Page 49 of Away With You
“If you’re sure?” Her gaze is still troubled, and I nod with what I hope is an encouraging smile. She has no idea how sure I am. If this is what it takes to make her more comfortable attending this stupid wedding next week, well, I’d buy her the contents of this entire store. And add some extras for Rosie as well.
“Let’s go!” My sister hands her a glass of champagne and nudges her towards the closest rack of dresses. “We’re going to have so much fun.”
Katie spares me one last glance over her shoulder before giving in, placing her champagne flute down on the table next to her and following Rosie’s instructions. I stare until I see hershoulders relax and hear her husky giggle, then settle myself onto a couch strategically placed out of the way, in the room's corner. Knowing my sister as well as I do, we’re going to be here all afternoon; I may as well make myself comfortable while they do their thing.
And that’s where I stay for the next two hours. Over this time, I catch mere glimpses of the two women as they make their way through the store. I see Claudia rushing about, refilling Rosie’s champagne glass and pouring cups of tea for Katie. Along the way, platters of sushi appear and are promptly whisked past me, and through it all, I bathe in the sound of laughter. Katie’s laughter, to be specific. Whatever magic my sister is conjuring up back there to make my fake girlfriend sound so happy is worth this paid shopping spree Christmas present ten times over. Turns out, I’d pay anything to have Katie sound so joyful for an entire afternoon.
“Okay, big bro. We need your help.”
I stand at attention. This is the first time anyone has even acknowledged me as anything other than the cash donor at this event, and I’m dying to be useful. And also, to catch another glimpse of a certain raven-haired beauty. It’s been hours since I’ve seen her.
“What do you need?” I call out.
Rosie appears, her cheeks flushed and her blonde hair dishevelled. She looks like she’s been running a marathon; though to be fair, shopping is a form of cardio for my sister.
“Katie is being difficult.”
“I can’t imagine that,” I deadpan. That woman is known for being difficult, in the cutest possible way.
“I heard that,” the woman in question calls out, her tone affronted.
“Anyway,” Rosie drawls. “She’s trying on the most stunning dress to wear to the wedding, and she’s being stubborn. Saying it’s not appropriate.”
“If she’s not comfortable in the dress, Rosie, then she shouldn’t get it.”
My sister sighs, like my words are hurting her soul. “This dress is made for her, Nate. Just take a look, and then we can talk.”
I nod, hurrying towards the back, where I know Katie is waiting. My heart thumps in my chest at the thought of seeing her in this dress, in any dress, and I swallow against my suddenly dry throat.
“Do you want to show me?” I ask the closed dressing-room door.
Silence greets me. I wait her out.
“Fine,” she groans several minutes later. “But I’m not getting it.”
The door opens in slow motion, and then there she was. The dress she’s wearing was the lightest shade of pink, making her skin glow and her hair shine. After spending years listening to Rosie’s lectures on fashion and subliminally absorbing knowledge from the Vogue magazines she leaves around my house, I know a bit about designer dresses. And the one Katie was wearing was nothing short of spectacular. It’s made of a heavy satin fabric, off-the-shoulder into a deep-v, revealing a tantalising glimpse of her cleavage, hugging her body down over her hips and floating to the floor, with a mid-thigh-high split completing the look.
In this dress, Katie looks like a goddess.
“You don’t like it?” I ask, my tone rough. I clear my throat and try again. “I mean, how can you not like it? You look…”
“Incredible? Stunning? Sexy?” Rosie supplies while I flounder.
“Yes,” I agree, my gaze running all over her body.
Katie looks over her shoulder at her reflection in the mirror. I follow her gaze and swallow hard. The view of her back is as spectacular as the front.
“Isn’t it too much?” She’s biting her bottom lip, her fingers doing the hair-twirling thing again. “And the colour is wrong.”
“That colour is perfect on you,” I announce. Her eyes fly to mine and my cheeks heat. “I mean, what’s wrong with the colour?”
“It’s too close to white.” Her hands smooth over her hips, and my gaze follows them with envy. “Don’t you think it’s tacky to be in a colour so close to bridal white?”
I have no idea if it’s tacky or not. All I know is that this dress was made for Katie. It worships her curves as much as I do.
“It’s pink,” my sister insists. “Not white. There’s not a single thing tacky about this dress. Or you.”
Katie continues to fiddle with the dress, and I tilt my head at Rosie, asking her with my eyes to give us a moment. She nods, drifting away, pulling a keen-eyed Claudia along with her.
