Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“I’m going out to dinner with Cavin tonight, and I do not want Mam breathing down my neck.”
“So you want me to occupy your mother?” he says with a nod. “Fair enough. What time do you need?”
“I guess I need… I don’t know, an hour to get ready? He’s picking me up at six.”
“I’ll have her out of the house by half four,” he says with a nod.
I get up from the table, and he reaches for my hand. “You do what you have to, Erin. Make that man fall in love with you.”
He lets me go and leaves the table. I’m reeling, staring after him.
Make that man fall in love with you.
Since when was that the goal? Isn’t it enough to marry him?
And how exactly does one do that? I don’t know how to make him fall in love with me.
Love me? Sure, no problem, Da. I’ll just figure out which parts of myself to bury so Cavin doesn’t rip the piss out of me like he did in school. Grand.
In the afternoon, I go to my room and set up my tablet with the YouTube tutorials Bridget showed me before she went back to the hospital. Then I get a brilliant idea.
I click video call, and she picks up on the first ring.
But Bridget looks pale. She has dark circles under her eyes. And is that a fleck of blood at the corner of her mouth? I gasp when I look at her.
I need to make it work tonight.
“Hey,” Bridget says with a watery smile. “What’s up? I know, I know, I look terrible. It was a rough night, but I’m feeling a little better.”
Bridget’s a terrible liar.
“Cavin’s taking me out to dinner,” I say with a grimace. “And I need to… Oh god, I don’t know. I need to be ready soon.”
“Where’s he taking you?”
“He just said”—my voice lowers to a deep pitch—‘I’ll pick you up at six. Wear something nice.’”
Bridget smiles, and I swear her eyes have hearts in them like a little emoji. “He did?”
“Yes,” I say, blowing out a breath. “I’m not that impressed, so relax. What should I wear?”
“It’s cute though.”
“It’s not cute, it’s bossy.”
Is there anything about the McCarthy family men that isn’t bossy?
I sigh.
“Okay, you definitely need to wear the ivory dress that dips all the way down in front. The backless one.”
“Bridget!” I scold her.
“I know,” she says with a grin. “But don’t you want this man to be attracted to you?”
I remember the way he looked at me in the club—hungry, like a wolf circling its prey. And somehow… I don’t think that’s a problem.
I didn’t see a purple band on his arm.
Wait a minute. Do the men there wear bands too? I need to find out.
I shrug. “I suppose.”
“Yes! Of course. But wear something beautiful, maybe that emerald dress. Make him jealous. Make him want to protect you.”
I remember the way he snarled in my ear: You come into this club… Men here come with one purpose.
I remember exactly how that felt.
“Alright,” I say. “Sure.”
“Well, your makeup looks beautiful,” she says.
I nod. “It does. Thank you.”
Bridget smiles and giggles, and I’m not sure why, but it’s not that complicated. She showed me a video, and now I know how to do it.
I like to keep it natural. My eyes are brighter. My cheeks are slightly flushed. My lips are full from a lip plumper and stained with something that doesn’t come off when I eat or drink. I’ve had my eyebrows waxed, and I used a little filler brush. She showed me this really amazing mascara that does something called “tubing” that just washes off with warm water. Kind of miraculous.
I look pretty good.
“Alright,” she says. “Go put that dress on. And what did you do with your hair?”
“Well, I just washed it,” I tell her. “And did a little with the stuff you bought me and did a bit of a blowout or some such. It’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it.”
All through secondary school, I had frizz-ball hair. But up until recently, she showed me some kind of method. And I’m not going to argue—it’s nice being able to wake up to luxurious, silky waves.
And when I put that dress on? It’s stunning.
I look at the time. Five fifty.
“What am I going to do for the next ten minutes?” I say nervously.
Bridget giggles and starts coughing. She coughs louder and louder until I feel my own ribs begin to rattle in sympathy.
“You know what?” I say. “I don’t have to go out to dinner tonight. I need to—”
“No,” Bridget says firmly. “You do. You’re doing this for our family. And honestly, Erin, after I hang up the phone, I’m just going to sleep. I just need sleep.”
She needs so much more than sleep.
I draw in a deep breath.