A few minutes later when Brynn stepped out in a red halter dress, the realization that her baby sister was almost grown hit Allie over the head. In a couple of years, she’d be off to college, their dad would probably be remarried, and Monica would be a jaded twentysomething. Where did Allie fit in?
“No, I don’t like the red. Allison?”
Allie reined in her thoughts. She stared at Brynn then scrunched her nose. “No, not that one.”
“Next,” Mags said and sipped her sparkling cider. She winced slightly. “Not the same as Dom, is it darling?”
“Thanks for doing all this, Mags. Brynn’s loving every minute of it. Sometimes she gets lost in all of Monica’s drama.”
“Well, I never had any daughters of my own. Unless you count my three stepdaughters, and I don’t. This is quite fun.”
A few hours later, Brynn had narrowed it down to four dresses—one deep blue, two black, and one white. She lined them all up on a rack and with her hands on her hips, stared at them. “What do you two think? I just can’t decide.”
Mags raised her brows. “No, it’s quite impossible. We should just get them all.”
“Mags, no,” Allie protested.
But she couldn’t be heard over Brynn’s whoop of excitement. The girl ran and threw her arms around Mags’s shoulders. “Thank you so much.”
“No, Mags, it’s too much,” Allie said.
“Nonsense. I’ve decided to wear seven dresses on the big day. Four seems almost paltry.” She smiled at the saleswoman. “Ring them up, dearest.” Then she walked to the front of the store, leaving Allie and Brynn alone.
“I can’t believe I get four dresses.” Brynn grinned and took another sip of cider. “I’m so excited.”
“And ready for your next dance. Or three.”
“She’s so nice, Allie. When you and Trevor get married—”
Allie held up her hand. “Whoa, what? Trevor and I aren’t getting married, Brynn. I have no idea where you came up with that.”
“Sorry, Al. I didn’t mean anything.” Brynn looked a little wounded.
“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. But Trevor and I aren’t a couple.”
“You guys live together. I know you don’t really work for him, Al.”
Allie scrambled to come up with something. “But I do. I’m his assistant.” It sounded false to her ears, but she was sticking with it.
Brynn looked at the floor. “I’m not a little kid. You don’t need to keep lying to me. It’s kind of insulting.” Pressing her hand to her stomach, she trailed after Mags.
Allie glanced up and saw her reflection in the three-way mirror. She was such a liar. But how could she admit the truth when she could hardly look herself in the eye?
“Darling, come along,” Mags called from the front of the shop.
In the limo, Allie rode to the mansion in silence as Brynn and Mags chatted about the wedding. Staring out the window, she watched the throngs of people walk along the strip, mostly tourists with cameras and phones in hand, but some had the weary air of crash-and-burn gamblers. She could relate. Being in debt to Trevor made her feel like one of those desperate souls who risked their last chip on the roll of the dice. And came up snake eyes.
“You’re very quiet, dearest.”
Allie pasted on her best customer service smile. “No, I’m fine. Now, we have to think about shoes for Brynn.”
Mags slapped a hand over her chest. “How silly of me to have forgotten.” And she was off, discussing the merits of various designer shoes.
Allie stared out the window once more.
As soon as they reached the house and stepped inside, Monica, who’d been gripping the rail on the second floor, pounced on Allie. “Where have you been?” Her hair flew back as she jogged down the stairs. “I’ve been waiting for you for like, hours.”
Mags patted Allie’s arm as she left the foyer.
“Hello to you too.” Allie glanced at Brynn. “Get your stuff together and I’ll run you home.”
“Seriously, Al,” Monica said. “I need to talk to you.”
“So talk.” She watched Brynn meander toward the staircase.
Monica threw her hands up in the air. “My life is shit, Al.”
Yeah, this was familiar. Crisis time. She turned her attention to Mon. “Tell me what happened.”
“Never mind. You don’t care. You’re too busy hanging out with Mags.” She reached out and tapped on the suit of armor, causing the hollow ring to fill the room. “This is your life now.”
Allie’s well of patience had run dry. She’d spent the afternoon with two adolescents, Brynn and Mags, and she’d had her fill. “I’m not going to beg you, Monica. Tell me if you want, but if you don’t, I need to drive Brynn home.”
Monica’s brow rose. Usually, Allie would coax and cajole her sister into spilling her guts. Then she’d try to fix it, give advice. Look how well that turned out. No, this time, she was going to treat Monica like an adult. She was going to follow Trevor’s advice and do nothing.
“Don’t you even care that I had a huge fight with Brad? You’re probably glad about that. You never liked him and you don’t even know him.”
Allie’s eyes grew wide. “Why are you mad at me?”
Monica stepped toward her. “You live with Trevor now, so you don’t care about the rest of us. You have designer clothes and go shopping all day with his mom. I heard Frances say he fixed your car. You’re just fucking him so he’ll buy you shit. You’re a gold digger.” She spun and ran up the stairs. A few seconds later, Allie heard a door slam.
God, she wished her mom were here to deal with this. She sighed. No, that wasn’t true; Allie wished her mom were still alive because she missed her so damn much.
***
Later that evening, when she stepped unnoticed into the drawing room, she was ten minutes late. She caught Trevor checking his watch, a look of irritation on his face. He probably just didn’t want to be alone with his parents one minute longer than he had to.
Nigel, drink in hand, held court next to the fireplace. “Shot an eighty-two today, Trev. I dare you to beat that score, Son. We should get a round in sometime this week.”
“I have a little habit I perform during the day. It’s called work.”
“Nonsense, dearest, you work too hard.” Mags sipped on something pink and, when she lifted her head, noticed Allie. “Oh, tell him.” She waved Allie into the room. “Tell my son he works too hard.”
Allie rubbed her hands along her silk-covered hips and walked toward them. She felt like a fraud. She needed to remember she wasn’t here as a guest or as a part of the family. She was the hired sex help. “Sorry, Mags, but it’s not my place to tell Trevor anything.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Let me get you a drink, Allison.” Nigel mixed up a cosmo and handed it to her.
Allie felt the weight of Trevor’s gaze as she sat on the sofa. “I don’t know if Monica will be down. She was pretty upset this afternoon.”
“She’ll come around,” Mags said. “I’ll check on her later. By the way, rose is a very lovely color on you, Allison. We’ll keep it in mind when we go shopping tomorrow.”
Allie felt her cheeks heat and took a deep, uncomfortable breath. “Okay.” Such a fraud. She shouldn’t be shopping with Mags, making friends with his mother. When would she get it through her head that this was all temporary? And as soon as Allie got used to it, Trevor would get bored, and she’d be back in her North Las Vegas house with its peeling paint and whiny refrigerator, wondering what happened.
Trevor stalked over to the sofa and sat down next to her, almost on top of her, completely invading her space. She knew he didn’t like being ignored and would force her to acknowledge him. He was so damn pushy. That’s one of the things she loved about him.