Page 49 of Letters of Faith
Grayson:Peach…
Georgia:Still waiting.
Grayson:Georgia, will you please go outside and look at the package at your door?
Georgia:Well—since you asked so nicely.
Throwing my phone back on the bed, I walk out of my bedroom and open the front door. Just like he said, there’s a package with a note on top. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the package, but it definitely wasn’t a dress box from the high-end boutique in town. Grabbing the note and the box, I take it inside back to my bedroom.
Georgia:What is this?
Grayson:Did you even bother reading the note? Let me answer that—no. Otherwise, you would know. Now read the note and do what it says. Goodbye.
I’m going to strangle the man. Pulling the note off the top of the box, I take my time unfolding it. I don’t know why I’m suddenly nervous—but butterflies dance in my stomach.
Peach,
It’s time we go on that date.
Put on the dress.
I’ll pick you up at 7.
Love,
Grayson
Laying down the note, my hands tremble as I reach for the ribbon wrapped around the dress box. This is it—I’m going on a date with someone who isn’t my husband. I’m going on a date with my husband’s best friend. This is crazy. What am I thinking? A thousand doubts runthrough my mind, but they all become silent when I pull the lid off the box.
Placing my phone on the bed beside the note, I reach in and pull out the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen. The material is black velvet, and when I hold it up against me, it drapes to the floor with a slit that runs up the side of one leg. The sleeves pillow until they end in a cuff for each wrist. The sweetheart neckline is modest but enough to make anyone feel beautiful if she wears it.
Pretty isn’t a strong enough word for this dress.
It’s gorgeous—stunning—and way too much.
I gently fold the dress back into the box before picking up the phone and dialing Grayson’s number. The phone rings twice before he sends it to voicemail. Then, in quick succession, a text comes in.
Grayson:Put it on, Peach. I’ll see you tonight.
I don’t know when the man learned to read my mind, but it’s annoying.
Huffing, I look at the clock on my bedside table—five o’clock.
The dress probably won’t even fit. It’s not like Grayson’s ever bought me clothes, so I doubt he knows my size. If it doesn’t fit, maybe we can just stay in—watch a movie this time—because then I can pretend, just for one more night, that I’m not letting go of Nate.
Slipping my clothes off, I grab the dress and pull it over my head. The inside is lined with silk, and the fabric is soft against my skin. It fits perfectly.
There’s a mirror on the other side of the room beside my dresser. My steps are slow and measured as I walk over to it. When I’m standing in front of it, I nearly cry.
The woman in front of me looks healthy. The darkness that’s lined my eyes since Nate’s been gone has faded. I’ve put on some of the weight I’d lost, and there’s a pink glow in my cheeks. The sparkle in my eye makes me look alive. I look like the girl I was before—a womanI never thought I would see again. But I’m not that woman anymore. My throat aches as I look closer. There are wrinkles in the corner of my eyes from all the days I spent worrying about Nate, and the harsh set of my mouth tells the story of all the grief I’ve endured. There’s no going back. Death shapes and molds you, and I’m starting to realize that it’s up to me who it will mold me into. For a long time, I’ve hidden from everyone—including myself—but as I stand in the mirror, I see a woman ready to stop hiding and feel wanted again.
Turning to see the back of the dress, I spot Nate’s last letter on my dresser, and my wedding rings lay beside it. I took my rings off six months ago. They were a constant reminder of the life I wouldn’t have. Picking them up, I slip them on my finger. They fit, just like they always did, but now their weight feels wrong, like I no longer fit into that life.
I expect that to make me feel guilty, but for once, it doesn’t. When I dreamed about Nate that night, I think it was my subconscious telling me what I’d been trying to deny. Nate would be okay with me falling for Grayson because he loved him. I’ve been placing the guilt on my shoulders—not giving myself a real chance to move on, but that ends tonight.
Squaring my shoulders, I march into the bathroom to get ready.
Tonight, I’m going to allow myself to heal.
