Page 84 of Snowed In
“Hannah,” I interrupt.
“Right. Sorry. What I’m saying is, I’d love to dress you. If you like it, of course. And if you don’t already have something in mind.” Her face falls. “Do you?”
“No!” Megan says the word so quickly that I know it’s a lie. “I was going to go shopping tomorrow, so you’ll be saving me a whole morning of trouble. That would be incredible, Hannah. Thank you.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And apology accepted.”
Hannah beams at her, and just like that, everything that’s come before is instantly forgotten.
“You’re going to lookamazing,” she says. “Honestly, I’m so good at this stuff. I know just the lipstick to wear with it as well. Do you like makeup?”
“I love makeup.”
“And what cup size are you?”
Megan stiffens. “Uh—”
“Don’t worry,” she says. “I can let it out. Let’s go.”
“Go?”
“We can use my room for the fitting,” she says, grabbing her hand. “I’ll need to start on it now. Unless you guys still need to practice?”
She directs the last bit at me, and I shake my head, trying to hide my smile as Megan sends me a panicked look.
“She’s all yours,” I say and wave my goodbye as Hannah drags her out of the room.
EIGHTEEN
MEGAN
The next few days are taken up wholly by my mother’s party. So much so that I barely get to see Christian because I’m so busy helping put the final bits and pieces together.
On the day itself, Aidan goes early to check on things after Mam had a dream where the food didn’t arrive, while the two of us take our time getting ready. When I was younger, she used to hire a hair-and-makeup girl to come to the house, but the older I got, the more I liked doing it myself.
I’ve always liked dressing up. Clothes. Makeup. Hair. It was fun to me, and though the odd person in my life tried to make me feel vain or vapid because of it, they never succeeded. Show me someone who can draw their eyeliner as sharply as I can, and then we can talk. Tonight, I pin my hair back for an effortless look that takes a lot of work and go for a smoky eye. Red lipstick. Light jewelry. A slightly heavier foundation to see me through the next few hours.
And, of course, Hannah’s dress. A strapless empire-line, emerald-green wonder whose full skirt falls to my ankles in a whoosh of satin that brushes pleasantly against my knees.
She’d meant every word of her apology, as awkward as it had been, and treated me like we were best friends as she spent hours lowering the hemline and adjusting the waist. She chatted incessantly as she did and was incredibly easy to talk to despite her not-so-subtle prods for more information about her brother and me. It wasn’t long before I felt guilty again that Christian and I were lying to her. But when I confided as much to him, he just brushed it off, so I tried to do the same.
I think he was just happy I was getting on with her. That I was getting on with everyone. That’s all he’s ever wanted. In fact, it’s reached the point where I feel like he’s gotten the raw end of the deal. Attending formal functions, getting pool sticks to the face. All I have to do is hang out with his family every now and then, and after the initial nervous introductions, it’s become something I actually look forward to doing.
I’ll make it up to him after tonight. I’ll fawn over him on Christmas Day. I’ll wash all the dishes after dinner and miraculously heal his relationship with his father. I’ll be the best fake girlfriend ever.
“Well now! Don’t you look lovely.”
I dump my makeup bag onto the table as my mother appears in the doorway wearing her favorite purple gown.
“It’s the dress.”
“It’s the girl,” she says, and when I meet her gaze in the mirror, her lips twitch.
I raise a brow. “You’re in a good mood.”
“I’ve had half a bottle of champagne.”
