Page 67

Izzy chanced a glance behind her. Gwen looked miserable. “Maggie, I’m so sorry,” she said, taking a tentative step forward. “I should’ve double-checked?—”

Maggie finally moved, running a hand through her blonde hair before pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. Her breathing had gone a little too shallow, a little too fast, and Izzy recognized the signs of an anxiety attack.

“It’s fine,” Maggie said, her voice oddly and terrifyingly detached. “I’ll just — I’ll wear something else.”

Kiera and Danica exchanged a silent, panicked conversation via eyebrow movements. Before Izzy could stop them, Kiera said in a voice that was half-strangled with panic and half-desperate with optimism, “Or, we can fix it!”

Maggie dropped her hands, looking at Kiera with flat skepticism. “Fix bleach? Is there some magic un-bleaching potion I don’t know about?”

Kiera, undaunted, announced, “I have a Sharpie.”

A long, tense silence ensued.

Izzy blinked. “I’m sorry… what?”

Kiera ignored her, already digging through her purse. “Look, we just color it in, and no one will notice. It’s mostly at the bottom of the dress anyway. Who is staring at your hemline during a funeral?”

Maggie stared. Then looked at Danica. Then back at Kiera. “You’re actually suggesting that I color the dress that I am wearing to my mother's funeral with Sharpie.”

Danica sighed, rubbing her temples. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… Kiera might be right.”

Maggie, to everyone’s surprise, didn’t immediately shut it down. She looked at the dress again, brows drawn tight, jaw tense. Then, slowly, painfully, she exhaled. “...If it looks terrible, I am not liable for any ensuing homicidal rage,” she warned.

“It would be deserved,” Kiera said solemnly, pulling a marker out of her bag with a large smile.

Izzy watched warily as Kiera and Danica dropped to the floor near where Maggie sat on the bed, Sharpie in hand, and got to work. Danica held the dress taut while Kiera scribbled.

Gwen, still hovering nearby, shifted uncomfortably. “Baby, I really feel awful about this.”

Maggie shook her head, rubbing at her face. “It’s fine,” she muttered, voice tight. “It’s not a big deal.”

Maggie, whether she realized it or not, had been keeping a space between them.

Worse yet, Gwen didn’t seem to be pushing to close it.

Izzy watched Gwen’s face carefully. Her expression was frustrated but muted, like she wanted to argue but didn’t know how.

A few minutes later, Kiera and Danica sat back, surveying their work like two proud artists unveiling a masterpiece.

“Okay,” Kiera said, wiping her hands dramatically. “It’s done.”

Maggie leaned forward cautiously, inspecting the freshly Sharpied section of her dress.

After a long pause, she narrowed her eyes. “I cannot believe I’m about to say this, but… it actually looks fine.”

Kiera grinned. “Told you. We’re professionals.”

Izzy couldn’t help noticing how adorable Kiera was with her self-satisfied smile.

Danica stood, dusting her skirt off. “Crisis averted. Now, go get dressed.”

Maggie exhaled slowly, then stood, rolling her shoulders like she was physically shaking off the stress. “Yeah,” she murmured. “Okay.”

As she disappeared into the bathroom to change, Izzy exchanged a glance with Gwen. Gwen looked… adrift, hollow.Izzy didn’t know what to do with that. Instead of acknowledging it, she turned to Kiera and Danica, arms crossed.

“I can’t believe you just Sharpied a funeral dress,” Izzy said, completely deadpan. “How do you sleep at night?”

“Danica snores,” Pete said, and Izzy turned to find Pete leaning against the doorframe.