Chapter 4: The Fitting

The bridal shop on Bull Street smelled like steam and tulle.

Corinna stood on a round platform in a mermaid gown the color of cream, and three women with pins in their mouths circled her.

I sat on a velvet bench in a lilac bridesmaid dress with my arms crossed.

"Pins," said the head seamstress through her teeth. "Miss Candler, the other one, would you fetch the long box from the back?"

"I'll go," Corinna said at once, before I could stand. "No, wait. Jolene, you go. I'd wreck the hem."

"Why does everyone in this city call me the other one?"

"Because you're the only one who answers to it."

I went through the beaded curtain into the stockroom.

It was narrow and warm, lined floor to ceiling with white boxes, with one bare bulb and a dusty fan.

I found the long box on the third shelf and stood on my toes for it.

Behind me, the curtain rattled.

"Corinna said her phone was back here," said Sullivan.

I didn't turn around.

"Her phone is on the platform. I watched her put it down."

"Then she sent me for a reason."

He had stopped just inside the curtain.

I could see him in the little mirror on the shelf.

He was tall in a grey suit, with his hands loose at his sides and his eyes on my back.

Eleven days had gone by since the Marlowe.

Since then we had stolen four more nights at my apartment, and I had not been able to think about anything else.

"You shouldn't be here," I said.

"No."

"Go back out."

"No."

I put the box down on the shelf.

I was twenty-six, he was thirty-three, and neither of us cared how that looked.

Then I turned, took him by the tie, and pulled him against the boxes with his back to the wall.

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