“That one is nice,” she says, her voice hitching up with consideration. “Classic little black dress. But my gut still says the green one is the way to go.” Her eyes sparkle with a smile I can’t help but match.
“On to the green then.”
Shopping with Cheryl is turning out to be achingly similar to what I always felt shopping with my own mom would be like and as the curtain falls shut behind me, I have to remind myself of the role I’m playing. My being here is in direct response to a need Flourish has, and Cheryl’s invitation, advice, and kindness is the result of her thinking I am her husband’s future business partner’s girlfriend. Letting myself think it could be more is not only embarking into dangerous territory, but is too reminiscent of the kinds of relationships tainted by Axel. The floral shaped branding across my ribs, the same one he inked into my skin nearly a decade ago itches, its evergreen warning clear: I don’t need Cheryl or her warm kindness. Outside of the paycheck I’m collecting, I don’t need any of this.
As soon as I have the green dress pulled up, I know it’s the one I’m going to buy, or the one Flourish is going to buy for me. The silky fabric is buttery smooth and fits along all my curves with enough give to be comfortable. I slide the zipper up the side and bend down to touch my toes just to make sure—God knows a ripped dress is the last thing I need. The one long sleeve isn’t restrictive, and the asymmetrical neckline hints at sexy without being totally inappropriate for a dinner with business associates. I didn’t bring a strapless bra, but the bodice has enough coverage that I’m fairly sure I can go without one all together. All in all it’s nothing short of a miracle.
I step out from behind the curtain and Cheryl claps her hands together. “Yes! That’s the one! And perfect timing too. Our manicures are due to start in about fifteen minutes.”
Like a fool, it isn’t until I’m walking towards the cashier that I check the price. My stomach drops at the number stamped on the cardstock tag. It’s more than I make in a paycheck.
Hoping Noah wasn’t lying when he said spend whatever I need, I pull the card from my purse. The clerk is helping someone else and Cheryl is already waiting outside, leaving me with little other option than waiting with my spiral of worry. Could I come up with a line to appease Cheryl that wouldn’t result in her coming back in to insist I purchase the dress—or worse buy it herself as some kind of gesture? I flip the card over to examine it, hoping I don’t need my employee badge to confirm I’m authorized to use it. Will a corporate card even work for this amount of money at a merchant like this? My stomach rolls again when I see it isn’t Flourish’s name printed on the card. It’s Noah’s.
He gave me his personal card.
I’m not sure if I’m more upset by the possibility that it was an accident, or on purpose. The gut punch sucking the air out of my lungs tells me it wasn’t an accident; Noah meant to buy thisdress. My palms are sweaty as I step up to the counter, and I lay the dress down with care.
Holding my breath, I swipe the card and offer a nervous smile, but the clerk ignores me and instead, stares at her screen with a bored expression. When the machine trills, the air rushes out of my lungs in a silent sigh.Approved.
I sign the receipt with a giant X, my hands still shaking, and the clerk packages the dress in a garment bag with the store’s name and logo printed on the front. I thank her, my voice sounding far away, and exit the store. Cheryl waves at me from down the street where she’s talking on the phone and I close the distance. She ends her call right as I reach her.
“Sounds like the boys are having a blast on the course, though Tom’s definitely had a few already.” She chuckles, but it stops when she sees my face. “Are you alright?”
“Oh,” I shake my head, my stomach still wormy, and force a laugh. “Yes. I think I’m just hungry, maybe.”
“The club has a wonderful lunch menu and we can share a snack plate while we get our nails done.”
I follow her down the sidewalk and to the car, where I lay the dress and its invisible shackles into the back seat. By the time we get to the country club, my shock over the expense has turned to anger at Noah for not telling me he gave me his personal card, andthennot giving me any sort of parameters for using it. Who does that?
I consider texting him, but he’s supposed to be focused on smoothing things over with Tom and I don’t want to distract him. Even if I am ready to kick his ass six ways to Sunday. I didn’t want this favor to begin with.
Cheryl and I settle in at our assigned manicure stations, and she makes small talk with the nail tech. It isn’t until the snack plate she mentioned arrives that I realize I’ve been silent and brooding for the better part of an hour. I reach for a piece ofcheese while the tech shapes the nails on my left hand. Hoping my silence hasn’t been too offensive, I clear my throat.
“Thank you, Cheryl. I don’t know how I could ever repay your kindness today.”
“No need for repayment, dear. Working with Flourish is the next best step for Scented Acres and Tom and I both know it. He was only minorly upset about the tabloid business, but after that initial conversation with Noah, he knew he wanted to pursue this partnership.”
“I’m sure you helped him see that,” I say, ready to put my own issues aside for the rest of the afternoon.
She smiles coyly. “We women drive more than even the men realize and it’s best if we keep it that way. You and Noah and Flourish are exactly what this company needs.”
The manicure is about finished, my black french tips glistening under the last round of blue light, when a wave of rowdy laughter filters in from the hall. I shift in my seat to find none other than Tom and Noah standing in the doorway. Tom’s cheeks are ruddy and he claps Noah on the back in response to a joke I didn’t hear. His face lights when he sees his wife and the two of them stumble into the small salon. I fight the urge to glare at my supposed better half as he approaches.
“There they are,” Tom calls out.
“Here we are,” Cheryl chimes, her voice sweetened with a laugh.
“We have a surprise for you,” Tom says in a loud whisper.
“Oh?”
It is clear Cheryl’s assessment of Tom having a few drinks on the course was accurate because he once more falls into a fit of laughter before standing up straight and spreading his arms out wide.
“We booked couples’ massages!”
My eyebrows shoot up and I finally sweep my surprise to Noah, who stands behind Tom with an uneasy grimace. A fuckingcouple’smassage?
“Tom, darling! What a refreshing treat. We hadn’t decided what to do next,” Cheryl says, practically vibrating out of her chair.
