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“Exactly. Comforting and offensive in equal measure.” She takes a long drink, squares her shoulders, and turns toward the boutique. “Anyway, I need a dress.”
I look through the window at a concerning quantity of sequined fabric.
“A dress for what?”
“My rebound year.”
“You ended a two-year relationship like fourteen hours ago.”
“Fifteen,” she corrects. “And I’m not saying I’m going to fall in love tonight. I simply want to be appropriately dressed in case an opportunity presents itself. Bea, I am heartbroken, not dead. Plus, shopping is good for the soul.”
Well. Can’t argue with that.
The bell chimes as I follow her inside. The shop smells like vanilla. Gianna walks directly to a rack of very tiny red dresses.
“Subtle,” I say.
“I’ve been subtle for two years.”
She pulls out a dress that consists of six inches of red fabric.
I raise my eyebrows. “I don’t think so.”
“I haven’t even tried it on.”
“I don’t think there is much to try on.”
She adds it to her arm anyway.
Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting outside the changing room beneath soft lighting, four rejected dresses across my lap.
The curtain slides back. Gianna steps out in a fitted black dress with thin straps and turns toward the mirror.
“Oh,” I say.
“Good oh or worried oh?”
“Really, really good. You look hot, girl! Hey, you’ll be breaking hearts in no time.”
A delighted smile breaks across her face.
Then her mouth wobbles. Only slightly, but I see it.
“Hey.”
“I’m okay.” She studies herself in the mirror. “I don’t want him back. I just hate knowing that part of my life is finished. I keep reaching for my phone to tell him things, and then I remember I’m not supposed to do that anymore.”
“That makes sense. Ending the right relationship can still feel awful.”
Her gaze meets mine in the mirror.
“You’re being very wise today.”
“I’m wise most days.”
Her eyes narrow behind the sunglasses, which she has inexplicably continued wearing indoors. I can’t tell if it’s chic or to hide her red eyes. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” I answer quickly.
