I could hear the disappointment in her voice already.
"I mean the zipper won't close. It's too small."
She sighed deeply as if I was annoying her. "Did you try sucking in?"
I held the phone away from my ear and stared at it. Are you kidding me right now?
"Yes, Mom. I tried. It's just not the right size."
There was another long pause before she finally said, "Well, I suppose we'll have to go shopping then. I'm free this afternoon. I'll pick you up at one."
"Mom, I'm going into work today."
"On your day off? Amara, honey, you're never going to find an Alpha living in that library. Call off, and I'll be there shortly."
My eyes grew wide. "But, mom."
"But mom nothing, I'll see you at one o'clock."
I guessed my job didn't matter.
"Fine," I said, too tired to argue. "One o'clock."
She hung up without saying goodbye and I stood there, still half-zipped into a dress that was never going to fit. I shot a text off to Mrs. Luna letting her know I wouldn't be coming in today. She promptly responded asking if I was ill and then that started a whole conversation.
My mother arrived at exactly one o'clock in her silver Mercedes, looking like she'd stepped out of a magazine. Per usual her hair had been styled to perfection and her eyeliner wasso sharp it could cut an ice cube. The cream colored pantsuit that she wore was giving Givenchy. I knew my designers, I just didn't live above my means.
I climbed into the passenger seat wearing my usual cardigan and jeans.
She looked me over and sighed.
"We really need to update your wardrobe," she said.
"Hello to you too, Mom," I pulled my seat belt around me.
She pulled away from the curb, her manicured nails tapping against the steering wheel. "I'm just saying, sweetheart. You'd feel so much better about yourself if you put a little more effort into your appearance."
I bit my tongue.
Hard.
"So where are we going?" I asked instead.
"Marchand's. They have the best selection of formal wear in Fernwood. But first, I need to stop at the farmers market. I promised your aunt I'd pick up some of those heirloom tomatoes she likes."
I didn't bother to protest. It would be like a tree branch meeting fire and I was the tree branch.
The farmers market was quieter than it would be in warmer months, but the vendors were still out in full force, bundled up in coats and scarves behind their colorful stalls. Someone had set out buckets of early tulips near the entrance, bright pink and white against the gray February morning. The air smelled like fresh bread and roasted nuts and something warm and spiced from a vendor selling hot cider.
My mother headed straight for the produce section, leaving me to trail behind like a lost teenager.
I was pausing near a display of potted snowdrops, thinking about how much I loved seeing the first signs of spring pushing through, when I heard a familiar voice.
"Amara?"
I turned and my heart did that stupid flutter it liked to do.
Kael.
