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19

LIZ

Why am I such a fool?

Checking myself out in the mirror, first turning one way and then the other, I study my face as if seeing it for the first time.

It would be easy to paint on my society face like I used to – carefully contoured cheekbones, neutral eye make-up, subtle blush. All blended and blended and then blended some more. Just as I was drilled into doing since I was sixteen.

But I don’t want to look like that version of myself. Not when I’m about to meet my sister.

On the other hand, besides my brothers’ weddings where there was a make-up artist on hand, I haven’t had to get ready for any special occasions since I decided it wasn’t my right tobeElizabeth Moore anymore.

I fan out the sides of my short silk robe, trying to stop the stress sweat from pooling under my arms.

Then, ignoring the line-up of cosmetics, I give myself a sharp look. ‘Get a grip, Lizzie.’

First things, first, I apply an extra layer of deodorant.

Feeling better – and dryer – I re-order my make-up by application. Face, eyes, cheeks, lips.

I bypass the foundation, having never liked the feel of it on my skin, and grab liquid eyeliner. Even though I bought it because it looks and feels just like one of my artist pens, I never wore it to a society event.

Stanley Moore thought liquid eyeliner whore-ish.

With a mentalfuck you, Stanley, I apply it now, my familiarity with drawing helping me flick it up at the ends in a subtle cat-eye.

Feeling more confident, I add mascara before grabbing a coral lip gloss, quelling the inner voice telling me the color is too bright. A voice that sounds very much like Stanley Winston Moore.

‘Fuck you.’

‘Excuse me?’

I jump, my eyes shift in the mirror, catching Felix staring at me from the doorway. ‘Oh. Hey.’ I gesture stupidly to the mirror. ‘I was, uh, just talking to myself.’ Or my absent, incarcerated not-father. But whatever.

‘I’m not sure why you sound so angry.’ His eyes travel from my bare feet to the top of my head where my hair is clipped up in a messy bun, out of the way of my make-up application. ‘Because you look fucking fantastic.’

My glossed lips curve into a smile. ‘You know I’m not dressed yet, right?’

He shrugs, the move doing incredible things for his white button-down shirt. ‘You look even better not dressed.’

‘Well.’ I fan my face, my current hot flash having nothing to do with stress. ‘Aren’t you the charmer?’

‘Of course.’ Holding my eyes in the mirror, he pushes off thedoor frame, slipping his arms around me from behind. ‘If you read the gossip columns, you’d know all about it.’

‘Good thing I don’t read the gossip columns then, huh?’

‘Yeah.’ His eyes turn oddly serious. ‘Good thing.’

Before I can ask after that comment, he dips his head and kisses my shoulder. When he raises his head again, the serious expression is gone, replaced with a smile and roaming hands.

‘Excuse me, sir.’ I grab the hand squeezing my ass and dodge out of his hold. ‘Some of us have to finish getting ready or we’re gonna be late.’

He shrugs. ‘So we’ll be late.’ He tries dragging me closer again. ‘No big deal.’

I dodge him again. ‘Itisa big deal.’ Pushing at the back of his shoulders, I evict him from my bathroom. ‘I want to make a good impression.’

He pouts. ‘On Park In-Su?’