Page 45 of Ghost's Obsession

Frankie shouts over her shoulder, “Milo! Black coffee for the brothers, a latte for Brittany and…” she pauses and turns to me. “What would you like?”

“Do you have sparkling water?” I ask. My stomach is still doing okay, but I don’t want to risk it.

“Sure do. Milo, be a sweetheart and grab a bottle of water for Heather.”

A man peeks out from behind a curtain in the back—tall, rail-thin, and pale like he doesn’t get out much. His wire-framed glasses slip down his nose as he nods quickly and vanishes again.

Ghost leans over to me, whispering, “That’s Milo, Miss Frankie’s man. He used to hide behind fake shopping trips so he could stare at her. Now he brings her lattes and does her accounting. Weirdest love story ever.”

Frankie catches us looking and calls over, “Don’t judge, girls. He’s good at what he’s good at, and that makes him a keeper.”

Milo shoots Frankie a nervous little grin, like he’s tickled that she’s saying flattering things about him.

I can’t help but smile to myself because they’re cute together, and I already like her energy.

Milo returns a minute later with three coffees and a bottle of water.

Ghost grabs one of the coffees and tells me, “Go shop, sweetness. My treat.”

Before I can reply, Frankie speaks up. “You boys make yourselves comfortable,” gesturing towards a pair of sturdy velvet chairs off to the side. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.”

She turns to me with a grand smile. “Let’s see if I can get you to say yes to the dress today.”

I can’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. When we walk back, Brittany’s already pulled on her dress and even somehow managed to get the damn thing zipped up the back. She’s standing in front of a set of mirrors examining her reflection from every angle. She’s clearly in her element, knows what she’s looking for in terms of how it fits. The dress is perfect for her from what I can see. It flatters all the right curves.

Frankie calls out, “You are by far my easiest customer, Brittany. You always know exactly what you want.”

“I’ve had my eye on this beauty for a while now,” Brittany replies smugly.

Frankie motions to get my attention. “How about this one?” she says, holding up a green sequin number with a full skirt.

My eyes light up. “It’s beautiful, but there are so many to choose from. How will I ever know which one looks the best on me?”

Frankie beams at me. “You’ll know it when you see it.”

Brittany chimes in, “Prepare to be spoiled for choice. I know I always am when I come here.”

I walk around, brushing fabrics with my fingertips. Each gown feels more luxurious than the one before. Frankie puts the green dress back and asks, “What are we going for, honey? Glamorous? Belle of the ball? Or like Ghost said, slinky with a slit up the side?”

“I don’t know,” I admit, feeling more self-conscious by the second. “Something that doesn’t make me look like a baby bump with legs and arms?”

Frankie gasps like I just transgressed into a forbidden zone. “We don’t hide baby bumps.”

Shooting Ghost a quick glance, I see him talking to Tusk, but he’s looking at me rather expectantly. Wanting him to see me enjoying this shopping trip he arranged for me, I smile at Frankie and tell her, “You choose what you think will suit me.”

“Excellent!” she says clapping her hands. “I’ve got lots of options that fit the bill. Follow me.”

We head into a side alcove filled with soft lighting and floor-length mirrors. Brittany has gone back to the dressing room to take her dress off. Frankie pulls three gowns, one deep plum, one lush emerald green, and one champagne with silver beading. All elegant and body-skimming.

“Try these,” she says. “Trust me, they’ll look fabulous. At the moment you’re not really showing, but there’s a bit of stretch in them if you suddenly pop out between now and the charity gala.”

I step into the changing room area as Brittany is coming out. She scrapes her nails down the emerald green one. “This is the one. I’ll bet you a decaf cappuccino on that.”

I quickly change behind the curtain and step out, feeling like a much more glamorous version of myself. The plum hugs my curves. The champagne-colored one makes my eyes pop. But the emerald green one is perfection. When I step into the room in that dress, everything stops.

Even Ghost, sipping his coffee across the store, looks up and freezes for a brief second.

His eyes trail slowly from my hem all the way up to my face. Then back down again as a smirk spreads across his face.

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