Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
A few moments later, he leaned forward in his seat. “Excuse me. But you’re that bride, aren’t you?” He turned his phone to show me a video that I wished did not exist. “The one that blew up her wedding?”
This wasn’t the first time I’d been recognized, though it had been at least a month or two since the last encounter, so I’d hoped the insanity had finally passed. Guess it hadn’t. People sitting to the left and the right of us on the train were now paying attention, so I did what I had to in order to escape being bombarded with questions once I admitted the truth: I lied straight through my teeth.
“Nope. Not me. But people have told me I could be her twin.” I shrugged. “They say everyone has a doppelgänger somewhere. I guess she’s mine.” After a pause, I added, “Wish it was me, though. She’s a badass, isn’t she?”
The guy glanced down at his phone again and then back up. He didn’t look like he believed a word I’d said, but at least he let it go. “Oh. Yeah, sure. Sorry to bother you.”
Another hour later, the train finally started moving again. No one had even bothered to make an announcement about the holdup. By the time I got off, I only had about twenty minutes before my next interview, and I still had on my cherry-stained shirt. And…I’d dropped a couple more as I binged while sitting on the hot train. So I rushed up the subway stairs, hoping I could find something presentable to wear on the way to my appointment.
A few buildings down from my interview, I finally found a store with both men’s and women’s clothing in the window. A saleswoman with a heavy Italian accent offered to help as soon as I walked into Paloma Boutique.
“Hi. Would you have a cream silk blouse? Or white? Or…” I shook my head and looked down. “Basically anything I can put on with this skirt?”
The woman eyed my top. I gave her credit for not reacting. Instead, she nodded, and I followed her to a rack where she pulled out three different silk blouses. Any of them would do. Relieved, I asked where the fitting room was, and she started to walk me toward the back of the store. But when someone called out from the register, she pointed to a door and barked something at me in a mix of Italian and English. I thought it might be “I’ll check on you in a moment,” but whatever. It didn’t seem too important.
Inside the dressing room, I looked at myself in the mirror. My lips glowed bright red. The pound of cherries I’d eaten on the train must’ve stained them. “Shit,” I mumbled and rubbed at my mouth. But it wasn’t coming off before my interview. Thankfully my teeth had been spared. Those damn cherries had turned out to be a disaster. Though I didn’t have time to deal with anything else, so I shook my head, pulled off my ruined top, and took one of the blouses from the hanger. Before I slipped it on, it occurred to me that perhaps I should clean up a bit. The hot subway car had left me feeling not too fresh. So I grabbed my purse and fished out an old wet wipe from a wing place I’d gone to a few weeks ago. Thankfully, it was still moist. A lemony scent wafted through the air as I raised my right arm to wipe, and I wondered if that smell would transfer to my skin. Curious, I bent my head and sniffed. Which was exactly the position I was in when the fitting room door whipped open.
“What the…?” The man on the other side immediately went to close it. But he paused halfway with his brows knitted. “What are you doing?”
Of course, because my day couldn’t get any shittier, the guy had to be gorgeous. His stunning green eyes caught me off guard, but I quickly regained my wits when I realized I was still holding up my arm and he’d just watched me sniff my armpit.
Flustered, I folded both hands over my lacy bra. “Does it matter? Get out!” Reaching forward, I yanked the door shut, brushing it against the intruder as it closed. “Go find the men’s room!” I yelled.
From the bottom of the door, I could see the man’s shiny shoes. They weren’t moving.
“For your information,” his gravelly voice rumbled, “…this is the men’s room. But I’ll let you wash your pits in peace.”
When the shiny shoes finally disappeared, I blew out two cheeks full of air. This day just needed to end. But I still had one more interview left, which I was going to be late to if I didn’t hurry my ass up. I didn’t even bother to wash under my other arm before trying on the first shirt. Thankfully, it fit, so I changed back into my own lovely blouse and rushed to the cashier while still tucking it in. I expected to see the guy who’d busted into the fitting room waiting around, but thankfully he was nowhere in sight.