It isn’t that the dress fits me perfectly. Because it does. I’m small, sure. Short like Mama. But curvy from my daddy’s side.
It isn’t that at all.
What strikes me when I look in the mirror is that I could live this life.
And the thought immediately floods me with guilt.
My daddy didn’t work his ass off as a lawyer for me to just hand myself over to a serial killer. And yet? Isn’t this what I’ve worked my ass off for?
This life.
I wanted all my life to walk in his footsteps. To evolve into a woman he’d feel pride in. And yet all I feel when I look in that mirror is disappointment mixed in with everything I’ve always wanted.
I get to mingle with politicians tonight. With the lawyers who back them. With women who got to the top on their intellect and sharp wit.
Not because I earned it.
Because I got an invite from the newest playboy politician.
My phone buzzes from the dresser.
I don’t look at it. Don’t want to break whatever spell is keeping me upright in this mirror.
Alex glances at the screen as she passes. Her jaw tightens.
“Marcus?” I ask.
“Who else.” She doesn’t read it to me. Just sets the phone face-down and goes back to gathering supplies.
Alex already did my makeup. A perfect smoky eye. One that highlights my dark eyes and sharp cheekbones. And she did my hair. Half up with a perfect swoop. Curled just so.
And not even the way my skin looks against the silky material can make me feel better about that text.
“Found the wax.” Alex comes out of the bathroom with the small tin. I might have Mama’s hair but sometimes I get those little curls that won’t behave.
I swallow my emotions. Breathe slowly. Turn to face her. “Well?”
“Stunning.” She rubs the wax between her palms before smoothing down my hair. Again. She already did it once. She’s just... taking care of me.
My phone buzzes again.
Alex’s hands pause in my hair. We both look at the dresser.
“Leave it,” she says.
I leave it.
But I can feel it there. Buzzing. Waiting. Him, reaching through the screen, already impatient.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, grabbing a shawl and placing it over my shoulders.
“Can we walk and talk?”
Alex hums at me. Knows my deflection for what it is.
Together we lock up the apartment and head downstairs. Me in my dress. Alex in sweats and a hoodie because she’s driving me in Nikko’s sedan and then parking in an alley.
To wait.
