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“Sophie. That’s it. You have to pick this one.” Lauren is the first to recover.
Emma finds her voice and claps her hands like the little girl I remember. “Mom, you look so good!”
I step out of the dressing room so I can look in the big mirror at the end of the hallway. I stand as tall as I can and eye myself. I haven’t worn a dress this tight since before Emma was born, but it doesn’t look as bad as I expected. The fabric hugs my body, a low dip in the front of the dress somehow doesn’t make it feel like my boobs are going to fall out at the slightest breeze. I twist to look at the back and grin at the way the dress shows off my assets. “You think so?”
“Seriously, Mom? You look hot!”
“Well, you don’t have to sound so surprised.” I tweak Emma’s nose when she huffs at me. The action catches the price tag under my arm. Curious, I pull it out to look. The bile that rushes up my throat is instantaneous. I freeze, afraid to breathe too hard. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Lauren. Take it off. Take it off me right now.” My words get faster and louder with each syllable.
“What? What’s wrong?” Lauren is at my side in a blink, hands waving over my body, searching for the source of my panic.
“Look. At. The. Tag,” I grind out between my teeth. I’m holding as still as possible, terrified if I breathe too ambitiously I’ll damage the dress.
“Sophie, you scared the shit out of me. That’s not funny. You gave me a heart attack, woman!” Lauren doesn’t seem at all concerned about the number of zeros printed on the tag.
“Lauren, there is no way I can afford this dress. It’s three thousand dollars!” I hiss. “I didn’t even pay this much for my wedding dress. Help me get out of it, please.” I can’t help the tears that well up in my eyes. I love this dress. I love the way I look in it, but this is exactly why I was afraid to let Lauren pick—she never looks at price tags until after she’s fallen in love with a dress. We’ve been scraping by for so long that the idea of spending more than a hundred dollars on a dress makes me want to throw up.
“Calm down Soph.” Lauren laughs at my panic. “I told Mr. Sutton if he wanted your company at the gala he was going to have to pony up for the dress.” She reaches into her purse and pulls a matte black credit card out of the pocket. “You realize that he probably pays more for a bottle of wine.”
“But…”
“Nope. You’re getting this dress.” Lauren’s voice drops. “Sophie, you look amazing in it.” I can’t help glancing in the mirror again at Lauren’s words. “When was the last time you did anything for yourself? Theodore Sutton isn’t going to care. This is pocket change to him. You, my friend, deserve to have a night out, looking and feeling as gorgeous on the outside as you are on the inside.” Lauren wraps her arms around me and squeezes tight for a moment. The tears that had welled up at my panic slip down my cheeks.
It’s been so long since I was the one being taken care of. Between Emma’s health issues as a toddler and tip-toeing around Jake, taking care of myself has been my lowest priority for so long I don’t think I know how anymore. But still, I can’t accept this dress. It's too much.
“I get final say. And as much as I love this dress, I’m not getting it. I can’t Lauren. I just can’t. Go find me something else. Preferably something that costs less than my rent.” I gently push her towards the racks of dresses to look for something else.
Emma pops up from her stool the second Lauren walks away. “Why won’t you get this one Mom? You look amazing. Don’t you think you deserve to feel like a million bucks for one night?” She shakes her head in disbelief that I would choose not to let someone else buy me this dress.
“No sweetie. I wouldn’t enjoy myself, no matter how good I looked. The whole time I would feel like I owed Mr. Sutton something because he bought me such an expensive dress.” Emma opens her mouth but I shush her. “No. It’s not right and you know it. I can’t accept something so expensive, especially if he doesn’t even know what he’s buying. It doesn’t matter if he would think it was expensive or not. I think it’s too expensive, so I could never enjoy it. End of discussion. Why don’t you go help Lauren look?”
I step back into the dressing room and take one last look at myself before sliding the dress off my shoulders and hanging it back up. I meant what I told Emma and Lauren. I would never be able to enjoy the evening knowing I owed so much to a man who didn’t even know my real name. And it feels wrong to let a man who isn’t my husband—ex-husband—buy me something so expensive.
I pull my phone out while I wait for the girls to come back with more dresses. There’s a few emails from Emma’s school, a reminder for Emma’s annual checkup, and a text from Jake.
Jake: Hey, I really need to talk to you. Can you please call me?
I stare at the message, turning my options over in my mind. I could ignore him. But then he’ll just keep sending them and sending them. If he’s really in a mood, he’ll start sending them to Emma too. Ugh. I just want him to give me space, I don’t want to deal with him right now. The papers are signed, what more does he need? Why can’t he just leave me alone?
“Mom?”
A beautiful deep burgundy dress comes sailing over the top of the dressing room. It’s very similar in style to the blue one, but with velvet accents at the bust instead of a ruffle. Before I pull it on, I check the price tag. It’s a much more reasonable three figure number. It’s still more than I would ever spend on myself, but at least I won’t feel like a high-paid escort in this one.
Five
Theo
“Mr. Sutton?” Mercedes, my assistant, pokes her head into my office. I peer out from behind my monitor, tapping one earbud to pause my podcast so I can hear. “Lauren Masterson is here to return your card.”
“Send her in.” I straighten my tie out of habit and pull both earbuds out. Assessing the state of my desk, I opt to stay seated rather than get up. Sometimes perching on the edge of my desk affords me an extra aura of power, but I won’t need it for this meeting. She could have just left my card with Mercedes, but I need her intel on this Elinor woman.
Lauren steps into my office, glancing around. “I, uh, brought your card back.” She swallows audibly. “And the receipt.”
I hold my hand out to take them from her. “I trust that an acceptable outfit was found?” How much of my money did she spend?
“Yes, sir.” A little more confidence slips into her voice at this. “S—Elinor was very grateful for your assistance with the purchase.”
“Please let her know that the limo will pick her up at eight o’clock sharp. Do you have an address for me?”
