Declan appeared behind me with his brows knitted into a frown. “I’m so sorry.”
I let out a whoosh of air. Something about him apologizing went through me. “Stop apologizing. I’ll be fine.” I walked into the room and grabbed my make-up bag from the counter. I rummaged through it until I found a concealer, foundation, and some powder.
I marched back into the bathroom and studied the bruising. I palmed my forehead and pulled out my phone, calling Eve.
“Hey, are you okay?” Her worried voice came through the receiver.
“No. I have a massive bruise and gash on my face. Can you come to my room and help me cover it up?”
“What’s your room number?” she asked.
“Fifty-one.”
“On my way,” she said before hanging up.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I stared at my reflection. Insecurity didn’t look good on me, but how the fuck was I supposed to control that now?
“Maggie, I’m sorry.” Declan wrapped his arms around my waist as I stiffened.
A shiver went down my spine. Why couldn’t he just call me what everybody else did? “What did you just call me?”
“Maggie. You said you didn’t like to be called Magnolia.”
I grabbed his hands and moved them off me before I turned to face him. “I don’t like Maggie any more than I like Magnolia. Call me Mags, please.”
His shoulders slumped as he cast his eyes down in a mournful gaze. He’d looked like a kicked puppy, and it sent a pang of guilt through me. “Mags it is then.”
I scratched my arm. “I’m not trying to be a bitch, Declan. I just need some space, okay?”
He shook his head as a knock came from the door. “That must be Evelyn. I’ll leave you to it.” He sulked out of the room, letting Eve inside as he did.
She watched him walk past her and caught the door. “What happened there?” she asked, strutting into the room with a pink make-up bag.
“He called me Maggie, and I told him I didn’t like it.” I rolled my eyes. “Okay, granted, I’ve kinda been a bitch since he came back from golfing.”
And it had nothing to do with Luca—absolutely nothing. Even if I remembered the electricity that jolted from his touch or how close he got to me.
She shook her head with a small laugh. “Oh, Mags. What’re we going to do with you?”
“Fix my face?”
She cringed. “Okay, yeah. Let’s start there. Damn, that’s bad.” She held her hands out. “Hand over your concealer and foundation.”
I walked back to the bathroom to grab them and handed them over. She stared at them with disdain, her lips curling back. “This won’t help you at all. Why do you even own these?” She tossed them on the bed before opening her bag and pulling out a tube of concealer and a bottle of foundation. “You need intense coverage.”
She motioned for me to sit on the bed, and I did. “Stay still.” She unwrapped a large bandage before placing it over my gash. Thankfully, it was big enough to completely cover the gash without the sticky part getting on it.
“How is that going to help?” I pouted.
“Who’s the beautician here?” She opened the tube of concealer and dotted it on my bruised area with the applicator. She grabbed a makeup sponge and a serum of some kind before she squeezed and a couple of drops fell onto the sponge. She pressed the concealer into my skin with it.
“You are,” I mumbled.
“Hush.” She smirked as she grabbed foundation and blended it all over my face with her sponge.
A couple of minutes later, she made a kissing sound. “Ta-da! Beautiful work, if I do say so myself.”
I made my way to the mirror and gasped. “How the fuck did you do that?” The bandage effectively covered the gash and the skin that was stained with bruising was no longer visible. The only downside was that you could tell there was a bandage from right below my lip to the bottom of my chin but only because of the slight rise. Everything else looked a thousand times better.
“I know, I’m awesome.” She winked.
“Yes, you are!” I spun around and hugged her.
She patted my back. “You might want to change. The hair is fine but you need something else on.”
I glanced down at my lounge attire and shrugged. “True enough.”
I grabbed a wine-colored dress from my bag and changed, throwing on some matching flats. “Better?” I twirled around.
“Yes!” She giggled. “Much better.”
I smiled at her carefree attitude. I’d missed this side of her. It was so rare to see her let loose and be herself. “So, spill. How’d you escape the clutches of Gerald?”
She looks at me like the fire in her eyes had just been doused with ice water. I frowned. It was as if she crawled right back inside some invisible shell and no matter how hard I tried she was unreachable once again, just like she had been for the past year and a half since she started dating my shitty cousin.
“You know what? Forget I said anything. Thank you for fixing my face.” I placed a hand on her shoulder.
She recoiled from my touch but pulled her lips into a smile. “It’s kind of my talent you know? Making people feel pretty.”
I studied her. “Why’d you flinch?”
“We should go. It’s already five! Faith’s going to kill us.” She grabbed her things and bolted out of the room with me rushing behind her to catch up.
Gerald was a piece of shit. My whole family knew it, and all our friends knew it. It was why I tried to convince Eve not to go on a date with him in the first place. Every time I was around them I had a sinking feeling in my gut.
A few minutes
