‘Can I come in?’ he asks.
In? Into the fitting room?
‘In here?’ I check.
‘Yes,’ he says simply.
‘Erm, okay,’ I reply.
‘Oh my goodness,’ he blurts as he claps eyes on me. He closes the curtain behind him. ‘Lana, you look phenomenal.’
‘Do you think so?’ I ask in a breathy voice, like I can’t quite believe he’s paying little old me such a compliment.
‘I think you do in fact love this one,’ he tells me.
‘What makes you so sure?’ I ask, trying to play it cool.
‘Lana, I saw your feet, under the curtain, and I could just tell,’ he points out. ‘I know why you’re hesitant.’
Does he?
‘You’re worried about upstaging the bride,’ he continues.
Ah, he doesn’t.
‘I just think the other is more… wedding-appropriate,’ I say simply.
‘And I just think that you love this one,’ he tells me. ‘So I’m buying you it – consider it a gift.’
‘Oh, no, you don’t have to do that,’ I insist.
‘It was paid for before you tried it on,’ he says with a smile. ‘I had a feeling.’
Before I can even really think about what I’m doing, I throw myself into Beau’s arms and squeeze him tightly.
‘See, you do really truly love it,’ he points out.
I really truly would never afford it and now, thanks to Beau, I’m actually going to feel like I fit in.
I release him and step back.
‘I’d better take this off, before I destroy it by squeezing you too tightly,’ I joke. ‘But thank you so much.’
‘It’s truly nothing,’ he says. ‘I’ll give you some privacy.’
Right, I need to get this dress off, ASAP, because there is a strong chance that I could destroy it – this is me. I let it carefully fall to my feet just as Beau steps back inside.
‘Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry,’ he says as he averts his gaze. ‘I didn’t think you would take it off quite so quickly.’
I don’t know who is more embarrassed, me or him, but I’m sure that me pretending that I’m not bothered will go a long way to smoothing out the awkwardness.
‘Oh, that’s okay,’ I reassure him. ‘No apologies needed – my bikini covers less.’
I say this like I’m joking but that might actually be true.
‘I just popped back to see if you needed shoes,’ he says, trying to keep his eyes level with mine.
‘Ah, right, no, my shoes were in my bag that made it, so we’re all good,’ I tell him.
