Page 85 of Bless My Body

“I never make a decision without seeing all my options,” she tells me, already unzipping me and

picking up the hanger. “And as much as I love this dress, I don’t think this is the one. Black is too

boring. Ezra likes who you are, and you’re definitely not boring.”

I look at her pointedly. “You don’t know that.”

“I trust Ozzy’s judgment.” I roll my eyes. Of course she does, so I guess I have to trust him right

now, too.

Stella hands me dress after dress to try on—one in almost every color of the rainbow—to give us

options. I automatically reject the white one because it looks too much like a wedding dress. The red

is a no because it clashes with my hair, and I hate wearing red. Always have and probably always

will.

Most of the dresses are floor-length, but she has thrown in a few shorter ones. One of them is a

short black dress, but it’s completely covered in different color beads, creating an intricate design on

the front. It’s gorgeous, but we both decide it’s not the right one for the occasion. I make a mental note

to save some money and come back and buy it when I can.

Finally, we get to the last dress. “Ok, I’ve saved the best for last.”

She hands me a deep emerald green dress. As soon as I put it on, we both know it’s the one. It has

very thin straps holding up the beaded bodice with a neckline that plunges down my cleavage. The

skirt is satin with a slit that comes up to the middle of my thigh.

It’s perfect.

“This is it,” Stella says as she watches me spin in the mirror. “And don’t worry. It’s fifty percent

off, and since there’s a tiny tear at the seam I can probably sew up at home, I’m going to ask for a

discount on top of the sale price,” Stella explains.

I laugh. “Who knew you were such a bargain shopper?” I slip out of the dress and hand it over to

Stella. I put my actual clothes back on, noticing that I can still smell Ezra’s scent lingering from

earlier. I can’t stop the warm feeling that floods my body just thinking of him. I can’t wait to be close

to him again.

We exit the fitting room and hand the other dresses to an associate. Stella shops around and grabs

a few T-shirts and a pair of jeans for herself—not that she needs any more clothes, but I’m not one to

talk—before heading to the checkout counter.

The sales associate agrees to give us more of a discount because of the damage to the dress. I