If the Shoe Fits (Meant To Be #1) by Julie Murphy

Beck plays at flipping her nonexistent hair. “Protégée!” Then her eyes widen as she notices me. “Wait. This is Cindy? Simon’s Cindy? You’re—you’re a woman!” She turns to Erica. “She’s a woman!”

Erica smiles, guiding Beck to an empty chair. “Our little Cindy is all grown-up.”

Without a moment of hesitation, Beck reaches across the table to help herself to sushi, and with her mouth full, she says, “Big problem. Who blurbs dropped out!”

“Who?” asks Erica.

“Who!” says Beck, pointing at her mouth. “Who!” Finally, she waves two fingers in the air, and swallows the remains of her sushi with a gulp of water. “Two! Two girls!”

Erica groans. “There’s always one or two. Who do we have in the wings?”

I watch with fascination as their conversation ping-pongs back and forth.

Beck takes another bite of tuna, and her eyes practically cross with satisfaction. “You know, I can’t remember the last time I ate a meal at a table.” She finishes off her bite and points her chopsticks at the triplets. “You enjoy this while it lasts, because one day you’re thirty-two years old and eating a romantic dinner by yourself over your trash can so that it will catch the crumbs and save you the three minutes it would take to clean up after your damn self.”

The triplets blink, staring blankly back at this strange creature who has very suddenly infiltrated their home.

I let out a low whistle. “That went bleak fast.”

Beck grins. “And that’s why reality television is never real.” She holds up a finger to count. “We lost the virgin from Kentucky. Something about her grandma being upset or—I don’t know. And then turns out the swimsuit model from Miami isn’t bisexual. She’s monosexual…for women.”

“Oh,” says Erica with a laugh in her voice. “Well, I guess that one worked out for the best. Though that would have made for some delicious television.”

“I want to eat your brain,” Beck says with complete sincerity.

“Mommy!” Jack screams, instant tears running down his cheeks as he darts around the table to Erica. “Don’t let Beck eat your brain!”

Mary crosses her arms over her chest and says, “Jack, you baby, she’s not going to actually eat Mommy’s brain.”

“You’re right.” Beck grins. “Because I only eat little children’s BRAAAAAAAAAINS!” She gives her best zombie growl, and Mary and Gus both squeal with delight while Jack curls into Erica’s lap.

Erica sighs. “We don’t really have the time to vet any new contestants. Not fully, but…” She taps her index finger against her closed lips as she loses herself deep in thought.

All of us—even the twins—are completely silent so as to not interrupt any possible genius idea she might be sprouting.

“I’ve got it,” she finally says. “Drew and Anna.”

“What?” they both say in unison.

Beck gasps. “Twins.”

“We’re not twins,” they both say.

“According to who?” asks Beck. “This is perfect. Twins? Twins! Our viewership will lose their minds!”

Erica turns to Anna and Drew, and I can’t help but notice how absolutely perfect they are, even with their messy ponytails and workout clothes. “What do you think, girls? Are you up for it? You’ve both been begging me for years. Besides, I think you’d both have fun…and now that you’re a little older, I think you’ve got a better grasp on how to handle something like this.”

I think what she means is that sending her eighteen-year-old daughters on the show just a month after high school graduation would have been a disaster, but now that they’re older and have had some real-life heartbreaks at the ripe old age of twenty-three, they might not be so surprised to learn that the suitor didn’t fall for them at first sight.

“Wait,” says Anna, trying her best to temper her excitement. “Is this for real–for real?”

Drew gasps. “Who’s the suitor?”

Erica clicks her tongue. “I can’t even divulge that information to my daughters. But listen, if you do this, we need to keep our family connection on the down low.”

“And hell!” says Beck. “We might as well throw in Cindy while we’re at it!”

Anna and Drew both go wide-eyed and shriek. “Yes! The trio back together!”

They both wiggle and dance in their seats, and I can’t help but smile at the thought of being included with them.

“Oh, we’re only down two girls. Let’s not mess with our numbers,” Erica says in a no-nonsense tone that not even Beck crosses.

I’m so used to recusing myself. To pulling back before I can be pushed out, that my response comes naturally. “Yeah,” I say. “I don’t think I’m the right fit for something like that.”

The idea of me joining the cast of contestants is quickly forgotten as my stepsisters obsess over every detail, like what they’ll pack and who will dog-sit their Morkie, Gigi. While they talk logistics with Erica and Beck, I sneak off with the triplets and help them get ready for bed, including a bedtime story about how to save your mom from getting her brains eaten by her junior producer.