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It felt real.
Though they weren’t on uneven ground now, this new page felt even scarier. Now she wasn’t only giving her body and a little bit of time to Quaide—she was allowing him into her heart.
* * * * *
“God, this really issougly. How did anyone in the eighties wear this crap?” Dove held up the mauve garment that she and Rain had spent hours wasting time at the sewing machine making.
Her sister mumbled around a mouthful of pins she was busy sticking into the fabric to make a pair of matching mauve pants.
Dove pushed away from the sewing table and stretched. Her back muscles screamed from the time spent hunched over a needle and working the electric pedal of the old Singer. If not for Rain’s devotion to the project, she would have given up long ago.
Tissue paper sewing patterns were strewn all over the bed and the top of a dresser. The waistband of the pants dangled off the side of the table, ready to be stitched to the legs that Rain was busy pinning to each other.
Dove eyed her sister. “I’m surprised you’d take on a sewing project. You were pretty young when Mom used to sew.”
She looked up at Dove. The pins sticking out of her mouth and her wide eyes made her giggle.
“You look like a quizzical porcupine, Rainy.”
Her eyes widened more and she spit out the pins into her palm. “It’s been a while since you called me that nickname.”
She sank to the edge of the bed a few feet away. “I’ve been stressed.”
“I realize.”
“You seem…calm here, Rain.”
“More like bored. But yeah, something about this house makes me calm. Don’t you feel it?”
She nodded. “I do. I’m sure Quaide feels the same.”
“So…Quaaaide.” She drawled out his name
Dove was just getting ready to say she wasn’t talking about their protector when Lark appeared in the open doorway. Dressed in a yellow top with frills at the wrists, jeans and a pair of yellow Converse sneakers, she brought the sunshine that the rest of the home’s interior lacked.
“Knock knock. I’m not interrupting, am I?”
Dove issued a low laugh. “Oh yes, we’re sewing a mauve matching set straight off a 1982 runway. Extremely classified operation.”
Lark’s eyes twinkled and she rushed over to the top they’d just created. “Wow! I saw all the sewing patterns and stacks of cloth, but I never pegged you two as seamstresses.”
“We aren’t,” Dove said dryly.
Lark held up the garment to her top. She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure this is ever coming back in style.”
“Not a flaming chance in hell.” Dove grinned.
“Wearefinishing these pants, Dove. I don’t care what you say!”
Lark cocked a brow. “And who will be modeling the glam outfit?”
“Not me,” Dove said at once. “Lark?”
“Those pants are a mile long. Not going to fit me.” She stuck out one petite leg.
Dove and Rain laughed.
“Actually, I came to see if you could give me a hand, Dove.” Lark’s expression grew serious.
