Sympathy shined in Autumn’s eyes as she assessed my face. “Once the bruising fades and Brenna gets your weight back up, you’ll be good as new. Beautiful as ever.”
I snorted. I wasn’t beautiful. I had an interesting face and unusual eyes but no one could ever say I was beautiful. Micah used to, but that was different. Beauty was in the eye of the beholder and all that crap.
“Enough of that,” she tutted at my wordless disagreement. “Look at your eyes, for Christ’s sake. And those lips!”
I squirmed, hating compliments. “My eyes . . . heterochromia.” I had one hazel eye and one gray-blue eye. “They’re weird. Austin used to say ‘Here, girl!’ when he wanted to talk to me. Like I was husky. I have a bump in the bridge of my nose. And my lips? Too big for my face.”
“Maybe right now they are because your face is too wee but once you put on some weight, you’ll be back to your lovely self. And Austin, whoever he is, is an arsehole for referring to you as a dog.”
“My bandmate. He’s like a brother.”
“Brothers are always charming that way.” She gestured to the shopping bags. “I brought you quite a few pairs of jeans and some shirts in both the sizes Killian gave me. I also got you some new underwear and socks.”
My pride was pricked. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“It’s no big deal. I used Killian’s credit card.”
“Oh, well then, let’s see what you got.”
She laughed and put her purse down on the counter. “Okay, we have some time before Brenna gets here.” She grabbed up the bags, all of them, and strode into the bedroom.
I stared after her. Was she was seriously going to stay in there with me while I tried on the clothes?
“You coming?”
I guessed that was a yes. Feeling uncomfortable about undressing in front of a stranger, I walked slowly into the bedroom. She’d thrown the bags on the bed and was emptying them.
“Um, I can handle it from here.”
“Won’t you need a hand? The cast?”
“Oh, I’ll be fine. I can dress myself.”
“But it’ll be quicker with my help.”
“Look, you seem very nice—so nice, in fact, I think you should get a DNA test to make sure you and O’Dea are actually related—but I don’t know you that well and I’m a little uncomfortable stripping to my underwear in front of a stranger.” Weird, it hadn’t bothered me so much at the swim center, but that was different. I never saw those people again. I didn’t know them.
Signing this contract with O’Dea implied that Autumn would inevitably be around more. I didn’t want to be in her company knowing she’d seen my scrawny ass at its worst.
Huh. I guess I did still care, I thought, not happy about that realization.
“Oh.” She shook her head, her auburn tresses bouncing like a shampoo ad around her shoulders. “Of course. I’m sorry. I . . . I can be a little too enthusiastic and I don’t think. I just . . .” She fingered a cute Ralph Lauren tee she’d bought me. Wow. When she shopped, she shopped. “I want to be helpful.”
More curious about her and O’Dea than I wanted to admit, I found myself taking a step toward her. “Are you O’Dea’s PA or something?”
She frowned at me. “Why don’t you call him Killian?”
Because it was too personal. He wasn’t that to me. He was the guy corralling me into the fame pen again. I shrugged. “So, you’re his PA?”
“No. I’m between jobs at the moment. When Killian asked me to help out, I jumped at the idea. He told me a little about your story and I,” she bit her lip, “you deserve to get your life back on track, Skylar. Anything I can do to help . . . you know I’m here.”
“But you don’t even know me.”
Her eyes dimmed with sadness. “I . . . I kind of know what you’re going through. Not totally . . . but I lost my parents a long time ago.”
O’Dea had lost his parents? “I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t know them so well. I was only six. Killian was eleven.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated. Truly sorry. “I get it.”
“Well.” She gave me a shaky smile. “Here I am. And I want to help.”
More curious than ever, I eyed the clothes, trying to sound casual as I asked, “So . . . does O’Dea do this with all his new artists? Send his sister to look after them, cook them meals, buy them clothes?”
“No.” Something in her tone brought my gaze back to her. She was staring at me speculatively, a little smile playing around the corners of her mouth. “He doesn’t.”
My breath caught. Clearing my throat, I gestured to the bed. “You did all this in a day?”
Autumn laughed. “Oh, I am a champion shopper. Killian told me he hired a personal shopper for you and I promptly made him cancel that appointment. Now, I don’t know your taste or what suits you best but you pick what you like out of this stuff and then when your weight is back to normal, I’ll take you shopping. We’ll need to get an everyday wardrobe with some nicer pieces thrown in just in case. Don’t worry about the album and promotional photography. Killian will bring in a stylist with amazing choices for you for that.”
I tried not to hyperventilate at the thought. “Let’s just concentrate on this stuff.”
“Okay, well, I’ll wait outside. You got any orange juice?”
“In the fridge.”
“You want some?”
“Sure.”
I waited for her to close the door behind her before I turned and looked to the bed. Exhaling slowly, I reached for the hem of my shirt.
This was it.
Everything was changing again.
IT WASN’T A SURPRISE THAT Autumn had great taste. Some of the stuff was a little too preppy for my tastes, but for the most part, she’d intuitively surmised that the rocker girl in me still existed. I had a lot of new chilled-out black slogan tees and a couple of new pairs of jeans. To my relief, I fit into the size UK six, which meant I only needed to get back up one size to feel healthy again.
All I used to wear was skinny jeans because I’d liked showing off that I had an ass and hips. But since those were temporarily on leave, I didn’t exactly suit my skinny jeans. Because of all the walking I’d done, my calves were muscular but my thighs were too lean. Somehow Autumn had thought that through too. When I’d seen the boot-cut Levi’s in the bag, I’d been bemused. But then she explained that they’d be more flattering for my current shape. And she was right. She was kind of a genius.
“You can go back to your skinny jeans when Brenna gets a little more meat on you.”
By the time Brenna came to the apartment, I felt almost stylish again. Well, you know, except for the bruising and crazy hair.
Brenna was in her late thirties. She and Autumn had met when Autumn was doing a degree in food science. Brenna had been a guest lecturer. Autumn didn’t finish the degree but she made a friend for life in Brenna despite their age difference.
Tall, slender, with short dark hair, Brenna had glowing copper skin that made her look younger than her age, and maybe that had something to do with healthy eating. More than likely. I was a great believer in the benefits of good diet and exercise.
“How I’d usually start is asking you to keep a food journal for a week and we’d go from there, correcting where we needed to,” Brenna said. “However, I understand that this is a different situation. So, if you’re comfortable to speak about this in front of Autumn, can you talk to me about your eating habits over the last few months?”
She was standing across the island from me, sipping tea, and I got that she was trying not to be interrogative. Autumn sat next to me on a stool.