Page 158 of On Merit Alone
“For you,” he said.
“I already have a dress picked out.”
“Yeah?” he said, a strange challenge in his tone. “What color is it?”
“Black?” I said. “Like all my event dresses.”
“Yeah,” he scoffed. Somehow, him nodding his head even looked sarcastic. “No way in hell, Six.”
He disappeared into my closet across the room and I followed him quickly.
“What?” I asked incredulously. “You’re not making any sense. Didn’t you hear me? I didn’t need a new dress, Ira. Much less the shoes and the jewelry.”
Rummaging through my hangers like he owned the place, he pulled one down.
“Trust me, you did.” The dress he found was black and strapless. I had pulled it out ahead of time so I wouldn’t have to go digging for it when it was time to get dressed. Turning to me he gestured to the garment with raised eyebrows that asked,‘this one?’I nodded and he started walking away.
My head cocked as I watched him move. “Is there something wrong with my clothes?”
“Yes,” he said simply, pushing right back past me as he took thehanger to the bed and slipped the small spaghetti straps of the yellow one over the velvet of the free hanger.
“Yes?” my voice went up to an almost shrill frequency. He ignored it, walking both dresses over to the large floor-length mirror in the corner of the room and hanging them side by side over the top railing. Below them he set the pretty pink shoes and some random black heels he’d found on the floor somewhere.
What was this? What the hell was he doing? Was he suddenly some kind of fashion expert? Who was he to tell me if my clothes were or weren’t good enough?
Marching over to him, I crossed my arms in front of my chest. I was no longer looking at the dresses but at his profile. When he didn’t jump to explain, I started, “Ira?—”
He turned toward me with a large sigh, and instantly, I was in his hands. Gripping me by the waist, he pulled me against him.
“Look, Six, there’s no way in hell I’m letting you leave the house in some all black getup the first time we go out when I know for a fact you like all those crazy colors you’re always wearing much better,” he said, eyes focused on me. My mouth parted, my brows knitting together but not in confusion. At least I wasn’t confused by what he was saying, just with what I’d done to deserve him standing before me like this. Who had I done a favor for in a past life to be rewarded with such a man? Dipping his head, Ira gave me a sweet kiss. But just one as he pulled back and continued to stare me down. “I don’t know why you only wear them at home, but I know you love these damn pastels. And there’s no world in which having you on my arm in what’s trending is better than having you with a smile—a close second to having you at all.”
“I…” I breathed, unable to find words.
Hands on my hips, he moved me in his grip to come stand in front of him. My back to his front. The two dresses hanging up in front of our faces. “Look at those for me.”
As I raised my chin to look at the dresses, I felt Ira’s body curlaround mine. His hands slid across my abdomen until he was holding onto my sides with opposite palms. His arms were banding around me easily as he locked me in place in his embrace. The back of my head bumped against his chin and he automatically dropped a kiss to the top of it before settling into my body. I shuddered, loving the feeling as I forced a humming noise out of my throat to let him know I was listening. He swayed us slightly, rocking our hug in a slow, playful motion.
“Now, no bullshit, which do you like more?” he asked.
“Yellow,” I answered truthfully.
“Then why the hell would you ever wear the black?”
“Because that’s just what you wear to these things.” I shrugged. And because it was becoming harder and harder to keep things from him I added, “And my personality doesn’t really match my sense of style outside the house.”
A rumble escaped him. He reached up so he could turn my face into his, his nose nuzzling my nose. “See, I thought you’d say something crazy like that. And I’m here to say, I’m not having it. You deserve to be who you are on the inside out loud too.”
“And who is that?”
“A big softy,” he smiled. “The biggest softy I know, actually. The sweetest girl. My soft ray of sunlight.”
“Ira.”
“Merit.”
“It’s so bright.”
“Translation, it’s perfect for you,” he said with a cheeky smile.
