I nod. Iamokay. “You were right. This is the best surprise I’ve ever had.”
“There’s more. This is only the first half of it.”
Before I can ask him what he means, the music gets louder and more dramatic and the lights dim, leaving only spotlights on the runway.
The first model walks through the arch.
Watching the show, I forget everything.
The clothes are breathtaking. Each look is its own work ofart. Lila Bailey’s collection incorporates a lot of suede, leather, silk and fur. It might be described as cowboy glamour meets sexy, feminine, boho chic. I absolutely love it.
I’ve never been able to afford to think much about “fashion,” but I know what I like and what I don’t like. These clothes are beautiful in a way that makes you understand what a beautiful outfit isfor, and how a piece of clothing can transform the person wearing it into the best possible version of themself. The designs are incredibly flattering. You can imagine yourself wearing them and find yourself wishing you could.
“She’ssogood,” Dusty whispers, elbowing Colton.
“My wife’s a genius,” Colton whispers back and it’s kind of adorable how smitten and proud he is.
There are as many as fifty looks and each one is more stunning than the last.
The audience is rapt the entire time, and especially me.
The models do their final walk and we all stand up and clap. Colton does one of those wolf whistles with his thumb and finger as soon as a young woman, obviously Lila Bailey, walks onto the runway after the last model. She’s gorgeous and beaming in a way a person can only do when they’re realizing their wildest dreams. She waves to the crowd and blows Colton a kiss before heading back through the arch.
“That’s my wife,” Colton tells someone behind him.
The ambient music starts back up and waiters come out, carrying trays of champagne flutes and fancy-looking finger foods.
We get up with the crowd to mingle and it’s not long before Lila comes out. She runs straight into Colton’s arms and he liftsher and kisses her, a little more lustily than the situation probably calls for. It’s obvious the two of them are very much in love and I can’t help noticing how freely she gives herself to him. Like she fully, completely trusts him and has no need to ever second guess it. I notice that detail specifically becausethat’sthe part of me that’s broken. My ability to trust another person, somewhere along the line, got shattered. To witness the pureness and immensity of it in another person somehow focuses all the light in the room onto exactly that.
I want that.
I want to trust like she trusts.
I look up at Dallas, who’s holding my hand and laughing at something Cash just said. To me, Dallas is by far the most handsome man in this room—and there are a lot of handsome men here tonight. In four short days, my life has wound itself around him with the tenacity of a hearty, well-watered vine that won’t take no for an answer. Objectively speaking, he’s perfect in every sense of the word. There’s no reason not to fully immerse myself in everything he’s offering.
But what if I can’t?
What if I’m too far gone?
Everyone congratulates Lila. She gives Dallas a hug and he introduces me. “Lila Bailey, Amelie Thibodeaux.”
She immediately notices my dress. “That is one of my all-timefavoritedesigns. It completely sold out. Where did you get it?”
“New Orleans,” Dallas answers.
“It’ssoperfect on you,” she beams.
“I love it so much,” I tell her honestly. “It’s the mostbeautiful thing I’ve ever worn.” AndI’ve worn it for three days straight because I don’t have anything else to wear.
I think of my box of thrift-store clothes under the single rickety bed nine states south. The threadbare uniform that’s somewhere in the hotel laundry room and the other one I left in the white limo, long gone. I think about how my daddy taught me how to beam my imaginary diamonds out into the world, so it didn’t matter that my clothes were old. Something he taught me, I realize now, because he was gambling all our money away. And I suddenly hate him for all of it.
He stole so much from me.He’sthe reason I lost everything and have spent years of my life working so hard to merely survive.
How could you do that?
But now’s not the time or place to dig up old wounds.
I can, and am, appreciating—wildly, in fact—that I don’t have to wear those old clothes anymore. I have this dress, which I’d be perfect content to wear every day for the rest of time.
