Then, before things could get out of hand,Iturned quickly away.
“I…Ishould open these packages,”Isaid, trying to find something—anything—else to do.Igestured vaguely at the boxesI’dgotten at the post office.
“Oh,Iguess you should.”Henodded.
“I mean—Ihave to be sure they gave me the right sizes.”
I quickly got a knife out of the drawer and began slicing into the boxes.It’sa wonderIdidn’t cut myself—my hands were shaking.Luckily,Iwas able to get everything open without also opening a vein.
I grabbed the fabric in the first box without paying attention to what it was.Itturned out to be a light blue sundress with a frilly hem.
“Oh—that’s pretty,”Korremarked.
“Do you really think so?”Iheld the dress up to myself, and looked down to see how the fabric flowed.
“Yes—you should try it on,”Korsaid.“Thencome back and show me.”
“You…want to see whatIbought?Imean, really?”
“Sure, why not?”Heshrugged, his broad, bare shoulders rolling.“Look,I’llsit right here at the kitchen island, and you give me a fashion show.”
I was surprised to say the least—Carterhad never shown any interest in whatIwas wearing except to criticize if he thought a particular item of clothing was too revealing or unbecoming.Iwas never allowed to wear anything he considered “slutty” which was the reason my entire wardrobe consisted of dresses a chaste, elderly librarian might wear.
That was the real reasonIhad ordered a lot of new clothes a few days afterCarterhad died.Nowthat he was gone,Icould dress howIwanted—thoughIhad thoughtI’dbe wearing the new dresses alone in the big house with no one but me to see them.
But nowKorwas expressing an interest in whatIhad bought—whatIwanted to wear.Andhe didn’t seem inclined to criticize my taste, likeCarterhad.
“All right,”Isaid.“Letme go get changed.”
I went to my bathroom and pulled off the long-sleeved black dress—which was hot and stuffy and generally miserable to wear—and put on the light, flirty sundress instead.
The dress fell almost to my knees and left my lower legs bare.Itclung smoothly to my curves and brought out the color of my eyes.Theonly problem was it didn’t have regular straps.Instead, it had two long strips of fabric that tied at the back of the neck, which meant my bra straps stuck out like a sore thumb.
After a moment of consideration,Itook off the bra and left it by the sink.ThenItied the straps in a bow at the back of my neck and had a look in the bathroom mirror.
I have to admit,Ihad a mixed reaction.Iliked whatIsaw, butIfelt guilty, too.
The woman in the mirror didn’t look over forty.Theflirty little dress made her look younger—and happier too,Ithought.Butthe fabric clung to her breasts—mybreasts—and outlined the nipples which were stiff and poking against the thin, silky material.
ShouldIreally go out and letKorsee me like this,Iwondered?Buthe’d seen me in my nightgown last night, so wearing a sundress around him shouldn’t really be a problem, right?
Part of me knewIwas rationalizing.Butanother part—a part that had been starved for affection and admiration for twenty years—didn’t care.Iliked the wayIlooked, even thoughCarterwould have shouted and locked me in my room for daring to wear such “indecent, revealing clothing.”Iliked feeling pretty and young.
“Carter’s not here anymore—Ican do whatIwant,”Iwhispered to the girl in the mirror.ThenItossed my head, making my long hair swirl around my back—Iloved how sensuous it felt when the silky strands tickled my bare skin.
Taking a deep breath,Ileft the bathroom and headed back to the kitchen.
EIGHTEEN
VIVIENNE
Carter was still sitting there, waiting for me, whenIgot back.
“Ta-da!”Isaid, and did a little twirl, right there in the doorway.
His eyes widened, then went half-lidded.
“Fuck,Vivienne,” he breathed.“Youlook fuckingamazing.”
