and white.
“Perfect.” She waves the shirt like a flannel flag. “Slip this on and roll up the cuffs. You’ve got boots?”
I shake my head, wishing I’d taken time to go shopping. “Not cowboy boots. Would hiking boots work?”
“You have hiking boots?”
I nod, feeling a little silly. “I bought them hoping to learn to hike.” It seemed like such an American thing to do, but I’ve never taken them out of the box.
“There’s not much to learn,” she assures me. “Hiking’s just walking, but outside.”
“Sounds simple enough.” I find the boots and sit down to put them on while Bree hustles behind me and pulls my hair into a simple plait. She even has an elastic around her wrist, which she uses to fasten the end of it before tugging free a few soft tendrils to frame my face.
“There.” She steps back to study me. “You look like a sexy farm girl. We should take a picture for your mom.”
The blood freezes in my veins. I swear my face doesn’t change, but Bree must see something in my eyes. “Did I say something wrong?”
“I’m fine. Wonderful.” I stand up fast and fiddle with the tails on the flannel, wondering if I should knot them.
Or if I should address what Bree suggested. I’ve been here a year. Don’t I owe her that much?
When I meet her eyes, I know I do. “My mother’s not fond of me assimilating into American culture. Or, um…anything that suggests I’m not actively on an airplane making my way back to Dovlano.”
“Say no more.” Bree flashes a sympathetic smile. “You’re talking to another daughter of an overbearing mother. It’s super-intense when you’re her only child; I get it.”
She doesn’t, though. Not really. As she touches my cheek to swipe on a hint of blush, I’m overwhelmed by a deeper urge to share. “I had a brother once,” I whisper. “He died as a baby.”
“Oh, Izzy.” Bree stands back, blinking hard. “I’m so sorry. That must have been hard for your whole family.”
I glance away, not sure I can take the sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sure that’s part of why my mother’s so protective.”
That’s far from the only impact of that tragedy, but I’ve already gone and ruined this perfect sister moment. “I’m sorry I said anything.” I pick up a lip gloss and see my hands are shaking. “What a terrible thing to share with a young mother—”
“Izzy, it’s okay.” She rests a hand on my arm and offers a small smile. “I’m glad you shared, okay? It means a lot to me.”
I nod because I can’t think of anything else to say. “Can you not—um, mention it to the others?”
“Of course.”
I swallow hard and look down at the lip gloss. “Can we pretend I didn’t just ruin the pre-date vibe and maybe talk about something else?”
Her smile feels like a warm hug. “I thought it wasn’t a date.”
“It might be a date.”
“I know it is.” She studies my face. “You like him, don’t you?”
I hesitate. “He’s a very nice man,” I tell her. “Very clean hands.”
She laughs and bends to knot the tails of the flannel. “Whatever turns you on, sister.”
Sister.
My whole life, I wished for a sister. And then I felt guilty because I had a brother and how selfish is it to want more? But I did want more, and I pictured scenes just like this. Sharing clothes, doing each other’s makeup, talking about boys. How absurd that I’m weeks from my thirtieth birthday and only just experiencing it?
The magnitude of that birthday hits me hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. I release a pathetic little gasp as the lip gloss falls from my fingers.
“Got it!” Bree bends down and grabs it, then hands it back. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Positive.” I force a smile. “Thank you.”
“No problem. Let me know anytime you want to talk.”
“I will.”
I won’t, though. How could I? The clock is ticking, and it’s only a matter of time until the charade is up. I glance at my watch. “He should be here any minute.”
As if on cue, my doorbell rings. My stomach unleashes a flurry of butterflies, and my hands start to shake.
“You’ve got this.” Bree smiles, and somehow, I believe her.
“Thanks for your help.” I start toward the front of the cabin and Bree falls into step beside me.
“Don’t mention it. By the way, I’m trying to put together a girls’ lunch the day we all do our final fitting for Jon and Blanka’s wedding.