She shrugs. “Wendy would live. And so would Erica. She could hire a nanny in a heartbeat. We can totally figure out a way to make this work.”

I look past my phone to the triplets. “Gus, Jack, Mary, say byyyyyyyye, Sierra!”

“Byyyyyyyyye, Sierra!” they chirp back chaotically.

“Bye,” I tell her. “I love you. Call me on Monday when you hear back from them.”

Sierra puffs out a frustrated sigh. “Bye. I love you back.”

After a little while longer out by the pool, I get the triplets out and dried off. Each of them takes a turn using the outdoor shower and then letting me wrap them up in big, fluffy towels.

As we file back in the house, Erica stands. “Cin, take a break. I’m going to stretch my legs and make sure my three little mice get dressed. Besides, I might need you to keep an eye on them tonight if you don’t mind? You don’t have any plans, do you?”

I shake my head. “Not a one.”

“I’m choosing my own clothes!” says Mary before she tears off toward the bedrooms.

“This should be good,” Erica says as she follows behind Jack and Gus.

I plop down across from Beck. “Where’d Anna and Drew go?”

She doesn’t look up from her laptop. “Someplace called Euphora for enough face masks to last them the length of the show.”

“You mean Sephora?” I ask.

“Sure, yeah.”

I trace a knot in the wood of the kitchen table with my finger, waiting for my mouth to open and just say the words. I’ve been hoping for inspiration, for something to get me out of my rut. What if it’s here, right in front of me? Sierra’s getting her shot. What if this is mine, wrapped in a reality-TV-shaped box? “I’m in.”

Beck looks up then and closes her laptop. “Say that one more time.”

I nod. “I’m in. Let’s do this.”

Her eyes brighten for a moment and then immediately narrow into business mode. “Leave Erica to me.”

“I want to tell her.”

Beck grimaces. “You sure about that?”

If I’m going to do this, I need to have a backbone. Might as well start with going up against the will of the fiercest woman I know. “I’m sure.”

Erica sweeps back into the room and reaches for a bubble water in the fridge. After a moment, she glances over her shoulder to find both of us staring at her expectantly. “What?”

I clear my throat. “Erica?”

“Yes, dear,” she says as she closes the fridge with a carrot stick in her hand.

“I’m going on the show.”

She drops her carrot and turns fully to face me with her forehead knotted in confusion.

I stand up from the table. “Beck asked me to be a contestant on Before Midnight and I accepted. If you say no now, all you’re telling me is that Anna and Drew deserve to have a chance to find love—or hell, at least get five minutes in the spotlight—and I don’t.” I turn to Beck. “You two can figure out the logistics, but I’m doing it.”

“Cindy.” Her voice is soft and taken aback. For the first time since I’ve known her, Erica Tremaine is speechless.

The rigid posture I’d been maintaining loosens as I cross my arms over my chest. “I know everything you said last night came from a place of love. But now I need respect. I want to do this. Please don’t be the reason I don’t.”

Erica reaches down to pick up her carrot and takes a chomp out of it. I don’t say anything about the five-second rule, because for as much money as Erica pays to have this place cleaned, she should be able to eat off the floor. With slightly more composure, she turns to Beck. “If this goes south, it’s on you.”

Beck nods. “Fully aware, Captain.”

“Sisters,” Erica says. “Sisters vying for the suitor’s attention.” Her gaze drifts past us into the backyard. “I guess three is better than two.”

“Cin?” Drew wraps her knuckle against the fitting-room door. “I couldn’t find the next size up.”

I open the curtain for her to join me and Anna, who’s sitting on a giant beanbag. I told Drew that I had tried on their largest size, but she shook her head and held her phone out to me as proof. “See! It says right there. Now carrying extended sizes.”

I explained that stores like these (trendy little places that are suddenly on the body-positive train if they can make a quick buck) usually only offer larger sizes on their website, but she insisted on checking in person.

I plop down on the leather beanbag alongside Anna. “What I really want to know is who actually considers beanbags to be appropriate dressing room seating?”

Anna crosses her arms over her chest. “This is ridiculous. How are you even supposed to know if something fits you if you can only buy it online? Especially if it’s a brand you’ve never shopped!”

I’m too jaded to join in on her outrage, and I’m also having major flashbacks to every trip we made to the mall in high school. Back then, the options were even more limited.

“I can just work with stuff I have at home,” I tell them. “I don’t need a whole new wardrobe just for a TV show.”

“I remember Mom saying there was a wardrobe department for the one-on-one dates and stuff,” says Drew, but by the look on her face, I can tell she’s thinking what I already know. If we’re having this much trouble shopping in this store, the likelihood of the show having my size on hand is basically nonexistent.

“All right, let’s go,” I say.

I wiggle my way out of the beanbag, and then Drew and I pull Anna to her feet.

We file out of the fitting room full of rejected clothing and make our way to the front door.

“Thanks for coming in, girls!” the shop clerk calls after us. “Sorry you didn’t find anything this time.”

We’re nearly out the door, but Anna whirls back around and stomps up to the counter. “Actually, my stepsister found plenty of things she loved, but for whatever reason, your company doesn’t carry her size in store.”

The woman steps back, startled by Anna’s bravado.

“Um, we know that you, like, have no control over that, but maybe you could pass the message up the chain of command,” I offer.

The woman notices me, seemingly for the first time. “Oh, right, of course. I think we might have some of our basics in an extra large if you’d like to try them.”