Page 2 of His Hot Mess

I dug around in my bag for my phone. I wanted to show her the inspiration photos I’d saved, but after rooting around for a good minute while Lucy sighed and leaned up against the glass, I remembered my phone was plugged in upstairs. I’d forgotten to charge it last night.

Scatterbrained Sadie, what else is new?

I sighed, turning back to the papered-over glass. “Can’t you just see me running a vintage clothing store though?”

“Of course I can,” Lucy said. “You would be amazing at it, actually. But Sadie, I’ve seen you get excited about things before. Things that haven’t worked out. I just don’t want to see you get disappointed.”

I scowled.

It was true I got excited about a lot of things that didn’t end up panning out. Like Steve. But this was different. I could feel it. I’d always loved thrift shopping and was amazing at finding gems. All my friends always asked me to dress them for dates and parties. I was good at retail too—chatting up customers and knowing what would make them happy. I just never realized what kismet it was having the two go together, and how important it was formeto run the show instead of doing it for someone else.

I stuffed the drawing in the pocket of my vintage 501s. I knew this dream was the right thing to do, but thanks to Lucy’s reality check, I was suddenly flooded with self-doubt.

“Hey,” Lucy said, recognizing all of my signs. “I’m sorry. I think the store is an awesome idea. Seriously. Dreaming is an important part of the process! You just need to think about some of the practical things too. Like calling the owner to see how much the lease is. And then figuring out how to pay for it. And then writing a business plan, incorporating, registering as a business…”

“Lucy,” I said, “this is important to me. This is different.”

I know I’d said that before. Those very words, in fact. But I didn’t justwantto believe this time. Iknewthis store could be something.

Lucy considered me for a moment. Then she nodded. “I believe in you. And I think taking something on and sticking to it is exactly the right thing to do.”

She was telling the truth, I could tell. My heart softened. Still, I couldn’t let her off this easy.

“So you’re saying I don’t stick to things?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I just know when something isn’t working. I know when to move on.”

“Even when it comes to dating?”

“I told you, I’m not going to date anyone here. I’m focusing on me.”

“Aww, you’re finally letting me coach you!” Lucy said, her grin so wide I had to roll my eyes.

“You should pay me for always being such an amazing guinea pig,” I said.

Lucy laughed. “You’re right. Also, you coach me all the time. I wouldn’t be with Graydon if it weren’t for you.”

I smiled, my heart genuinely full of happiness for my sister. Before Graydon, Lucy had kept her dating life so secretive I was pretty sure it barely existed. She’d always focused on her career ahead of all else. But now, she looked alive in a way I’d never seen before. I knew it wasn’t about ‘finding a man’ for Lucy but about facing her demons and finding love on the other side.

I, on the other hand, was more like our mother. After Mom finally left our jerk stepfather when we were teenagers, her situation didn’t exactly improve that much. She skipped from one guy to the next—still did today. It drove Lucy batty, but I understood why she did it. She was looking for love. Only she wasn’t very good at it. I could relate. I had no trouble falling for anyone with a pulse.

Or at least, I used to be like that.

I put the shop aside for the time being. “Ready for breakfast?”

“Let’s do it,” she said.

I hadn’t gotten Lucy on her own since I’d arrived. I adored Graydon, but I’d been looking forward to getting the opportunity to gush with Lucy about him and the wedding and yes, my grand ideas for the shop.

We were just heading down the street on foot when her phone buzzed.

By the way she flushed pink when she looked at it, I knew it was Graydon. Thank god I didn’t have the same fair coloring as Lucy. Where Lucy had striking red hair, porcelain skin, and endless freckles like our father, who’d died before I was born—I took after our mother, with chestnut hair and skin that at least didn’t immediately turn lobster-red in the sun like Lucy’s.

Being a mess was enough, without people seeing how I felt about it, too.

“Oh,” Lucy said, reading the text with a goofy grin. “Graydon’s downtown too.”

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