Alyssa’s voice floats down the hall, laughing at some rom-com she’s watching. I hesitate, then push away from the sink. Screw it. I need backup.
I find her in her room, stretched across her bed with her laptop propped on her knees.
“Hey,” I say, hovering in the doorway. “Got a sec?”
“Always. What’s up?”
I step inside and gesture helplessly at my dress. “I’m supposed to look like a person who has their life together. I feel like ... this isn’t it.”
She narrows her eyes, assessing the damage. “I think you’re half a bad shoe choice away from panic spiral. But we can fix this.”
Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing in front of her full-length mirror, hair half pinned back in a way that softens my face. She’s layered a cream cashmere wrap over my dress, and somehow, it pulls the whole look together.
“You look amazing.”
I squint at my reflection. “I look ... fine.”
“You look hot, but in a respectable way,” she insists, planting her hands on her hips. “Seriously, your ex is gonna forget how to speak when he sees you.”
I smile faintly. “Not really my ex anymore, is he?”
“You nervous?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Maybe a little.”
“It’s understandable. Meeting the parents is kind of a big deal.”
I hesitate, chewing my lip. There’s so much I haven’t told her. About the whole history, about how I wasn’t just some girl Warren dated—I was the girl who stole from his family. The one who lied. The one whose mistake made everything fall apart. And Warren’s stepdad blamed him for it.
I don’t want to ruin this whole roommate slash friend thing. Not when they’re just starting to really like me. Not when I’m just now letting myself believe I might actually deserve it.
“I’ve met them before,” I admit. “A few times, actually.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Yeah.” I exhale shakily. “But ... the last time I was really in Warren’s life, I made a mistake. And if they knew ... I mean, if they found out, they wouldn’t exactly be thrilled that we’re back together.”
She’s quiet for a second. “Are you gonna tell them about it tonight?”
“I don’t think I can.”
“Hey,” she says softly. “Whatever happens, you’re still you. And they’d be lucky to have you in Warren’s life. Try and remember that. You’re a catch.”
I let the words settle for a moment. I’m starting to believe them, little by little. Being back with Warren, opening up again—to new friends, new chances, new versions of myself—it’s made something shift. I feel more like a person. More like I belong.
“Thank you for saying that.”
She grins and squeezes my arm. “Jordan and I will be here when you get back if you want to debrief. You know, in case it’s a whole thing.”
“It’s probably gonna be a whole thing,” I mutter.
“Then we’ll have wine,” she says brightly. “But really, Quinn, good luck out there.”
Two short knocks at the door jolt me upright. I glance at myself one last time in the mirror, adjusting my hair and smoothing the cashmere wrap over my shoulders. Then I blow Alyssa a kiss, grab my purse, and head for the door.
Warren stands on the other side in a black short-sleeved button-up, the top few buttons left undone just enough to reveal the silver chain against his chest. He’s wearing light linen pants that hang low on his hips.
It shouldn’t work. The shirt is a little too unbuttoned, the pants a little too laid-back. But somehow, he pulls it off. He looks unfairly good, like he just stepped out of an upscale bar where he’d been laughing with friends over whiskey and soft lighting. All casual confidence, all heat and ease.
