Page 82 of Break the Ice

He smiles. ‘OK then. So next question, Mom also wanted to know what you’re wearing to the party. I think I may have forgotten to tell you it’s all themed.’

I grab another half of bagel and eat it with both hands. ‘Themed? Like fancy dress?’

‘No, like there’s a winter snow theme or something. It’s colour coded, so we can only wear black or white.’

I scrunch my face up and slap him on the arm. ‘Joshua, a girl needs to know these things. We talking Met Gala or glorified prom, because all I brought are slutty cocktail dresses with big slits. They are glorified lingerie, no bra, no knickers sort of dresses.’

His eyes open wide. ‘But why?’

‘To make Avery jealous, no?’

‘Oh,’ he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘Then yeah, maybe not. Do you have anything classy?’

I laugh and a bit of bagel flies out of my mouth. Not so classy. ‘Joshua, what’s your vision here? You want me to go First Wife classy or Emma Stone classy?’

‘I don’t know what that means. I mean, you’re already pretty. Wear what you like. I don’t know how to describe dresses or how they work. I’m just telling you there’s a theme.’

I smile at hearing him say that I’m pretty, and push his shoulder playfully, because he always says it matter-of-factly and blushes slightly. ‘What’s your mum wearing? Maddie?’

‘Maddie is in white with feathers. My mom is in a dressy pants thing, like a romper.’

‘You mean a jumpsuit?’ I say.

‘I guess.’

‘Shall I go head to toe in white faux fur?’ I suggest.

‘Like a polar bear?’ he says.

I laugh but I see that look in his eye which questions if I’m being serious or not.

‘Well, whatever you want or choose to wear,’ he says, and sighs. ‘It does mean we may need to go… shopping.’

I laugh as that last word pours out of him so painfully. ‘You sound like you were about to break me some bad news there.’

‘I hate shopping. With a passion,’ he replies succinctly.

‘Bullshit. You haven’t shopped with me.’

‘I have. We shopped for meal deals that time,’ he reminds me.

‘And for your saucy fisherman trousers with all the pockets.’ He laughs at that, his face lightening at the memory. ‘It’ll be fun. I can buy souvenirs too. I’ll need to shave my legs though. And figure out American dress sizes. Oh my, this is doubly exciting! What a day! I’m so psyched,’ I say, holding my cup of coffee aloft. I whip off my covers and Joshua sees I’m sitting there in just my t-shirt and knickers. He looks down for a moment and then back up at me, a look of complete bewilderment in his eyes.

‘It’ll be sooo much fun!’ I say.

‘It will?’

‘Have we not met?’ I ask him, putting my hands on his shoulders. ‘Trust.’

THIRTY-EIGHT

JOSHUA

I think I don’t like shopping as I’ve been traumatised by trips with my mom, who still likes to follow me into a changing room to make sure the sleeve is just the right length. But also because of trips with Avery. Avery was not an interactive shopper. I was the bag-holder, the guy sitting on the comfortable sofa waiting while she had discussions with stylists in little rooms before appearing again with a big bag. We’d stop for matcha, which she’d sip on occasionally, so I’d be the one holding the cup, wondering why I wasn’t being asked for my opinion, just sitting there scrolling on my phone, waiting like some sort of accessory because she couldn’t be seen to be shopping alone.

Phoebe is different though. As soon as she saw Bloomingdale’s from the street, she was there, clapping her hands, running across the road and nearly getting hit by a cab. And she’s still marvelling at all of it, and takes the time to tell me what she likes – the way it’s wrapped in chrome, the striped awning with all the flags, the chequerboard floor, the art deco features. ‘Look at all the BAUBLES!’ she screamed, to the amusement of a lady on the beauty floor. And she stops at every escalator to chat to the greeters and the security guard. They are paid to say hello and wish us a good day, but she takes it as a genuine invitation to open a chat. I like your waistcoat, Marlon. How long have you worked here? What did you do for Christmas? It’s a wonder we’ve got anywhere so far but it’s different to how I usually shop. Her excitement is mildly contagious.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to look at the boutiques downstairs?’ I ask her now, as we stand on the escalators, knowing that is where my shopping experiences usually take me.