Page 2 of Maybe This Time
I propped my phone against the back of the faucet and examined the mystery package.
“Would you stop asking questions and just open it,” she said impatiently. “I’ve been waiting an entire week for this.”
“Always so dramatic.” I laughed, grabbing a pair of pruning shears I’d forgotten to put back in my greenhouse to cut through the packaging tape.
I blinked in confusion when my gaze landed on a black envelope that had a single cursiveMembossed in gold on the front, sitting on a luscious velvet fabric.
“Josie, what is this?” I asked, grabbing the envelope and trying to figure out why the logo was so familiar.
“Your outfit for tonight,” she explained, as if I should know what that meant.
My gaze landed on hers. “What do you mean ‘my outfit for tonight’?”
Excitement filled her brown irises as she clapped her hands together. “You’re going to Mystique.”
You’ve got to be shitting me.
CHAPTER 2
TALYA
“I can’t believeyou’re making me do this.”
“Would you quit whining and put it on?” Josie huffed out, rolling her eyes.
“Always so bossy,” I grumbled as I grabbed the dress from my bed.
She shooed me away with her hand. “Yeah, yeah. Now go get dressed.”
I’d just spent the last thirty minutes doing my makeup under her very strict guidance because she’d always been better at it than I was and put my hair up in a French twist as she’d strongly suggested. My sister had always been bossy, and don’t get me wrong, I loved that about her, but she’d been particularly demanding tonight.
“You owe me,” I called out, stepping out of my bedroom.
She chuckled and muttered something under her breath, but I’d already made it to the bathroom across my bedroom to decipher what she’d said.
I didn’t care about changing in front of my sister—we’d shared a bedroomanda bathroom for the majority of our lives—but I needed a minute to myself before I officially committed to her antics.
I’d only heard of Mystique in passing from Josie vaguely recounting her visits to the elite club since the place was very particular about who it let inside its premisesandwhat could be said about it outside of it. I didn’t know how whoever owned it could figure out if someone shared what went on inside the club, but according to my sister, people were fined and had their membership permanently revoked for crossing the rules.
Her vague stories alone should have dissuaded me from saying yes. I knew I should have pretended there was a power outage and hung up on her, but I could never say no to my sister. No matter how outrageous her ideas were.
But not only was the club not my scene, tonight was their infamous Halloween night. It wasn’t that I hated the spooky holiday, but as years went by, I’d slowly grown to resent it. When I was younger, I thought it was the coolest thing ever to have my birthday on the same day and my parents would throw these elaborate themed parties to celebrate.
Now it felt like my birthday was always overshadowed by something more important. Sure, I wasn’t big on celebrations, and almost everyone I cared about lived far away, but I would be lying if I said that I didn’t miss being… celebrated.
I loved my sister and I knew she would be here if she could, but dressing up as a glamorous version of Poison Ivy and having to socialize with strangers hadn’t been on my bingo card for today.
Yet here I was, slipping on the midi dress my sister had gotten fromthecloset at Femmora’s headquarters, where they kept pieces from past collections because Josie thought it’d be a nice play on the fact that I loved plants. I did, in fact, roll my eyes when she told me, but it was either go along with her plans or suffer her chatty wrath until I agreed.
I tied the fabric that made up the deep plunge halter neckline into a double bow around my neck so I wouldn’t risk flashing anyone. I’d rummaged through my dresser for an appropriate bra to wear with the dress, but with how low the back was, nothing I owned would have worked.
When I finally looked at myself in the mirror, my eyes widened. I loved getting ready and dressing up for work even though most days I was elbow-deep in dirt, but I almost didn’t recognize the person staring back at me.
From the green metallic smokey eye that highlighted my hazel eyes to the bold crimson matte lip that I would have never dared to wear. And as much as I hated to admit it, the dress fit me perfectly.
I ran my fingers over the velvety fabric that hugged my curves in the most flattering way and complemented my sun-kissed skin tone almost too well. Even my recently dyed cherry red hair felt like the perfect final touch. Thanks to my 3:00 a.m. mental breakdown from two weeks ago over needing a change, I wouldn’t have to wear a scratchy wig to complete the look my sister seemed to have carefully curated.
“It shouldn’t take hours to put on a dress, Talya,” I heard my sister yell from my bedroom, her mixed accent peeking through. We grew up with our parents only speaking to us either in Italian or Moroccan Darija since it was imperative to them for us to be fluent in both languages, and although my sister and I mostly spoke to each other in English, our accents poked through when emotions were involved.
