Chapter 17

“Paisley,” Brittany drawled, false pity masking amusement. “Don’t stand between Mom and me. I don’t want the gown anymore.”

Christina’s icy gaze burned. “Get out of here before you embarrass yourself further.”

Suddenly, Emery appeared, a vision in a stunning gown. “What’s all the fuss?” she demanded, shoving Brittany aside and positioning herself beside Paisley. “You’re causing a scene in my shop?”

Christina and Brittany, momentarily stunned, plastered on sickly-sweet smiles. “Ms. Collins,” Christina began smoothly, “my daughter would love this gown. We’ll pay anything.” She stepped forward, pulling Brittany with her.

Emery raised a hand, stopping them. Her gaze swept over Brittany. “This gown’s custom-made for Paisley. Your daughter looks like a teenage boy. Think she can pull it off?”

With a flourish, Emery linked arms with Paisley. “Sorry, dear,” she purred, “seems some cockroaches just crawled in.”

Paisley bit back a laugh.

Christina sputtered, her face crimson. “Paisley, you…”

Brittany stood frozen, shocked. Paisley was friends with Ms. Collins? Everything shifted.

Emery’s expression remained cool. “Still here? Waiting for me to kick your asses?” She didn’t care who heard.

“Kick us out? Do you know who we are?” Christina’s voice was sharp, yet vulnerable.

Emery’s eyes gleamed. “I don’t care. Get out, or I’ll have security remove you.”

The onlookers grew, phones recording the drama. Brittany tugged at her mother. “Mom, let’s go.”

Christina, remembering Brittany’s crucial role in a major production, reluctantly agreed. Before leaving, Christina shot a venomous glare at Paisley. “You’re cut off from our family!”

“Pfft,” Emery muttered dismissively. “Shut up, you pathetic wretch.” She waved them away as if swatting flies. She then ordered the staff to clean, as if the pair had tainted the store.

Paisley chuckled, feeling a surge of warmth. “Okay, enough! Lunch?”

“Starving,” Emery said, pulling Paisley toward the door. Paisley’s phone rang.

“Rena’s kindergarten,” she whispered, her stomach plummeting.

She answered, her face draining of color.

“What’s wrong?” Emery asked, concern etched on her face. “Did something happen to my goddaughter?”

Paisley shook her head, still in shock. “Rena… she was in a fight. She hit two kids.”

Their lunch was forgotten. As Emery walked Paisley to her car, she praised, “My goddaughter is amazing, so tough.”

Paisley was far from amused. Nerves tight, she sped toward the kindergarten, every second agonizing.