He smiled. “Well, I’m a board-certified plastic surgeon. Dartmouth, Johns Hopkins, NYU residency. I’ve been practicing for twenty-two years.”

Just not on yourself, apparently. She clenched her fists. “Okay. Let’s do this. I’ll be able to go home looking normal, right?”

“Of course.”

“Not a lot of Botox. I don’t want to look like those freaky Real Housewives.”

“Two of them are my patients,” he said. “But I hear you. Just a sprinkling. You’ll look like you came back from a wonderfully restful vacation.”

— —

A wonderfully restful vacation where she fell asleep in the sun for eight hours, apparently.

“Am I bweeding?” she said, looking closer.

Her lips were swollen, which would subside, Dr. Brian said. He’d better not be lying. And for God’s sake, she could hardly see through the forest on her upper lids.

“There are a few little dots, yes, but that’s normal.” He blotted her forehead, and the gauze showed blood.

“I—I can’t go home wike this.” Her glowing white teeth flashed against her red, red skin and swollen lips.

“It will just take a day or two.”

“You said an hour!” She was blinking, the lash extensions so long they hit her cheeks (and possibly her eyebrows, but she couldn’t feel those). She looked like Bambi trying to flirt. An evil, demonic Bambi. She tried to draw her eyebrows together, but they were no longer functioning eyebrows. She could lift them maybe a millimeter.

The redness. Jesus. Her face was the color of boiled lobster.

And those eyelashes. That was a mistake. “I thought it would wook more natural.”

Dr. Brian smiled. “You look beautiful. The redness and swelling will go down, and the lashes will come off in a couple of weeks, so you may want to schedule a fill appointment now.”

She cringed. “It wooks wike I have a small animal sitting on my eyewids.”

A jolly chuckle. “No! You look amazing. Just make sure to brush them out when they get wet, or they clump together.”

Great. Add that to her list of things to do every morning. “Can you twim them, at weast?” She sounded like the priest in The Princess Bride.

“Why don’t you just sit with them a little while and get used to them. I’m telling you, you look wonderful. I can tell. This is my job. When that redness fades, you’ll be very happy, I’m confident. You wanted to look younger, and you will.”

She studied her reflection in the mirror. Maybe he was right. The redness was distracting, and the eyelashes were . . . long. And fanned out, like a peacock tail. Her lips were sore from the injections, and her gums throbbed from that thing they’d stuck in her mouth while whitening her teeth.

She wouldn’t want her girls to do this. Ever.

I’m sorry I put you through this, Face, she thought.