Page 71 of Gatsby's Starlet
Lucy glanced around again, her expression lighting up even more. “Okay, this is even better than I pictured. You did all this?”
“Yeah,” I said, the answer coming easier this time. “It’s kind of my thing.”
“It’s more than a thing,” she said, already drifting toward a rack, her fingers brushing over a line of dresses as she shook her head. “It’s a problem for my bank account, that’s what it is.”
That pulled a small, real laugh out of me before I could stop it, easing the tension just a fraction, while Zeynep’s smile stayed softer, quieter, her gaze moving more carefully over the shop, taking things in piece by piece instead of all at once, and when her eyes came back to me, there was something there, something observant, something that felt like she saw more than she was saying.
“This place looks like you,” she said gently, and the words landed deeper than they should have.
“Thank you,” I said, quieter now.
Lucy held up a vintage leather dress, already halfway lost in her own excitement. “Tell me you’ve got a fitting room, because I am absolutely trying this on.”
“Back there,” I said, pointing, more grateful than I should’ve been for the shift, for the movement, for something normal to hold onto, and she disappeared without hesitation, leaving me alone with Zeynep in a quiet that felt heavier than it should have.
“You stay busy,” she said after a moment, her voice still soft but carrying something more now, something careful, like she was picking up on things I hadn’t said out loud.
I nodded, folding my arms loosely, more for something to do than anything else. “Some days more than others, but it pays the bills.”
Her gaze lingered on me a second longer than it needed to, steady without being intrusive, and then she turned slightly, beginning to browse.
“Where do you find all this?” she asked.
“Estate sales, yard sales, auctions.”
“It feels like treasure hunting.”
“That’s exactly what it is,” I said, a little more easily. “At least to me.”
She paused at a display, her fingers brushing lightly over a porcelain figurine while her other hand drifted absently to her stomach in a small, protective motion that looked unconscious, grounding in a way I couldn’t ignore.
“My mother used to say,” she continued after a moment, her tone thoughtful, “when something follows you home, it’s because it isn’t finished with you… and sometimes you don’t realize what you’re part of until it’s already too late to step out of it.”
The words settled wrong, too close in a way I couldn’t explain, my breath catching just slightly as I held her gaze,because it didn’t feel like she was talking about objects anymore, even though nothing in her expression gave that away.
“I’ve heard things like that,” I said finally, forcing a small shrug even as my pulse ticked up. “Haunted items, dolls… things people don’t want to let go of.”
Her gaze lingered just a second longer, not accusing, not suspicious, just… curious, in a way that didn’t make sense.
Lucy’s voice broke through from the back before anything else could be said. “Evie, I need your opinion immediately!”
Relief came faster than it should have, and I moved toward the fitting room, leaning against the frame as Lucy turned in front of the mirror.
“It looks good on you,” I said.
Zeynep nodded behind me. “It definitely screams Lucy.”
“Spinner’s gonna love it,” Lucy said, already sold.
“I would shop for clothes,” Zeynep added as she drifted back toward the displays, “but being pregnant I’ll just keep getting bigger… those ballerina figurines, though, I’ll be leaving with those.”
“Take your time,” I said. “If you need anything, just let me know.”
I turned back toward the counter, picking up the dress I’d been working on earlier, my hands moving automatically, smoothing fabric that didn’t need smoothing, but my attention didn’t stay there, because it kept drifting back, to Lucy, to Zeynep, to the way her hand had rested over her stomach without thinking, to the quiet steadiness in her voice, to how easily they fit here in a world that didn’t feel complicated to them, and the longer I stood there watching, the harder it was to ignore what was settling in underneath everything else, not loud or dramatic, just unavoidable, because whatever Drago had planned, whatever I’d stepped into, it wasn’t something I could pretend would go away.
***
CLOSING THE SHOPtook longer than it should have, not because there was more to do but because I kept stopping, my hands moving through the motions, folding, straightening, locking the register, flipping signs, while my mind stayed somewhere else entirely, circling the same thoughts over and over like if I turned them enough times they might land differently, even though they never did.
