Page 32 of Love Beyond Repair
Amy huffs. “Boring, you mean.”
I scowl. “Perhaps something in a darker color, and maybe with a slight sparkle?”
The assistant eyes me warily, then stalks off in the direction of the storeroom. Around ten minutes later, sheemerges with a long pink dress bag and hangs it from the hook outside the changing room.
As she slowly lowers the zipper, I hold my breath. If this is another jazzy number, I’m giving up. She lifts the dress from the bag, and my jaw drops.
It’s a long navy gown with a hint of sparkle on the waistband and bosom. The assistant’s eyes meet mine, and we both smile.
“Would you like to try this on?” she asks.
“I’d love to,” I reply, and I step forward to take the beautiful creation from her.
The shop has a viewing area like you see on those American wedding dress TV shows. I’m standing on the raised platform, admiring myself in the mirrors that surround me. This dress is incredible. It hugs my curves and finishes on the floor. The material is soft, feeling luxurious against my skin, and the color is a beautiful deep navy with similarly colored crystals detailing the waistband.
The neckline plunges low to my ribcage, lower than I’ve ever dared. I imagine Ben seeing me in this, and my pulse stutters. Short, capped sleeves display my early-summer tan. I feel incredible.
Amy stands speechless as she looks at me. Then, she simply hands over the golden card. For a moment, I don’t recognize the woman in the mirror. But I want to. She’s a woman brave enough to be wanted. Mission accomplished.
Later that day, we are sitting in a fast-food joint, nibbling on burgers as kids run and scream nearby.
“I don’t need sexy underwear.” I grimace, as heat rushes to my cheeks. “No one is going to be seeing it.”
Amy shakes her head. “Are you really that stupid? You can’t see this…” She waves her arms around. “For what it is, Bex?” She shrieks with laughter. Her speech continues as we eat lunch.
“No man, whoever he is, hands over a credit card to a woman he’s not interested in. I can’t believe you would be that dense.”
Glowering, I continue to chew. What she says makes sense, but this is Ben. I can’t comprehend that he would like me that way. Even though everything tells me that things have changed. The way he talks to me, how he looks at me when we meet. The pulse on my skin when he’s close. He means more to me than just being friends.
Never having owned sexy underwear, the thought that I might sends shivers down my spine. I’m unsure whether it is from excitement or nerves. Probably both.
“What if he checks his credit card statement and sees we’ve been shopping there?” I panic, gesturing toward the lingerie shop across from us.
“Then he will know he’s in for a good night.” Amy giggles. “Oh, Bex, you’re mad about this guy. Accept it and enjoy it. Come on, let’s get shopping.”
We throw our leftovers in the trash, and off we go in the direction of the shop with garters in the window.
***
Saturday finally arrives. I’ve had a full-on week of preparations with Amy. Ben has been busy between work and arrangements for the ball, but we’ve agreed to meet at seven o’clock, and a taxi is arranged to take us to the hotel. I woke up this morning full of nerves. I can’t decide what I’m most anxious about. The ball or him.
The hair and makeup artists have worked their magic. My blonde hair is curly and piled up on top of my head, except for two loose curls that drop down the sides of my face. My eye makeup is dark and smokey, highlighting the long lashes that frame my eyes. The pillar-box red lipstick is a statement.
I don’t even look like me. I’m like a star from a 1950’s movie.
Amy’s helping me dress and adding the finishing touches. Eventually, she convinced me to invest Ben’s money in the sexy lace underwear, just in case.
Looking at myself in the mirror as Amy pulls my dress up over my hips, I smile broadly. I look hot. Like someone worth turning heads for. There’s a knock at the door, and Ben asks if he can come in.
“No,” Amy barks. “You have to wait to see the finished article.”
“Alright.” He sighs. “There’s a little something here for you, Bex. I’ll leave it outside the door.”
As his footsteps recede, growing quieter with each step, Amy runs to open the door, grabbing the small pink box off the floor. She quickly passes it to me, but not before pausing as if wanting to open it herself.
“Well, open it,” she orders. I untie the delicate pink ribbon and lift the lid. A pair of earrings sparkle up at me. Amy’s jaw drops, and she looks from the earrings to me.
“He’s buying you diamonds now,” she whispers, and I chuckle.
