She shook her head at me, but I was pleased to see her grin, however small it might be.
I picked up the purple frock I’d favored earlier. It had pink flowers and a turtleneck, and the skirt would entirely hide her legs. “What about this one? Isn’t purple your favorite color?”
She rolled her eyes, huffing, and turned back to her reflection. “I’m not ten, I don’t have a favorite color. And I’m not wearing that.”
“Look, the flowers almost look like little mitochondria. Right up your alley.”
“What do you know about mitochondria?”
“I read. The powerhouse of the cell, correct?” Truth be told, I’d spotted a shower curtain with a model of an animal cell on the pages of SkyMall magazine and ordered it for myself. I liked studying it while I showered. Plus, it looked like abstract art.
Her mouth flattened while she fought her grin. “Correct.”
“So . . . this one? With the pink flowers?” I tried again.
“No. I quite like this one.” She turned to the side, her grin breaking free as she inspected herself.
Ugh.
Disaster.
I’d asked Eilish two weeks ago, as soon as I’d been invited, as I had no desire to pretend with someone else. Any other date would require feigned interest and attention. But my cousin, whose company I honestly enjoyed, would be easy.
Plus, no matter my level of disinterest, the idea of arriving with a date when Lucy would be in attendance made my stomach tighten uncomfortably and my head felt too small for my brain. I rather hoped she and I would be able to steal a few moments at least. Eilish would be a valuable ally, covering for us if need be.
But now I suspected I’d be spending the evening warning away horny rugby players from my too-beautiful and unworldly cousin.
Bested by an impish redhead well under a foot shorter than me, I reluctantly presented my credit card to the salesperson who’d been standing at attention, watching our exchange with practiced indifference. “Anything she wants, even that ghastly dress.”
Eilish laughed again, tossing a curtain of glossy, perfect hair over her shoulder. She resembled my aunt in appearance and gracefulness of her movements, but their manner couldn’t have been more different.
“Do I really look ghastly?”
“No. You’re gorgeous, but that dress is ghastly. I’ll be fending off lascivious rugby-playing perverts all night with you dressed like that.”
Stepping away from the mirror, Eilish crossed to me. I stood and allowed her to place a light kiss on my cheek. Though she rose on her tiptoes, I still had to bend down in order for her to reach my face.
“You’re quite nice, Sean,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone your secret.”
“I’m not really.” I wasn’t, not usually, at any rate.
“Yes, you are. You’ve always been nice.” She squeezed my arm. “Remember when mother sent me away? I was terrified, and you made me feel better. You helped me be brave.”
“You were only ten, and she was being a bear.”
“You were very kind.”
I shrugged, growing increasingly uncomfortable with the picture Eilish was painting of me. “All I did was hug you.”
“For an hour at least. And then you promised to punch anyone who was mean to me.”
I shrugged again, glancing over her head at nothing in particular. “I didn’t like it when you cried. Plus punching nasty little girls sounded like fun.”
“It worked out though, didn’t it? I was the lucky one.” Her tone had grown introspective and I shifted my attention back to her, found Eilish considering me with a meditative look. “Too bad they didn’t send you away as well.”
The bell to the shop chimed, announcing a new customer. But E and I continued swapping commiserating stares, paragraphs and pages of understanding shared with a single look.
“Have you tried contacting your father?” she whispered, her brow furrowed with concern.
I’d learned the identity of my father after my mother passed some six years ago; he was a German sportsman of some fame. A mountain climber, and more than twenty years older than my mother. Eilish knew because I’d called and told her at the time. Yet I’d taken no action.
I shook my head, deciding I was bored of the subject. “I’m starving, and it looks like rain.”
Food and weather, wonderfully benign as neither required an opinion.
She crossed her arms and glared at me. I could see she wanted to press the issue, but would bide her time. She was devious in that way.
“You just ate an hour ago.”
“I know. I ate a whole hour ago.” I glanced at my watch and gave her a slightly panicked look. “I might die for lack of sustenance. I’m wasting away.”