I jerked back from her as if she scalded me. “Shut up, Nadia, you don’t know jack,” I snarled. “Don’t ever say his name again. He’s a—” I caught myself when her eyes flared wide. I couldn’t betray Elizabeth.

“He’s a what?”

“Nothing. Just stay away from him—and me.”

She gasped but quickly recovered. “Why? You can’t just say that and not follow up.” She hitched her bag up on her shoulder. “Is he not who I think he is?”

Dax smirked and raked his eyes over her. “Is anyone? Sometimes you have a girlfriend who says she loves you but then she screws a Ninja Turtle.”

She reddened, her eyes glaring. “Stay out of this, Dax. I’m talking to Declan. Not you.”

He nudged his head at me. “Look at him, Nadia. He isn’t thinking about you or your shit. He was over you the day you cheated. He wants Elizabeth. Scoot on along now little slag.”

Her lips tightened. “I know what that word means.”

“Indeed,” he smirked. “That was my intention.”

She flicked a strand of hair and huffed, but he wasn’t done yet, and I wondered if it was because he’d never seen me this worked up over a girl.

“By the way, I hadn’t had a chance to say anything to Declan yet, but I ran into one of your sorority sisters at the Tau house last week. I flirted a bit—as I usually do—and suddenly we were involved in a deep conversation about you. She just so happened to mention that your mum is not at home these days, but is in fact currently on a two-month-long cruise around the world. Interesting. It must be hard to get chemo out on the ocean.”

She paled, her eyes flaring wide. “Wha—What? Who told you that? She—she’s home.”

He smiled. “Then why are you stuttering? The thing is, I’m guessing you made that story up so Declan would talk to you again so you could manipulate him into feeling sorry for you and eventually taking you back. It needs to stop, Nadia.”

Several seconds went by until finally her shoulders dipped in defeat. Tears spilled down her cheeks. She turned to me, a pleading look on her face, and I read the truth there. I expected her lies to bother me more than they did, but the truth was I hadn’t loved her enough, and the only feeling left was pity.

All my emotions were too wrapped up with Elizabeth. She was all I could think about.

I exhaled heavily and walked away.

I didn’t have shit to say to either one of them.

I just wanted to be alone.

And later? I wanted to fight.

I HATED THE color pink, any shade of it.

The soft pink like you’d see on a baby blanket, the hot-pink shade of lipstick that Mama sometimes wore, and even shades of maroon pricked at me. For two years now, the mere idea of wearing that color made my stomach churn. My prom dress had been a glittery, delicious pink, the shade of strawberry ice cream, with sparkles.

But as Shelley and I walked down Freemont Street on our way back from my meeting with Sylvia Myers for my jewelry interview, I came to a complete halt in front of a consignment shop window. I’d been in the store before to hunt through their old books or to look for good quality used clothing. The artist in me loved the unique and eye-catching window displays the owner put together.

Today, the display blew my mind. Everything was pink.

Shelley stopped next to me, her fashion designer eyes raking over the ensemble inside. “You like the dress? Kinda dated for you, don’t you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” I said, my eyes running over the window. At the ceiling were pink papier-mâché clouds with a crystal chandelier hanging in the middle. Below that was the only mannequin, a tall blond wearing an empire-waist dress with heavy lace dripping from the sleeves and the tea-length hem. It was romantic and pink , and nothing I would ever wear—yet something about it called to me.

Next to the mannequin rested a pink and white distressed desk with an old typewriter and a collection of books on top of it, their spines facing outward, giving me a clear view of the titles. Pride and Prejudice was right on top. Darcy came to mind … then Declan.

I sighed, my eyes taking in the dress, part hippie chick, part vintage— and probably out of your budget , I reminded myself.

“It looks like someone vomited up cotton candy everywhere,” she said. “Besides, I thought you boycotted pink?”

True. “I wonder how much it is?”

“This place is reasonable. Plus you’ve got some money now.” She grinned widely and leaned in to give me another excited squeeze. She’d been bouncing along beside me since we’d left the interview, and her enthusiasm was contagious. I smiled back. I had to admit, I was giddy myself considering Sylvia had just offered me a thousand dollars for three of my jewelry drawings which she’d then hand over to her artisans in Ashville to recreate.