I feel good too. Confident and relaxed. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that having so many orgasms from a handsome vampire who seems utterly devoted to me is agreeing with me.
Still, I need to be careful, I tell myself. I still have to go home.
Only…going back to my awful job and my crappy apartment no longer sounds quite so appealing. Yes, the Shadow Realm is scary, but I feel safe and protected by Lucian. And it’s kind of nice to leave the daily grind behind and live in the lap of luxury instead.
Still, I miss my friends in Book Club, I remind myself. I never even got to say goodbye to them and I know Hanna is expecting me to come home with her. Which I’m going to—honestly, I will.
I just have to find a way to do it.
I pair the pretty red dress with a set of walking boots from the lower shelf—they’re made of soft leather with sturdy soles but they’re somehow still elegant. When I lace them up and glance at my reflection again, I barely recognize myself. I don’t look like the miserable wage-slave I’ve been all my adult life at all. Instead a pretty, confident woman stares back at me. She even has a sparkle in her eye, as though she’s looking forward to the day.
Is this what it feels like to wear clothes designed by someone who actually likes women shaped like me? I wonder. I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that whoever designs clothes for plus-sized stores like Lane Bryant actually hates curvy women. Why else would they make the clothes they do—and then expect us to buy them?
The thought sticks with me as I feed Mr. Mittens and then turn toward the door, ready to go find Hanna. But just then, there’s a knock on the bedroom door.
“Come in,” I call.
The door opens and Hanna steps inside.
For a second, I just stare.
She looks…radiant. Her crumpled scrubs are gone and she’s wearing an emerald dress that hugs her curves without squeezing them, the fabric falling perfectly over her hips. The color makes her auburn curls glow, and her green eyes look brighter than usual. Even her posture seems different—more relaxed, more confident.
“Wow,” I say. “You look amazing.”
She snorts.
“You should talk. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
I grin and do a little twirl so the skirt of my dress flares out.
“You like? The clothes are really nice here.”
“Yes—they gave me several choices and all of them looked good on me,” Hanna gushes. She sighs. “I wish I could take some of them home—they’re nicer than anything I could buy back home.”
“I was just thinking that same thing—shopping as a curvy woman is always such a nightmare,” I say.
“Oh God,” Hanna says. “Don’t remind me.”
“I swear,” I continue, “Every time I go into a plus-sized store, it feels like the designer secretly hates curvy women.”
Hanna laughs.
“Yes! Like, how can we punish them for having hips?”
“Exactly!” I say. “Why do they always think we want crop tops and short sleeves? And ruffles. So many ruffles.”
“The ruffles!” Hanna groans. “Like, this shirt would have been fine if you hadn’t added a flounce the size of a small child to the sleeves.”
“And what is it with weird cutouts?” I add. “Or slogans? I don’t need my shirt to say ‘Curvy and Proud’ in hot pink glitter. I just want it to fit.”
She nods emphatically.
“It’s like whoever designs those clothes thinks we’re either clowns or toddlers.”
I glance down at my dress again, smoothing a hand over the fabric.
“Whoever is designing these clothes… they get it. They actually understand how a curvy body works. Everything I’ve worn since I got here has been flattering without being weird.”
