The first boutique was decidedly for people in a different stage of life, and part of Daisy longed to wear the trendy styles, even though they were ephemeral and for bodies that hadn’t birthed humans.
“I just don’t understand who would want to wear this.” Nora pulled out a dress that had multiple holes in the bodice area. “If I put this on, it would look like a Play-Doh fun factory.”
It was a descriptive image. And one Daisy felt strongly applied to her too.
“My boobs would hang out of this.” Soraya stuck her finger through a cutout on a bright-orange dress that was likely to hit right at the rib cage.
Weirdly, Daisy felt like she might actually consider wearing it. To bed, with Zach. He made her feel hot in a way that she just hadn’t. Maybe ever. He was a magician like that, but it wasn’t ladylike to brag about wonderful men and multiple orgasms when your friends were still in the trenches.
Not that she wasn’t in a trench, still. There were all kinds of nonsense yet to deal with. There was still the fact that Amberly and Jonathan were getting married, which felt like it was stuck right underneath her ribs, and every time she took a breath, she could feel it.
“Okay,” Daisy said. “Something a little bit more demure.”
“I am demure,” Soraya said. “Just demure and hoping to also seem sexy.”
She looked deeply embarrassed to have even said the word.
“Okay. You’ve got to own your sexuality.” Nora tapped Soraya on the forehead.
“I don’t knowhowto own my sexuality. I was told my sexuality belonged to David.”
“No,” Nora said. “Your sexuality does not belong to that man. It belongs to you. Your vagina, your rules.”
“Thank you. I don’t know that I need to think of my vagina in those terms.” The work Soraya was putting in to not flinching was admirable.
“Look at you, sayingvaginaon a city street.” Nora clasped her hands in front of her chest like she was a proud mother.
“Strange times,” Soraya said dryly.
They walked into the next boutique, which boasted some lovely floral dresses in a 1950s style, and Nora shooed Soraya away from them. “That is too much like things you already have.”
“What about this?” Soraya asked, pulling out a powder-blue bodycon dress.
“That is acceptable.”
Daisy pulled a lavender dress off the rack and held it up, examining the silhouette. Then she lowered the hanger just slightly and gasped. Because there she was. Amberly herself, swanning into the boutique with that big engagement ring on her finger.
She almost swallowed her tongue.
“What?” Soraya asked.
“Is that ...?” Nora followed Daisy’s gaze. “It is. I’m going to go—”
“No,” Daisy said. “Nobody do anything. It’s not her fault anyway. She’s twenty-five. Her prefrontal cortex isn’t even fully developed, and my husband is ...”
“That is very girl’s girl of you,” Nora said. “And I agree, blame must be allocated to the appropriate parties. But she’s notblameless.”
“We’re not going to get in a fistfight with my husband’s fiancée in a boutique.”
“We can just go,” Soraya whispered.
“Absolutely not,” Daisy snapped. “I am not going to sacrifice your amazing dress on the altar of Jonathan’s nonsense. You go try your dress on.”
“Daisy!”
Daisy looked over, and to her horror, Amberly was charging toward them with a smile on her face. “Are you trying that dress on?”
Amberly had said Daisy’s name and still, Daisy couldn’t internalize that Amberly was actually talking to her. Directly.
