wallpaper. Though that went against everything female inside her, it was still tempting. Not that Zoe the Harpy would let her.
In the end, she’d decided she was actually going to pull a Peter—get in, get what she wanted, and get the hell out before the fireworks started.
Zoe flopped onto her back on Claudia’s satin bedspread and heaved an exaggerated sigh as she lifted her sandal-clad feet into the air and pointed her painted toes toward the ceiling. “All I’m saying is that you should at least think about wearing something sexy. It would be good for your ego, especially now. You can go, devastate him wearing one of your new fabulous dresses, and leave him breathing hard.”
“This from the woman who won’t even give a certain lawyer a chance? I find it hard to believe you feel that way.” Claudia stuck her tongue out, but then immediately turned serious. “And it’s not that simple. Sure, the awe at my current beauty would be great, but what if Peter tries to talk to me? What do I do then? ‘Hi, Peter, how are you? It’s been a long time. Oh, by the way, your son is growing like a weed and becoming a wonderful person along the way, but I guess that wasn’t important enough for even a phone call in the last ten years? Your whole family was able to connect with this great kid in some way, but not you.’ That would go over really well.” Her voice almost dripped with sarcasm. She took great satisfaction in slamming hangers back and forth in her closet, looking for something to wear that said, “I did fine without you, now go home!”
Zoe had been only fifteen when Peter left Claudia pregnant, but she was one of the few people Claudia had confided in when she was scared, terrified of giving birth and doing it alone. Of all people, Claudia thought her sister understood. She’d been there when Claudia had peed on the first pregnancy indicator—and the second, and the third. She’d gone with Claudia to all her doctor’s appointments. She’d held Claudia’s hand when Claudia had told their parents that she was going to have a baby. Why was she pushing so hard, knowing so much about how this was not some lark?
For her part, Zoe wasn’t without sympathy. “I’ll tell you what, Claude. I’ll walk in first and do reconnaissance. I’ll keep him distracted and won’t let him talk to you at all. But I still think you should wear the sexy outfit, or at least one that shows off a little cleavage. And your hair has to be perfect. He needs to pay at least a little for walking out.” Zoe stopped and stared at her feet as she rotated her ankles clockwise—her only brush with exercise.
“I’m not interested in him paying for anything.” But in her head she couldn’t deny the little spark of something that said it wouldn’t be a bad thing to look great when she had to face Peter again. She’d ignore him, but if he couldn’t ignore her… Well, maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
She shooed Zoe out and got down to the business of looking fabulous. She ignored the ringing phone, trusting Zoe to get it while she pulled out her brushes, compacts, lipstick, and eyeliner.
“Are you ready?” Zoe called through the door twenty minutes later. Thankfully, May had chosen the day the shop was closed to have this lunch, since everyone was involved, but Zoe was driving her crazy with being a time cop.
Claudia thunked her head against her dressing table. This was such an incredibly, horribly bad idea. What had she been thinking? She couldn’t sit in the same room with Peter without a care in the world. She had been thinking exactly nothing. She shouldn’t be going at all.
“Come on, Claude. We need to leave right now if we’re going to get to May’s on time.” She banged on the door this time, probably to emphasize her point.
Not that Claudia needed any kind of emphasis. Her stomach was already heaving with rabid squirrels.
More knocking.
“Damn it, Zoe, I’m coming.” Shoving herself up from the padded vanity chair, she took one last minute to check her hair and her makeup. She looked fine. She wasn’t going to worry about it anymore. Either she was ready or she wasn’t. It was as simple as that.
And beyond that, she wasn’t the one who had left. He was, so he should be the one worrying