It wasn’t until the fourth dress that I thought I’d found the one.
The emerald green almost resembled the shade of sneakers he wore the day we met, and it might have been a silly thing to remember if he hadn’t later revealed that it was also his favorite color. The beaded halter was cropped to show a sliver of my stomach and had an open back while the voluminous tulle and organza skirt fell a couple of inches above my knees. At least I don’t have to worry about tripping. Still… I chewed on my lip as I stared at my reflection.
I loved it.
The only question was… would Ever?
“You were very smart to bring your handsome beau,” Bechette said with knowing eyes. “Most girls spend agonizing hours deliberating in my shop. Sometimes until they’ve dissolved into tears, but you… you, my dear, will know right away when you’ve found the perfect dress.”
“How will I know that?”
“His eyes, mademoiselle. Trust his eyes.”
I didn’t understand her meaning until she inclined her head toward the front room where Ever and Jamie had been waiting for at least an hour now.
I chewed on my lip, wondering if I had the courage before deciding. Taking one last look in the mirror, I left the dressing room.
Butterflies fluttered about inside my belly as I drew back the curtain and nervously stepped onto the platform. My eyes immediately went to the sofa where I expected to find him, but it was empty.
The sound of a throat clearing, however, drew my gaze across the room where Jamie and Ever stood looking like they’d been deep in conversation. Ever’s back had been facing me, but when Jamie nodded at me over his shoulder, Ever turned, and the moment his eyes found me, his lips parted, and then he froze.
I didn’t know what to think, so I looked frantically to Jamie who was biting his bottom lip and nodding with approval.
Ever, however, still hadn’t said a word.
“Do you like it?” I asked timidly.
“I want to tear it off you,” he responded hoarsely.
I felt myself deflate and wanted to run for the shelter of the curtain. “I guess that’s a no.”
He took a step forward as if learning how to walk for the first time, but then his steps became quick and sure the closer he got until he had moved up the platform steps and was standing in front of me.
It was then I could see his eyes. Glittering and gold and eyeing me hungrily. I could almost hear Bechette telling me to trust them.
“It’s a goddamn yes, princess.” He then lifted my chin and kissed my lips. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”
My sigh had him leaning in for another kiss when the sound of clapping drew us apart.
“Well?” Bechette demanded as she stepped into the waiting room. “Will it do or not?”
“Oh, it will do,” Ever agreed.
Bechette looked at me and winked.
“I’m impressed,” Jamie remarked with eyebrows damn near touching his hairline. He stalked across the room until he was standing in front of the platform. “She almost looks like a girl.”
I was about to respond when Ever drew me into his body and effectively stole my attention.
“Ms. Martin,” Jamie called, “I’d like to purchase one of your dresses for my date.”
My head popped up from Ever’s chest. “Date? You have a date? Who is this girl? I must warn her.”
“None of your business,” he replied without so much as a glance my way.
“I’m sorry, but I work by appointment only,” Bechette said with a haughty tone, “and I’m afraid I’ve been booked for months.”
I frowned. “Then how were you able to see us today? I didn’t have an appointment.”
She returned my frown. “And I’m certain you did.”
I looked up at Ever. “You made the appointment? When?”
“Three months ago.”
“But you hadn’t asked me to go.”
“I didn’t know I needed to,” he replied with a wry twist of his lips.
“This is all disgustingly sweet,” Jamie cut in, sounding like he was close to gagging, “but I’m trying to make a transaction here.” Turning to Bechette, he said, “I don’t need an appointment. I need that dress.” He then pointed to a beautiful red number with a sweetheart neckline descending into a gold and pearl beaded bodice, a short red skirt that would hug his date’s thighs and show off her legs, particularly if they were long, and a dramatically full, overlaying red skirt with a hem that matched the bodice and would drag the floor as she walked.
“Excuse me?” Bechette yelped. “Do you know how much that dress will cost?”
“I didn’t ask for the price,” he bit back.
“Alterations will need to be made for a proper fit, and as I said, I’m booked.”
“I already know her measurements.”
Bechette paused, seemingly running out of arguments. “You will have to be absolutely sure, young man, or my beautiful design will be wasted.
“I’m sure.”
“How?” I blurted.
He finally regarded me with unchecked certainty. “That’s for me to know.”
I didn’t argue, and neither did Bechette when he drew her aside for his instructions. I looked up at Ever, hoping he might have some answers, and found him watching me. “Do you know who he’s buying the dress for?”
“I have a good idea,” he answered slowly.
I waited for him to tell me, but he shook his head. “Nothing I say or do will stop him, and I’m really not in the mood to destroy this place trying to get him to listen.”
“You two really need to learn how to communicate without using your fists.”
He gave a short laugh. “It’s been our way since we learned how to use them.”
Resting one hand over his heart and the other cupping his nape, I gave him a look that had his smile falling. “Find a new way.”
ETA to Prom… 3 Days
It’s been a month since my father forced me to stand up the Montgomerys so he could kick me out of his house instead. My mom had welcomed me with open arms while I tried like hell not to let my resentment of her leaving cloud the reality of finally having her home. It was what I had risked my life for, after all.
She was renting a modest two-story home just minutes from my school and the home we once shared, but it was still hell not being under the same roof or sleeping in the same bed as Four. And the only time I really got to see her now was at school because my father made sure to change the locks after he sent me packing.
I half expected him to kick Jamie out for good measure, but he must have realized Four wasn’t that kind of girl. It also might have to do with the fact that when he asked me plainly if I was screwing his girlfriend’s daughter, I simply told him that I loved her.
My mom had offered to speak to him, which obviously meant she was unaware of why he kicked me out in the first place. Up until she’d made the offer, I thought she knew and had waited for a lecture that never came. At first, I found it weird that she never asked why but then assumed she was just happy to have me close. We still haven’t talked since she came home—unless asking about my day or my father counted.