??Top Comments:
@MrsLaceyDramaQueen:“ELEGANT BUT EASY TO TAKE OFF?! Someone bring the smelling salts. Or a priest!”
@JoyceOfficial:“Everybody calm DOWN. Did you see Sebastian’s arms while he was touching that fabric? We need to eat at The Snowed Inn way more often. ??”
@TheRealKathy:“Grant looked like he wanted to murder the bra. I’m in love.”
@FrancisCam:“Writing this article one-handed because I’m using the other one to fan myself. ????”
??Facebook – Elm Hollow Chit-Chat & Chardonnay
Post:
?? Blurry photo of the four men at the register.
??
“Poll of the Day:
Who would you most like to find in your fitting room, gift in hand?
A) Cam (blinding smile)
B) Grant (judgy silence)
C) Levi (flirty troublemaker)
D) Sebastian (guaranteed chaos)
E) Cohen (‘easy to take off’ ??)
Answer honestly!”
Reactions: ??????100%
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Lace Bodysuit???
Sloane
There’s something sacred about the early-morning silence in my kitchen.
It smells like freshly ground coffee, lemony cleaning spray, and the kind of steady, comforting routine I’ve always associated with my parents.
Or… that’s how it used to feel.
This morning, something is off.
I watch my mom from across the marble island. She’s wearing her usual champagne-colored silk robe, but instead of her double espresso, she’s holding a steaming mug of herbal tea. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, her expression soft—almost dreamy—as she watches the swirl of steam rise from her cup.
There’s sweetness in her face that doesn’t match the tension humming in the air these past few weeks.
And there’s tiredness. So much tiredness.
“Mom?” I ask, setting my own mug down.
She lifts her head as if I’ve snapped her out of a trance. She smiles—warm, but edged with something careful and unfamiliar.
