“Cut it out, or I’ll make it five. Now, what’s on the agenda tonight?”
I lifted a beautiful green, floor-length dress from its hanger and ran my hand over the A-line design. Delicate sequins draped across the v-cut neckline and the waist, coming to a stop at the dramatic slit that began mid-thigh.
“Oh, yes, definitely that one,” Marietta said, grabbing it from my hands and shooing me into a fitting room. I sighed, removing my clothes, and slipping my fingers over the fabric, refusing to acknowledge the price tag.
“There’s a fundraiser tonight for the lacrosse team at the country club, so cocktail casual.”
“Okay. This could work,” she said before draping an obscene amount of tulle over the door. Shimmering silver stars were woven into the sheer purple dress, and I hummed, running my fingers over the delicate material.
Holding the floor-length, green satin number to my chest, I pulled the high-neck, open-back purple dress over the door.
“Thanks. Next week is a black-tie event for the drama club, followed by a silent auction and dinner. I can’t remember what that one is for, honestly. By the end of the week, everything blends together, and my smile is frozen to my face.”
Marietta chuckled as I struggled to zip up the formal dress, finally opening the door and turning around so she could help. A low whistle escaped her lips as I stepped onto a low platform in front of three mirrors, highlighting every angle.
“Wow. That green with your hair.”
I followed her gaze, staring at my reflection. The slit made my legs look longer, and the pattern of the sequins slimmed my waist. This was the kind of dress I was meant to wear with someone whose eyes would go wide and whose breath would hitch as I entered the room. Someone who would walk up behind me while I applied a layer of lip-gloss, pressing a kiss to my bareshoulder and whispering how beautiful I looked before nibbling on the shell of my ear.
This wasn’t a dress. It was an experience.
An experience I didn’t have to share with anyone.
“Emma?”
I lifted my hand from my stomach, not realizing my fingers were pressed to the silky fabric while my mind ran in circles around nothing.
“What’s going on?” Marietta asked as the salesperson waltzed back with two glasses of champagne. She opened her mouth, but the harsh look of my best friend held her in place before passing the glasses over and turning back toward the stockroom.
“I—This dress—”
Words formed, then disappeared when my mouth opened, causing Marietta to put the glasses on the nearest table and envelop me in her arms. Her five-foot-eight frame towered over my shorter one, and I took comfort in how my head rested on her shoulder as she stroked my back.
“Shh, love. Tell me why there are tears before this lovely dress is stained.”
“There’s no reason to buy this dress when no one but coworkers and potential investors will see me in it.” When those words left my lips, a calm dread invaded my chest. A consuming feeling ofemptinessfilled the cracks and gaps as if they were waiting for someone who hadn’t bothered to show up.
Perhaps it was notsomeone—butsomething.
Some innateothernessyou could only get from finding the person you were meant to be with.
No. No. No.
I chanted the words like a pathetic mantra before pulling away from Marietta. She let me go but grasped my arms then rested her hands on my shoulders.
“I think your string of not-great dates—”
“Pathetically abysmal.”
“Fine. Pathetically abysmal dates have crushed your self-esteem, and that, along with the headmaster’s archaic antics—”
“Utter nonsense.”
“Stop interrupting me,” she said, squeezing my shoulders then letting go and crossing her arms. “Now. I honestly think the best thing for you to do is take a break from the apps. This isn’t healthy, and I refuse to continue to be a sounding board for all the things those assholes found wrong with you.”
“But,” I whispered, needing her to know how important this job was for me. How important it was to prove to myself—and my father—that I could achieve this regardless of his involvement.
“But nothing,” she answered, shaking her head and pushing me around so I was staring at my reflection again. “No more new dates. Keep the ones you have, and if Mr. Right is still being an elusive dickface, ask Rose’s brother, Miller, or someone else you already know to be your stand-in man candy and be done with it.”
