Page 92 of Break the Ice

I take a peek in one of the bags. ‘Hershey’s Kisses?’

‘For my nieces. Try one of those cronuts, they truly are elite.’

I don’t quite know how to tell her that spending a morning with her wouldn’t have been babysitting, it would have been kinda cool. I like the Guggenheim, I could have showed her my favourite paintings. I bet you queued for that cronut too and I would have queued. With you, for you. God, I even sound soppy in my own head. I snap myself out of it.

She shakes out her hair and walks on through to the kitchen, everyone watching her, in her big leopard print fleece and thermal leggings.

‘Hey, everyone,’ she says with a big grin on her face, studying the crowd. It’s a group of people who’ve been at the house since about midday, who are scrubbing and shining my mom and sister to within an inch of their lives. If I sound judgemental, I am not. They’ve also done wonderful things to my cuticles.

My mom in a white satin robe, hair pinned in curlers, raises a hand to greet Phoebe.

‘Phoebe, you’re here,’ she says, a cup of green tea in her hand. ‘We were worried. Lyle, this is Phoebe… didn’t I tell you the hair was fabulous?’

Lyle is my mom’s hairdresser, and is dressed head to toe in black, with Gucci loafers. He pouts his lips at Phoebe and nods in agreement. ‘Gorgeous.’

‘Honey, you use everyone here as you wish, they’re here till we leave, OK?’ my mom says, just before the roar of a hairdryer drowns her out. Phoebe turns to me, a fixed smile on her face as she leads me back to the living room, away from the crowd of people.

‘Joshua…’

‘Phoebe…’ I like the way she leans into me conspiratorially.

‘This is like a glam squad. This is fancy.’

‘Is it? I wouldn’t know. This is what they do before parties. Avery has this too. Is this not normal?’

‘Hon, before I go to a party, I put on some Rihanna, have a cider and shave my legs off the edge of the bath,’ she tells me. ‘I see champagne. Posh ass picky bits. There’s a whole pot of capers.’

‘For the lox.’

‘Dude…’

‘You don’t like capers?’ I ask her.

‘No. I’m saying this is fancy shit. I bought soup dumplings in a polystyrene container. I can’t put that next to capers. I’m going to have eat them in the basement like a troll.’

I try not to laugh. ‘I like soup dumplings. We could eat them together.’

She smiles at me and I sigh a little at her wonderment at what’s happening next door, the fact that she views it as so abnormal, that she thinks she doesn’t deserve a bit of pampering.

‘All the clothes arrived too. Bloomingdale’s got it all delivered. Your dress is in our room when you’re ready.’

‘How long have we got?’

‘Trayvon and Lenny pick us up at six.’

‘We’re not taking the subway?’ she jokes, then looks at me and smiles. It’s a different look to the one I’m used to. Her gaze moves around my face as she studies my hair, the line of my jaw. She then nudges me with her elbow, playfully. ‘Come, I bought twenty bloody dumplings. You like rice rolls too?’

Looking at myself in the mirror of my room, I feel like a grown-up for the first time in my life. I used to be some strange man-boy wearing a suit that didn’t quite sit right at the shoulders but now I have found tailoring. I’m cinched in at the waist, Lyle has put something through my hair, another man called Tito gave me a wonderful shave and I feel party ready. I’m just glad my pants still fit after all those soup dumplings. It’s been quite a frenetic if fun five hours. Phoebe still wanted to put on Rihanna, so she’s been on in the background as we’ve all got ready, but it’s been a mix of lotions, potions and high emotions because Maddie can’t decide how to wear her hair. All the while, a fire has roared in the hearth and the snow has continued to flurry down outside. There’s a knock coming from inside the bathroom as I try to work out how to tie my tie.

‘You can come through.’ The door opens slightly and a hand pops out, waving.

‘Is it all clear? Are you clothed? I know how scared you are of nudity,’ a familiar voice sounds and I turn swiftly, mildly excited to see her, knowing she’s been putting some finishing touches to her look in the ensuite.

‘I am. You may enter the room,’ I say.

When she does open the door, I’m speechless for a moment as I take Phoebe in. I’ve obviously seen the dress before but it’s the way she wears it; her golden curls are all shiny and glossy, she’s not opted for too much make-up but has more mascara on, and there’s a touch of shine to her cheeks. I exhale softly, and chuckle as she poses. ‘Ten out of ten, no notes.’

‘Why thank you kindly, sir.’ She turns so I can do the clasp up on her dress, and I have to flex my fingers back and forth, wondering why my hands are so clammy.