“That’s too dowdy. She should wear the red one.”
“That is one-hundred and eighty degrees from dowdy. She should not wear it on a first date.”
“She should absolutely wear it for a first date. It screams available.”
“It screams fuck me.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh yeah. I see your point. You should wear the red one, Abby,” Naomi said.
Abby stood in the door of her ensuite bathroom and shook her head at her friends arguing like the fairies from Sleeping Beauty. “No.”
“Oh, come on,” Lindsey said.
“A, the red dress is too much for Lavender and Sage. B, the only time I wore it, I was so uncomfortable the entire night I couldn’t enjoy myself.”
Naomi looked at the dress in question, hanging on the back of Abby’s bedroom door. “Why do you still have it if you’re not going to wear it?”
“It’s an expensive freaking dress. I don’t want to throw it in the donation bin,” Abby said.
“You should take it to Second Chances. They do consignments,” Lindsey said.
Abby went back to the mirror to finish her makeup. “I keep meaning to.” If she had a dollar for all the things she kept meaning to do, she could retire.
“What are you wearing?” Lindsey asked.
“Classic little black dress.” She swiped on a coat of mascara and stepped back for a critical review. The shades of shimmery gray made her light brown eyes pop. She always felt they were her best feature and kept her from being too Plain Jane.
Average height. Average boob to hip ratio. Average brown hair. But depending on how she wore her makeup, her eyes could be the color of caramel or as dark as whiskey.
“You’re not wearing the dress you wore for last year’s showcase, are you?” Lindsey asked.
Abby left her bathroom and made a sharp turn into her small walk-in closet. She shut the door and pulled the garment bag from the far corner. Reverently pulling the dress from the bag, she prayed it still fit, because despite Naomi and Lindsey’s argument about what she should wear, the blue dress was too dowdy.
For one moment, the zipper stuck but then kept going as far as she could get it. She let out a sigh of relief. It was a little tighter in the bust than she remembered, though.
She slipped into her strappy heels and opened the door for the big reveal. “I need one of you to finish zipping me up.”
“Sure.” Naomi hopped off the bed while Abby turned her back. “This is Dior.”
“Yes,” Abby said over her shoulder.
“This is vintage Dior. Did your ex get this for you too?”
“God, no. It was my grandmother’s. Mom is too tall for it, so she gave it to me when Gran passed.”
She turned to face her friends. “So? Too much? Too little?”
“Just right,” Naomi said. “You look like Audrey Hepburn.”
“You are so getting laid tonight,” Lindsey said.
“Not the point of this date.” Abby grabbed the clutch from the end of the bed and checked the time. Tinker should be there soon.
“Then what is the point?” Naomi asked.
“To rip off the Band-Aid. To get out there and start living life again.”
