Maybe I did need that sweater after all. I spun around to face it. The salesgirl was standing an inch away from the glass.
I shrieked.
“What’s wrong with you?” Ryan’s voice grated my ear.
“Me?” I had to go in the store now, or Ponytail might call the police. I lowered my voice to a hiss as I wrenched open the door—and was immediately assaulted with the scent of peppermint. “I’m almost thirty and unemployed. At least my crazy has an excuse. What’s yours?”
Ponytail approached, wariness lurking in her smoky eye shadow. “Can I help you?”
“Tell her you’re beyond help,” Ryan joked in my ear.
“I’d like to see that sweater in the window, please.” I lifted my chin, like I was a legitimate shopper with adult money and supposed to be there.
Her gaze swept over me. “What size?”
God bless her for not guessing. “Medium.”
She bustled over to the window, ponytail swinging across her narrow shoulder blades.
I turned my attention back to Ryan, ducking behind a table laden with red nail polish and Santa-shaped bath bombs. A tween next to me was digging through a box of elf-patterned makeup bags. “Ryan, I’m apparently wearing a blue sweater at some point over the holidays, if that answers your weird question.”
“It helps a little. But lose the sweats, got it?”
“Oh, right. Because of myfriend?” I accepted the sweater from the salesgirl, nodding my thanks as she held open the dressing room curtain. I hated shops that were too fancy for doors.
The curtain swished shut behind me, and I debated whether to actually try the top on. Literally nothing between my dignityand the entire city of Detroit except a thin layer of polyester. I’d never understand people who lived their lives without good old-fashioned locks.
Ryan cleared his throat, and I could picture him shoving his glasses up on his nose. “The friend is Nick Kinsley.”
“Your co-worker?” Oh, forget it. How much dignity did I really have left, anyway? I put Ryan on speaker and wrestled out of my coat.
“Yeah. You met him that time you came through town and had lunch with me.” Ryan’s tone grew pointed, buzzing through the phone speaker. “Thatonetime.”
I tugged my shirt over my head and tossed it on the bench next to my jacket. “Spare me the guilt trip. The highway runs both directions, big bro.”
Ryan tsked into the phone. “I would make a comment here about being super busy with my job, but it’s probably too soon for work jokes, huh?”
My throat knotted and I paused. “A bit.” Not that I would miss the next ten days of creating holiday social media reels.
I would, however, miss things like being able to afford rent and groceries.
Ugh, enough of the Christmas carols playing overhead. I made a face in the mirror as I fiddled with the sweater, trying to find the neck hole. Store window aside, the Santa bath bombs should have tipped me off that Michael Bublé was inevitable. “So why are you bringing Nick? And why are you calling him my friend? I met him for, like, ten minutes.”
He’d been cute enough, and funny. He’d joked around with me while I waited for Ryan to finish tweaking his latest ad, which, for my perfectionist brother, took forever. Nick finally had to wrestle the mouse away from him so we wouldn’t miss our reservation.
Ryan let out a breath loud enough that my cell hummed with static. “Nick needed somewhere to go for Christmas.”
“Oh. Well, that’s nice of you.” Awkward, but a nice gesture. Though, on second thought, maybe having a stranger there would calm some of Mom’s holiday crazy and we’d only have to trim one tree.
I twisted in the mirror. I was right about the blue making my red hair pop. And only slightly off about the sweater hitting the perfect spot on my hips. Maybe if I paired it with a pencil skirt instead of jeans—
“Plus Nick’s single…”
I shot a look at my phone, half-covered by my coat. “What’d you say?”
“You’re single…” Ryan’s voice grew softer, as if he knew he’d delivered the death blow.
I froze. My reflection froze back.
