She kept her expression neutral, but a tiny divot formed between her eyebrows. “Okay. What’s the problem then? Why the concern with your outfit?”
I swallowed, struggling to put it into words. But as I stared at the dress on my bed, I didn’t want sudden wardrobe anxiety to impact my night.
“Ever since we met, I’ve felt…different. Wanted. Grown up. Sexy. I love never having to guess if he wants me or not. He’s always touching me and commenting on how beautiful I look. How desirable I am to him. It feels good.” I shrugged. “I think it’s special.”
Tessa bit the inside of her lower lip, and her mouth twisted as she thought over what I’d said, the dip in her brow deepening.
Heaving an exasperated sigh, I propped my hands on my hips. “What? Spit it out.”
“I guess I just don’t get what this has to do with your clothes.” She shrugged. “It sounds like Finn won’t care what you wear, right?”
“Yes, butI care. I…” Releasing a breath, I threw my hands in the air and turned back to my closet. “I want to look how I feel.”
Tessa made a noncommittal sound from the bed. “And…just so I’m understanding correctly, your clothes don’t make you feel wanted?”
I poked my head back out of the closet, pursing my lips and giving her a look. “I’ve had everything in this closet since high school.” Dropping my voice and ducking back into the closet, I admitted more to myself than to her. “And maybe my clothes remind me of beingunwanted.”
“Ah.”
Of course, she’d heard me.
I snatched two different dresses off their hangers and marched back out to face her. “Oh my God, Tessa. Just say it!”
“Well…you have been different since meeting Finn. Not necessarily in a bad way. It’s been a bit fast, but not bad. It’s been nice to see you step out of your comfort zone and explore.”
I tapped my foot on the carpet. “Okay, but…”
“But are you into Finn? Or just into feeling wanted?” When I flinched, she put up her hands. “Wait. Please don’t be upset. Neither one is wrong. I’m just asking if you know which one it is, because one is about Finn and the other might be about…”
She didn’t finish the thought, but she didn’t have to. Her gaze darted to my bedroom door, where Blake’s empty bedroom sat directly across from it.
“I’m into Finn,” I said firmly. “He communicates, and he’s consistent. He talks to me about art, writes me poems, and supports my dreams to start a foundation one day. Not that—” I huffed, growing frustrated. Blake would support my dream, too,but pointing that out wouldn’t convince Tessa. “IlikeFinn.Heis good for me.Heis helping me move on fromthat.”
Her sympathetic smile told me I hadn’t eased her concern. “I love that he makes you feel good.Wanted. I just don’t like the thought of you using him, or anyone, as proof you’ve moved on or grown up. Plus, he gets a little weird every time you mention Blake.”
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. “Everyone gets weird when I talk about Blake. I’m weird when I talk about Blake. The goal is to be less weird, Tessa. And I have been. I’m happy.”
She nodded, clearly wanting to say more but deciding against it. “Then that’s all I care about. As long as you’re happy, I’m good.”
“I am.” With a resolute nod, I pointed at my outfits. “And I’ll be happier when my outfit says, ‘Make me a woman. I’m ready.’ Again. If you can help me with that, I’ll love you forever.”
Snorting at my antics, she got up and joined me in front of the mirror. She looped her arm through mine and nudged me with her hip. “Well, look at that. Already improved, if you ask me. But where are your necklace and bracelet?”
I glanced at my bare neck and wrist, and then nodded to where my jewelry sat on my dresser. “Finn asked the other day why I always wear the same jewelry. I thought I’d switch things up for tonight.”
Tessa frowned. “But you always wear those. Why would he have a problem with that?”
“He didn’t,” I assured her quickly. “Change isn’t always a bad thing, Tessa.”
She nodded slowly. “You’re right…but just make sure the changes are what you want.” When I bristled, she clarified. “A woman is best dressed when she has the right accessories complementing her outfit, and those pieces are part of you. That’s all I’m saying.”
I nodded, unsure how I felt about it or if it had contributed to my sudden wardrobe crisis.
As I stared at us together, I imagined moving forward or changing without her. I couldn’t fathom it. At my side, she complemented me, drawing attention to places that might otherwise be overlooked.
I had to admit she made an excellent point.
As was our tradition,no matter how busy life got or how much I wanted to avoid the apartment to focus on moving on, the three of us made a point to be home every Sunday night.
