“For believing in love? No, but that isn’t what matters. What matters is finding a man who understands and respects your views, whatever they are.” And she was fairly sure Richard wasn’t that person. Emily found his charm superficial and manipulative rather than genuine. She would never have put him with someone as creative and sensitive as Sky. It was like sending an armored tank to catch a butterfly. “Relationships are hard. Finding someone who wants the same things as you is rare. Finding someone who understands you, even rarer.”

“Are you about to tell me you had that with Neil? Because I won’t believe you.”

What had she had with Neil? She wasn’t sure she could put a name to it. “It was an easy relationship.”

“Is easy another word for boring?”

“Maybe. It was safe. I was with him for three years and not once did I ever feel confused about my feelings.” She’d known Ryan two days, and her feelings had been all over the place.

“It was your lucky day when he dumped you. The only thing I don’t understand is why you didn’t dump him first. You deserve so much better. All you need to do now is throw out everything black in your wardrobe.”

“I like black.”

“It makes you fade into the background.”

“That’s exactly where I want my body to be. In the background. You have no idea how many men have had conversations with my chest.”

“And I bet you managed to get them to look into your eyes two seconds after you opened your mouth. You’re bright and witty, Emily. Your body is your body. It’s the only one you have, and you shouldn’t feel you need to hide it.”

“You don’t understand. Even Neil agreed that my breasts, if not exactly my worst feature, were unfortunate.”

“He said that? I’m glad you told me because now if I ever get the chance to kill him, I’m going to make sure it’s a slow death. Why do you think he said that, Em? Because underneath the surface he was a jealous creep, and he didn’t want other men looking at you.”

Emily tried to picture Neil jealous. “I want people to take me seriously.”

“I understand. Look at this blond hair—” Skylar lifted a handful of pale silk “—do you think people don’t prejudge me? Of course they do, but I don’t care. I love my hair, and if they want to take it as a sign that my brain is minuscule, then it will give me all the more pleasure to prove them wrong. This isn’t about the way you relate to men. It’s to do with your mother.”

Emily examined her nails. “Maybe.”