Page 117 of Beauty
“Noah,” she chides, her attention darting away, like she can hide from me.
“Good night, Sienna.”
Two days later, that conversation runs on repeat in my head. And when we touch down in Boston, all I want is to see her.
I’m praying to the elevator gods as I step into the building, hoping the doors will open and she’ll be there. Ollie FaceTimesme as I step out into the hall, so I deviate from the plan and unlock my door so I can talk to him about his day. The whole time, I leave my door ajar, certain I’ll catch her coming home. When that doesn’t pan out, and after I’ve said good night to my son, I stalk down the hall and knock on her door.
Screw serendipity. I’m making my own luck.
THIRTY-SEVEN
SIENNA
“They’re gorgeous,”Liv breathes as she flips through the designs.
“How in god’s name are you going to choose between them?” Lennox leans over her shoulder, her lips parted in what might actually be wonder.
Internally, I squeal.
I nailed it.
The girls came over to see my new place since their men are still traveling, and after a tour, we relocated to Hannah’s apartment. It’s easier this way, since her place is babyproofed. Millie left Vivi with Beckett and Winnie so she could play with the twins, but Taylor, Maverick, and Beckham are all here.
It’s wild the way my family exploded practically overnight. And I’m constantly impressed with how hands-on my brothers are with their kids. Especially since our parents were never around. They clearly didn’t model the nurturing ways the guys have all adopted.
“The better question is, can you make one before the gala? It’s in two weeks.” Liv flips through the designs again, a longing look on her face.
Warmth blooms in my chest. It makes me happy to do this for her. Honestly, I missed working with individual clients once my brand took off. Creating designs for mass consumption meant I missed out on moments like this.
Taylor is snoozing in my arms while Sara takes a break. She’s across the room on the couch, eyes closed, wineglass in hand, and a smile on her face. According to her, she’s immersing herself in this moment and memorizing what it’s like to have four free limbs again.
I think she might have a bit of a buzz going.
“It’s not a problem. I’ll have all three made by then. That way you can try them on before you decide.”
“Oh my god, seriously? I’m so jealous,” Lennox whines. “If she doesn’t like one, can I have it? I don’t care which. I’ll wear any of them.”
Liv giggles, picking up her glass of wine. “Pick your favorite. I’ll choose between the other two.” Nose scrunched, she turns to me. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Hey, what about me?” Sara whimpers, her eyes still closed. “I need a dress.”
Hannah appears with a platter of cheese, laughing. “Look what you started.”
Ava follows her in and sets a bottle of wine on the table. Then she takes the spot next to me on the floor and settles Beckham in her lap.
“Let me put Beck in the playpen with Mav,” Hannah says, holding her arms out. “Then you can relax.”
With a shrug, Ava hands off her son. Then she takes a long, slow sip of her wine, like maybe she’s almost as overstimulated as Sara is after all the solo parenting she’s done this week. “Josie is so excited for the gala. Our final dress fittings are on Saturday.”
Lennox bounces, her smile bright. “What is our little princess wearing?”
Ava pulls her phone out of the side pocket of her cream-colored leggings and swipes a few times, then holds it out to us. In the image, Josie is wearing a hot pink dress with sequins on top and a puffy skirt created by layers of chiffon over tulle to keep its shape. Her strawberry blond hair is pulled back in a long braid, and the smile on her face is infectious. “Scar’s is the same style in light pink. They’re both thrilled.”
“Oh my god, they are my favorite ever.” Hannah groans. “Tell me your dress matches.”
Ava laughs, her shoulders bouncing, and tucks her loose red hair behind her ears. “If it came in my size, I’m sure they would have insisted. Mine isn’t quite so poofy, and it’s a much deeper pink.”
“I’m thinking of wearing magenta,” I tell her. “I’m not really a pinky-pink girl.”
