Page 100 of American Royals
It was enough to halt Samantha’s hurricane of motion. She froze, dresses sliding out of her arms to tumble in a heap to the floor.
She stepped over the couture as if it were a pile of Kleenex and enfolded her friend in a hug. “I hated fighting with you.”
“It was the worst!” Nina exclaimed. “I’m sorry I lashed out at you like that. It wasn’t fair of me. I just felt so rattled, by the paparazzi and all those commenters.”
Sam took a step back. “I’ve been thinking about what you said, about the way I’ve treated you. I’m really sorry,” she said fervently. “I hate that I made you feel that way.”
“A lot of it wasn’t your fault.”
“Still. Will you tell me how I can do better, moving forward?”
Nina smiled. “Right now you can watch me work through this enormous stack of gowns, and provide running commentary.”
“That, I can definitely do,” Sam assured her, and began to collect the scattered gowns from the carpet.
What a relief to know that with everything else going wrong in the world, this was one thing that had managed to right itself, after all.
As Nina tried on one dress after another, she and Samantha caught up on everything they had missed over the past several weeks: Nina’s reconciliation with Jeff, and the fact that Nina had gone shopping with Daphne.
“That’s really weird,” Sam said bluntly. “Ex-girlfriends don’t just go shopping with current girlfriends, not of their own free will.”
“That’s what I thought, too. Who knows, maybe she hoped someone would report the whole thing to the tabloids, and it would make her look good.”
That was certainly plausible, but Sam couldn’t help thinking there was more to the story. It felt a little too convenient to be a complete coincidence.
“Besides,” Nina added, lifting an eyebrow, “you have no room to talk. I seem to remember you taking shots with Daphne on New Year’s Eve.”
Sam laughed; she’d almost forgotten about that. “Only because I couldn’t find you!” she protested.
Though it had been kind of fun, trying to peel back the layers of impeccable behavior that encased Daphne like armor.
“What about you, Sam?” Nina asked. “Are you okay, with all the news about Beatrice and Teddy?”
Sam nodded slowly. “Beatrice and I talked. It turns out we’ve both misunderstood each other for a while. As for Teddy …” Her voice caught a little; then she forged on. “I’d be lying if I said I was thrilled about it, but Beatrice has her reasons for marrying him. And it’s not like I can stop her. So I’m trying to get over it, as best as I can. Finding things to distract myself with. Speaking of which …” She looked at Nina’s gown, which was covered in fluffy pom-poms along the bottom, and choked out a laugh. “You look like cotton candy that went through a shredder. Next.”
“You and Beatrice are friends now?” Nina shook her head as she stepped out of the offending dress. “Just how long have we not been talking?”
“Too long.”
“What caused you guys to make up? Did you find a common enemy or something?”
Yep. My dad’s cancer.
Sam bit her lip against the words. She wanted to tell Nina about her dad’s prognosis. She’d wanted to call and spill everything to her best friend from the very first moment she heard the news.
While unloading that secret might make her feel better, it also felt unbelievably selfish. It wasn’t really Sam’s secret to share. And honestly, she didn’t want to put the weight of her dad’s illness on another person’s shoulders. Especially Nina’s—not after everything she had recently been through.
Right now, what Sam and Nina needed was to keep playing this very elaborate game of couture dress-up.
“I guess Beatrice and I just had some catching up to do,” she offered by way of explanation. “You know what they say, sisters before misters.”
Nina snorted. “I don’t think that’s a real saying, but I’ll let you have it.”
Sam took the reject gown, smoothing its straps over the velvet hanger, then passed Nina a soft blue one. It spilled out into the room around them, a waterfall of pale silk.
“And on the bright side, hasn’t Beatrice’s engagement diverted the media attention from you and Jeff?” Sam watched as Nina stepped into the dress.
“Some, yeah. It’s just disheartening, how many people hate me who’ve never even met me.”
