Page 79 of Fashionista's Playbook

“Good.” My mother nodded and marched in. She stopped briefly to give my arm a pat, as if remembering she wasn’t at war.

The movement was very much like my grandfather. Thinking of him, reminded me of how far I’d come in the past few months. He’d be proud.

“Thanks, kiddo.” Dad grinned and wrapped me up tight.

I let go of Travis to hug him back. I clung to him, crying a little. He smelled of Lagerfeld cologne and home—everything that had ever been warm and safe to me.

“Look at you, got this old man blubbering like a fool.” He chuckled as he pulled back to look at me, swiping at his eyes.

“You must be Travis.” He released me to shake Travis’ hand. “Thank you, for inviting us.”

“Anything for Moriah. Glad to have you here.” Travis’ smile made me proud. Everything about him did. If I could have pulled him into a corner and kiss him stupid right then, I would have.

He turned then, to make introductions. The next few minutes were a whirlwind that somehow included all seven feet and three hundred pounds of DT crawling around on the floor with one of my nephews on his back.

DeSean snapped a video. “You best believe this is going on my page.”

Everyone was laughing, happy, standing in the living room. Which gave me enough time to sneak into the dining room and set three more places at the table. My sister had followed me and I did my best to ignore her, taking special care with each new set of silverware I laid out.

I even moved chairs into place to keep from acknowledging her. My movements were calm, easy even. But my heart pounded in my chest. The last person in the world I wanted to have a conversation with was Elise.

“Steven and I are divorcing.”

Old Moriah would have commiserated with her, told her how sorry she was. New me couldn’t quite keep the bitterness from her voice. “I really don’t care.” Those four words had a freeing effect, emboldened me.

Elise’s eyes widened and she took a step back as if I’d slapped her. “Well.”

I shook my head, held strong, even as I clutched a chair back to hide my trembling fingers. “You don’t get to show up here and play victim. If I’d wanted you here, I’d have invited you.”

My nephew Ryan, the oldest at about six, and looking very much like his father peeked around her side. Big eyes swept from me to his mom a few times before settling on her. When she glanced down at him, sadness on her face, guilty niggled at me.

“Aunty MoMo isn’t happy we are here, is she?”

The memory of her face twisted in a cruel, gleeful grin tore through whatever sympathy I’d had for her. The chant that haunted me through most of my adult life played in my mind.Pigmo. Pigmo. Pigmo.

“That’s what you taught your children to call me?” My voice sounded flat, like all the emotion had been sucked right out of it. Maybe it had.

She blinked, then scowled. “Mo?”

“Yes.”

She leaned down and whispered to Ryan. “Go find PopPop.” Then she straightened and met my gaze. “Are you still mad over the Pi—”

“Don’t you dare.” Seething anger burned at my cheeks. I was a breath from making a fool out of myself. The only reason I hadn’t yet, was I was in Travis’ home with people who were important to him.

She seemed legitimately surprised. “Wow. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize a stupid prank had such an effect on you.”

I almost choked. “You can’t be serious. Why would you think I haven’t spoken to you since that night?”

“Steven, duh. You always had a thing for him. We all knew you didn’t show at the wedding because you were jealous it wasn’t you.”

This time, I laughed out loud. Manic, delirious laughter that rolled out until tears streamed down my face.

“You completely humiliated me in front of everyone I’d ever known, and you thought I wanted your jerk of a husband? You could not possibly be any more self-absorbed.”

“Don’t make fun of me.” She stiffened, eyes turning angry. “The only reason you bought into all that nonsense was your crush on Steven.”

“No.” I laughed more. “I fell for it because of a deep-rooted need for acceptance. I definitelyneverwanted your husband.”

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