Debra rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the smile slowly spreading on her lips. She sat back against the couch, realising that it had been a long time since anyone had pushed her towards something purely for herself. Longer still since she’d wanted to be pushed.
Maybe Maeve was right. Maybe shedidneed a suit.
And maybe—though she wouldn’t admit it out loud—she wanted to see what kind of woman walked out of a place like Brown & Co.
Chapter Two
As Debra closedthe door to her flat, the first thing she noticed was the silence. At one time, silence meant peace, but now it just made her think of everything Gerald used to fill with noise. The television blaring from the lounge or the sound of his voice on calls. Thatcontinuousrattle of the kettle when he worked from home. Now it was just her and the sound of London bleeding through the windows.
She dropped her bag on the kitchen island and flicked the lights on. The place was modern, open plan, and too white for her taste. It had come fully furnished—another one of Gerald’s negotiations—but it felt more like a showroom than a real, cosy home. There were days when she loved the space, and others when it made her feel like a guest in her own life.
Her laptop sat where she’d left it that morning, and right now, Debra was almost certain it was encouraging her to open it. She sighed, kicked off her shoes, and poured herself a glass of wine. It wasn’t even six yet, but surely divorce granted some leniency.
By the second sip, she’d typed Brown & Co. London into the search bar and pressed enter. The website was sleek. Black, white, andveryminimalist. Tailoring for women, by women.A single sentence sat beneath the name.Where form meets freedom.
Debra clicked through, scanning images of perfectly cut suits on women of all shapes and ages, looking effortlessly self-assured. Not one of them resembled the tentative creature currently sitting in her flat with half a glass of Sauvignon and a permanent crease between her brows.
Her eyes landed on the section calledThe Full Service.
She hovered for a moment before clicking.
For clients seeking a bespoke experience. A private consultation combining our signature tailoring with a custom lingerie fitting, if desired. Discretion assured. Confidence guaranteed.
“Confidence guaranteed,” she murmured and sipped her wine. “Now that’s a promise.”
Scrolling further down, she found reviews. There weren’t many, which made sense. The clients who could afford this sort of thing likely didn’t chatter about it online. But the ones who did had kindly left Debra the information she was looking for.
I didn’t expect to walk out feeling the way I did. Billie has a way of seeing not only your measurements, but you. The woman underneath. It was worth every penny.
Huh. That was positive.
Hands down the most empowering experience I’ve ever had. Pun intended.
Debra narrowed her eyes.
Billie Brown knows her craft. She’s very hands on. You’ll understand when you go.
Debra frowned, reading that one twice. “Hands on,” she repeated under her breath.
What exactly did that mean?
She scrolled further when her curiosity started to creep in.
It’s not just tailoring. It’s transformation. I’ve never been made to feel more beautiful.
The words made her breath catch. She couldn’t remember the last timeanyonehad made her feel beautiful without expectation attached. Gerald had been generous, yes, but never observant. He’d bought jewellery and handbags and perfumes because that’s what men did, not because he’d noticed what suited her.
Billie Brown,apparently, noticed things.
Debra clicked through to theappointment page before she could back out. There were different options depending on what you required. Standard consultation, lingerie fitting, and the full service. The price next to the last one made her laugh. Maeve was quite clearly out of her mind. She could afford it—the divorce settlement had been more than generous—but spending that kind of money on a suit she’d likely never wear for anyone but herself seemed ridiculous.
Still, her cursor hovered over the form.
She was fifty-two, newly divorced, and drinking cheap Sauvignon while debating whether to book a fitting at a tailor that catered to women half her age and with twice her confidence.
The thought made her laugh, but it didn’t back her away from the laptop.
She scrolled to the review about Billie being ‘hands on’ again.
