Prologue
Hayden
Standing in the middle of the expensive, luxurious boutique in downtown Richmond, surrounded by lace and silk and satin in every color, I felt completely and utterly ridiculous. I couldn’t believe it had come to this, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and I was nothing if not painfully desperate.
“Hi. Can I help you?”
I looked up from the garment rack, the hangers holding tiny scraps of material that would barely cover my hand let alone other parts of my body. The sales clerk was a tall, svelte, modelesque blonde dressed in all black—from her sky-high heels and tight pencil skirt to her sheer silk blouse and the lacy bra beneath.
I’d never felt so frumpy in my life. I was suddenly blindingly aware that my body wasn’t what it used to be back before pregnancy and childbirth changed it. I hadn’t been one of those women who barely gained weight and only looked pregnant when they turned to the side. Everything from my toes to my nostrils had swelled. I’d gained more than fifty pounds while I was pregnant, and I had the stretchmarks on my stomach and breasts—even my hips—to prove it.
I lost a lot of the baby weight, but not all, and I was no longer the slim, straight size four I’d once been. My body had permanently changed. I now had an hourglass figure. My hips were wider, my butt and chest bigger. There was no longer a gap between my thighs, and the skin around my middle was looser than it had once been.
I hadn’t thought I looked bad at all, just . . . more womanly. I thought Alex would like the changes to my body, especially considering those changes came from bringing our daughter into the world. But as time passed, his interest in me seemed to be dwindling.
I could feel the distance growing between us with every passing day, and I knew I was partly to blame for it. Ivy was four now, but I’d wanted her for so long that, once she arrived, she’d become all I could see.
I’d dreamed my whole life of being a mother, and after years of trying and failing on our own and with medical assistance, one heartbreaking miscarriage after another, we’d finally gotten our miracle baby. Nothing mattered to me but her wellbeing, and as the years passed, I started to neglect other aspects of my life. Especially my husband.
But that was all going to change.
When I woke up this morning, I’d rolled over to find Alex’s side of the bed already empty and the sheets cold. That was becoming our norm. He got up early, did his thing, and left for work without so much as a note or text.
Used to be, when things were good between us, he couldn’t bring himself to leave for the day without waking me up for a goodbye kiss. Nine times out of ten, that led to hard, fast, dirty sex that left us both breathless and smiling before he inevitably forced himself to break away from me so he could head to work.
I couldn’t remember the last time we’d had a day start off like that, and this morning I woke up missing it terribly. I also woke up with a fire in my belly, determined to get us back to where we used to be.
Hence the babysitter for my daughter and the high-end lingerie store for me.
I’d gotten up and actually took the time to put some care into my appearance. None of my clothes from before Ivy really fit anymore, and Alex was always making off-handed comments about me waiting until I was back to my pre-baby weight before buying anything new, so I had extremely limited wardrobe choices, but did my best. And I thought I’d made it work . . . until Runway Barbie showed up.
Now I was uncomfortably aware that my jeans looked—and felt—glued to my skin, and that I was currently holding them closed with a ponytail holder since I could no longer get the button anywhere near the stupid buttonhole.
“Oh, uh . . . I’m looking for something,” I started lamely. “A surprise for my husband.”
The woman’s smile was warm and inviting. “Ah, very nice. I think I can help you find just the thing.” She bounced from rack to rack, flipping through and pulling off hangers faster than I could process what was happening, all without once asking for my size.
Before I knew what was happening, I was herded toward the fitting rooms at the back of the shop. “I’ve grabbed some things I think would really do the trick and look fantastic on you,” she said breezily as she hung my—her—selections along one of the walls. “Let me know if you need a different size in anything.”
The deep red velvet dressing room curtain was slapped shut before I could manage to form a single word.
“What just happened?” I whispered to myself, slowly turning to take in the confines of the small room.
I slowly dragged the hangers back and forth, pleasantly surprised that the sales clerk had picked several pieces that were really pretty.
Stripping out of my ill-fitting clothes, I pulled one of the nighties off its hanger and tried it on. The soft silk was cool against my skin and slipped into place perfectly, proving that the clerk really knew her stuff.
I turned to look at myself in the long, gilded mirror. The nightie was held in place by two thin spaghetti straps. The neckline plunged into a deep V that showed a good amount of cleavage, but the A-line actually did an incredible job of keeping my breasts in place, making them look nice and perky. The hemline didn’t even reach mid-thigh, revealing a lot of leg, and when I turned around to check out the back, sure enough, there was more than a hint of cheek peeking out.
The light, dusky blue of the silk actually looked really nice against my pale complexion, and the peach-colored lace around the hem and bustline complemented my light red hair.
All in all, I thought I looked pretty damn good, but as I stood staring at my reflection, the determination from earlier started to flicker. I felt myself losing steam. A pep-talk was seriously needed, so I pulled my phone from my purse and hit the number on speed dial as I paced my small confines.
The phone rang and rang before voicemail finally kicked in. “Hey, honey,” I spoke. “So, I know this is the third message I’ve left you today, but I could really use my BFF right now. Or, you know . . . whenever you’re available.” I blew out a sigh and looked back at myself in the mirror. “I’m currently standing in the dressing room of a lingerie store, wearing nothing but a skimpy nightie. I need you to tell me if I’m making a mistake, babe. Call me back.”
My shoulders sank as I disconnected and tossed the phone back into my purse. “Well,” I said to my reflection, “looks like you’re in this on your own. Might as well suck it up.”
I spent the next few minutes trying on the rest of the sales clerk’s selections. By the time I walked out of the store half an hour later, I had four new nighties, three bra and panty sets that were a whole hell of a lot better than the stuff I’d been wearing, a new robe, and a teddy I was sure I’d never have the guts to wear but had talked myself into getting anyway. Just in case.
It wasn’t often I had some free time to myself. I decided to take advantage of the beautiful day and, having a babysitter for another two hours, headed to a little bistro a couple blocks down for lunch.
As I made the short walk at a leisurely pace, I thought over my plan again. Alex’s hours had been erratic over the past few months, making it so he usually didn’t get home until well after the sun had gone down and I’d already put Ivy to bed. Usually I hated his late hours and going to bed alone, but I intended to make it work for me tonight.