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She’s lonely. I can see it.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Anya winces. “The apartment building where you’re at is usually staffed with the family guys. Men who need a set work schedule so they can get home to their wives and kids.”
“Just my luck,” Francia grumbles.
“Well, don’t feel too bad for yourself,” Jorden says. “I’m not faring any better. The men you meet are married and the men I meet are hopeless. Which probably means I should stop daydreaming with these dresses. Maybe we should get some nun habits in here to try on for size.”
I drop down onto the bed and kick my legs out from under the skirt of the dress. I’ve only tried on three dresses, all of which have been atrocious. Mostly because I’m afraid if I take this seriously, I might find a dress I actually like.
Then it would be even hardernotto picture myself standing at the altar with Ivan.
“My view of men isn’t so bleak,” I say. “There are plenty of nice, handsome guys out there who know how to hold a conversation.”
None that my stepfather tried to set me up with, but “a functioning personality” wasn’t high on his list of must-haves. That fell squarely after wealth, connections, and a girthy stick up their butt. The last one wasn’t official, but I can only assume it was as mandatory as the rest.
“Says the woman engaged to a walking, talking sex god,” Jorden mutters.
“Ew!” Anya plants her hands over her ears. “Please never say that in front of me again.”
“Sorry, but it’s true. Ivan is a higher breed of human. I mean, he had an entire party full of women wanting to marry him. Who gets that kind of response?”
“Rich guys,” Francia suggests.
Anya points to Francia. “She’s right. Money covers a multitude of sins. Believe me, my brother has his fair share of relationship mess-ups and faux pas. If you don’t believe me, ask Katerina.”
The air seems to get sucked out of the room. Or maybe it’s justmyair.
“Who is Katerina?” Jorden asks.
Anya’s smile looks suddenly strained. “No one. Just trust me. My brother has made his fair share of mistakes.”
“No time like the present to spill the tea. Every woman wants to hear about her fiancé’s exes while she’s trying on wedding dresses.”
I honestly can’t tell if Jorden is joking or not.
Anya drops the veil back on the rack and slips out of her dress. She lunges for her trousers and sweater like there’s a fire. “That may be true, but there isn’t a sister on the planet that wants to talk about their brother’s love life. I’ve learned my lesson where that is concerned: mind my own business.”
“Since when?” I chuckle before I can stop myself.
She turns to me and I see something pleading in her gaze. Whatever she let slip, it was a mistake.
Drop it,her eyes say.I’m begging you.
Jorden is taking a deep breath, ready to launch into what will no doubt be a long-winded argument for why we deserve to know everything about Ivan’s past. As supportive as she has been the last few days, I know she’s still worried Ivan might be trouble.
Before she can, I step in.
“I’m starved. Do you think there are any snacks ready?”
“Yes!” Anya says a little too quickly. “I bet the finger sandwiches are ready. I’ll go grab them.” Then she is gone, only the ghost of her Chanel perfume hanging in the air.
Jorden watches her leave and then does a slow turn back to us, eyebrow arched. “That was weird, right?”
“Anya is flighty. That’s just how she is,” I lie.
“No. No, that was a different level of weird. She was being evasive. What isn’t she telling us?”
I stand up and start sorting through the dresses on the racks. “She doesn’t want to talk about her brother’s personal life. We should respect that.”
