“Theseareyour clothes, Cat.” He cocks his head, a playful gleam in his eye. “You know what? Idareyou to wear one of your own dresses. I dare you to go with pink hair, in one of your own dresses.”
“No way.”
“Why not? Because you’re worried they’ll think you’re not classy? You’re taking me; your cover’s already blown.”
A laugh slips from my lips. I study him for a moment, trying to discern exactly what that feeling is, flickering in my chest. He’s so persistent, so patient, so…
“Ooh, this one’s really sexy.” He holds up a polka-dot mini dress and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
Annoying. That’s what he is.
I snort, taking the dress and stuffing it back on the rack. “I’mnotwearing that.”
“Okay, okay. You choose one, just for fun. If youweregoing to wear one, which one would it be?”
I heave an exasperated sigh. I know what he’s doing and I don’t want to play along. But when my gaze comes back to him, he’s looking at me beseechingly and I give in. “Fine. Okay.”
I flick through the rack to buy myself some time, but the truth is, I know which dress I’d love to wear. I made it last week, and I’ve kept it down here because I couldn’t quite see myself parting with it. It’s my usual style: a fifties pin-up dress, with a fitted waist, halter straps, and an A-line flare from the waist out to sit just on the knee. The fabric is like nothing else, though—navy blue with the tiniest, most delicate little flowers on the hemline and the sweetheart neckline.
“Yes, that.” Myles is grinning as I pull it off the rack. “That’s really pretty.” He pushes me toward the fitting rooms. “Come on, put it on.”
“No,” I protest, but now that I’ve got it in my hands again I’m itching to try it. I won’t wear it, of course, but I could just try it, couldn’t I?
I close the curtain to the fitting room, wriggling out of my clothes. Then I check the curtain to make sure Myles hasn’t stuck his head in. I can absolutely see him doing something like that. Although maybe not now, after what I told him.
But the curtain is closed. And when I poke my head out, he’s standing with his arms folded, staring off into the distance, his brow creased in thought. I know he’s worrying about me, trying to recall the ways he’s behaved around me, and I feel a little tug in my heart.
I duck back into the fitting room, taking the dress off the hanger. For whatever reason, he really wants me to go out with him in one of my designs with my silly dyed hair. I don’t quite get why, but if it will make him smile, I know I’m going to do it.
I pull the dress on and glance over my reflection. Wow, it really is gorgeous. It fits perfectly through my waist, displaying my modest cleavage nicely. And with my pink hair, the navy and the flowers really pop.
“Right,” I say, placing a hand on the curtain. “Just turn around until I organize some shoes, okay?”
“Okay.”
I peek out and he’s got his back turned, so I tiptoe up the stairs. Hayley’s at the counter, helping a customer. Her face lights up when she sees me in the dress.
“Woah! That looks great.” She hands the parcel to the customer and turns to me. “I hope it’s okay that I let Myles downstairs. He had flowers and was all dressed up, so I figured…” She shrugs, a grin slowly creeping across her lips. “I didn’t know you two were—”
“We’re not,” I say with a laugh. I scan the row of shoes we have left, picking out a pair of strappy wedge heels. They’re a size too big, but they’ll look great with the dress. I slip my feet into them, turning to Hayley. “Look okay?”
“Uh, no. You lookawesome. You should dress like that more often.”
I smile, about to tell her that I did, once, but I stop myself. Another time.
“Wait,” she says, digging into her purse. She pulls out a lipstick and hands it over. “Wear this. It will go with the pink in the flowers on the dress.”
“Thanks.” I take the lipstick, then turn and clomp down the stairs, pausing near the bottom. “Myles? Keep your back turned, okay? I just need a minute.”
“Okay,” he says again. “But with every minute, my expectations are only growing.”
I laugh, grabbing my purse and slipping into the fitting room. I take out my makeup bag, touching up my face, dragging a brush through my pink hair and pinning it back on one side. A coat of Hayley’s dark pink lipstick and I step back to admire my reflection in the dim light.
I smile at the girl in the mirror staring back at me. I haven’t seen her in so long—I thought she was gone, actually—but there she is. She was always there, buried under piles of black clothes. If it wasn’t for Myles, I wouldn’t have put this dress on tonight. But here I am, wearing it.
There’s a sudden burst of gratitude behind my breastbone—for Myles, for all the things he’s brought into my life. He just elbowed his way in and made me better, made me see what wasn’t working, and now I can’t imagine my life without him.
Shit. I can’t imagine my life without him.
