Page 132 of With a Cherry On Top

When Sadie nods, the light has returned to her face.

And you know what?That’sfucking magic.

I bitemy nail as Charlotte paces back and forth, surveying the pale blue dress—or rather, what’s left of it—spread across the living room table. She brings a hand to her chin, humming thoughtfully.

I’ve missed her so much all weekend, but Beatrice wouldn’t let her out. She wasn’t at home all day today either, and I cooked only for Beatrice. Through her absence, I kept thinking about Friday. After the shower, I rubbed the towel all over her, then dried her hair. And then...then we spent all night doing everything butthat. We kissed for hours, gave each other some pretty unforgettable orgasms, and eventually fell asleep in each other’s arms.

I thought I knew happiness, but then I woke up to her sleepy face and she wished me good morning from the pillow beside mine.

Sadie, crouched beside the dress, covers her face with both hands and watches Charlotte through the gaps between her fingers. “Can you fix it?”

Charlotte turns to me, and the second I see her face, I know the answer.

No, she can’t.

Fuck.

“Okay, here’s the thing.” She lowers herself to her knees, her elbow nearly touching Sadie’s, and leans in to whisper conspiratorially. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of your dad, because he got it for you, but this dress?”

She scrunches her nose.

Sadie’s gaze drops to the tattered fabric. “You don’t like it?”

“Oh, it’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong.” Charlotte waves a hand. “It’s just...you know your dad. He doesn’t know the first thing about dresses.”

Sadie nods, hanging on to her every word.

“And this color?” Charlotte brings a hand to her chest. “It’s all wrong for Mother’s Day.”

“It is?!” Sadie’s jaw drops.

“Absolutely. Pale blue? For a recital in themorning? Pfft.” She clicks her tongue as if the thought is simply ridiculous.

Sadie nibbles her lip, her face twisting with worry, and I warn, “Charlotte.”

What the hell is she doing? I called her tohelp, and I get that the dress might be unsalvageable, but this sure isn’t helping.

When she shushes me with a flick of her fingers, Sadie says, “Daddy said I should wear the purple one with the big skirt.”

Charlotte gasps. “Abigskirt? Do we want everyone to see your underpants every time you twirl?”

Sadie’s eyes widen in horror. “No!”

“Exactly.” Charlotte nods.

“What about the orange one with the flowers?”

“No, no.” Charlotte takes Sadie’s hand and leads her to the armchair, where she’s dumped rolls of fabric and four tote bags overflowing with supplies. “This is an important recital. You’re going to need anewdress.”

Sadie’s eyes dart between the bags and Charlotte’s face. “But where will we get it?”

“We willmakeit.”

Sadie’s hands fly to her cheeks, her entire body practically vibrating with excitement. “Really?”

“Absolutely. You pick the fabric and I’ll do the rest while your dad makes us hot chocolates.” She tosses me a wink. “Your dad’s better in the kitchen than he is with fashion anyway.”

Very funny.

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