The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

“Still time. Now sit. I’m doing your hair.”

“Which also takes me back to college. You know why Mom went to work this morning?”

“So she wouldn’t hover and make you nervous, and make herself nervous because she made you nervous.” Cleo sighed. “I love Winter.”

“So do I.”

Since they were there, she ate a couple of berries, then decided she could, at least, nibble on the bagel.

“I texted Trey this morning. He and Owen stayed at the manor last night. They did pizza and a movie.”

“I texted Owen to see how Pye did. He texted back: ‘Fine. She slept on my ass.’ You know, she doesn’t sleep on mine, but his? It’s a little annoying.”

Sonya watched the magic in the mirror as Cleo’s long artist fingers worked.

“I feel, as his cousin, I can say this without sexualizing. He’s got a great ass.”

“I have noticed that truth.”

“Plan to do more than notice? I’m talking about this to distract myself, so indulge me.”

“That was still under consideration until Dobbs had one of herwild tantrums. He came after me and Pye, and he didn’t bitch about it. He said he’d have done the same thing. So I plan to try him on when the time seems right, and see if we fit in this elemental area.”

“I suspected as much.”

“No rushing in. I think, I really think, what needs to happen at the manor needs all four of us. Since I firmly believe that, I’m not going to mess it up for sex.”

“I think you’re right about the four of us, and I don’t think you’ll mess things up.” After another bite of bagel, Sonya reached for her Coke. “He doesn’t strike me as the type, any more than you are, to let sex interfere with friendship and family. The four of us are both.”

In the mirror, Cleo smiled at Sonya. “We are, aren’t we? And that’s what’s going to beat her. And this hair? If I do say so myself, is perfect, and is going to add another reason they’ll want to hire you.”

“The hair’s great, and you were right about eating something. Also—you’re on a streak—right about the outfit, even though I now have to put these murder-my-feet shoes on.”

Cleo patted her shoulder. “Suck it up.”

Sucking it up, Sonya put on the shoes and rose to study them both side-by-side in the mirror. Cleo had gone with a mustardy yellow that brought out not only the varied tones of her hair but her eyes.

And worked—like magic again—with Sonya’s coral.

“I see the genius in your plan. Female, but not soft. We look like spring done in strong colors.”

“Nothing stuffy or expected. Smart women who know how to take the time to put themselves together well.”

“And now I’m not as nervous.”

“Look confident, be confident,” Cleo declared. “Let’s get this party started.”

What nerves remained, Sonya knew she’d handle. The drive to the Ryder building gave her time to settle into herself. She knew what to do and how to do it, so she would.

The rest? Out of her control.

She parked in the underground garage of the many-storied brick-and-glass building, shouldered her laptop case as Cleo shoulderedhers. Between them, they carted the displays, the box of folders for the attendees to the elevator.

“What song do you think Clover would play now?” Sonya wondered.

“Ah… Let’s go with Kesha and ‘Woman.’”

“That’s it. That’s the perfect one. We’re motherfucking women.”