in, sorting through bags and pulling out department store cosmetics.
“And he gave me his card!” Stella squealed, hopping up and down with little claps of excitement.
“And then he saidget your mom everything she needsin that deep gravelly voice he uses when he talks about you,” Cassie added, complete with a fairly accurate imitation.
“So,of course,” Stella said, batting her eyelashes, “Layla texted me a list of everything she used on your face.”
“You did?” I asked, attention snapping to Layla.
“Guilty,” Layla smirked.
“And then mamacita over there sitting like the queen bee texted us names of shops to hit,” Cassie said.
I looked at Jenna who just grinned and continued to rub a hand over her baby bump.
Gabby opened the closet door again and drug two huge trash bags full of clothes behind her. “And I texted sizes,” she said on her way through the bedroom and down the stairs.
