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“When I told you your bun wouldn’t cut it, I didn’t quite mean this,” William teased.
“Don’t start. It’s been a rough morning.” Anne pushed past him and set her bag on the floor. “Can we get on with this?”
“Little sister hog the bathroom this morning?”
“Do I have to try on all of these?” Anne turned to the sea of sparkles and organza before her.
“No.” William shook his head. “Not the yellow. It wouldn’t match your skin tone. You’d look like Big Bird.”
Anne narrowed his eyes.
“Granted, it would be the only big thing about you.”
“At this point, Pigg’s hit man isn’t the one you need to worry about killing you.”
William chuckled. “I just need you to pick a gown, and I’ll have my tailor fit it for you.”
“Fine.” Anne walked up to the dresses. She pulled out a peach gown with a trumpet skirt and large flowers.
“Ah, the Jovani,” William said.
“It looks like someone murdered their curtains.” Anne pushed it back into the rack.
William rubbed a finger along his lips to cover a smile.
Anne peered at the detailing on a long black gown. “This one looks like it belongs to a pregnant teenager going to junior prom.”
“You are the pickiest woman. That’s Sachin & Babi.”
“I don’t care about labels. And I don’t have occasions to wear fancy gowns often. Or go out outside of work by myself.” Anne pulled each gown out to examine it.
“Is Michelle still that needy?” William sat on the arm of his sofa.
“It’s complicated.” Anne pulled out another cream-colored gown. “What the hell is this? Why does it have handprints on the hips and an insane flower on the chest?”
“It’s Alexander McQueen.” William bit his lower lip. “If I’d known you were going to be like this, I would’ve had them send up more dresses. This is golden.”
“Funny, I never knew you were into torture.” Anne pulled up another dress, this one with a Grecian cut. “No, this is golden. Literal gold. There’s less tacky bits on a pre-school art project.”
“Just try something on, love.” William sounded so amused and tender that Anne was tempted to forgive him for putting her through this.
Anne had to admit, though, it was possible that she was just irritated by a lack of sleep and Evie being difficult that morning. She was usually such a good girl, but sometimes she would have fits of stubbornness. No doubt, Anne’s extra work this week was resulting in the behavior from her sweet little devil-angel.
William clicked his tongue. “All right. Go into the bedroom. I’ll select a few.”
“Why would I let you do that?”
“Because I want you to look nice. Go.” William made a shooing motion and turned his eye to the rack.
“Who picked these out?” Anne demanded as she went into the bedroom.
“I gave the woman at the store your size, although admittedly, I guessed what it might be now.”
“Is that a dig?” Anne said dryly. She sat on William’s bed and smoothed her hands over the gorgeous silk damask bedspread. “Are you mocking me?”
“I’m saying I’m not a woman, and I don’t know women’s sizes, which are an enigma wrapped in a mystery as it is.”
“That’s fair, I guess.” Anne lifted her gaze to the Las Vegas skyline. It was utterly amazing from here. She could only imagine what this view was like at night when the lights made the city glow like magic.
William entered with three dresses, one cream with a golden shimmer on the detail and two very light blue. “Try them on. Tell me which one you like.”
“Fine.” Anne took her turn shooing him.
When he had closed the door, Anne slipped out of her clothes and looked down at her mismatched bra and panties. She couldn’t have felt less like someone who should be going to a fancy gala. She slipped into the cream dress and groaned. The fabric was so soft and slinky. She didn’t zip it up, choosing instead to walk over to the mirror to see how it looked on her. The sleek sheath of the dress was overlaid with glimmering leaves and a transparent gauze. It was beautiful, and in it, she felt like a battered, plain-looking doll. She gave the zipper a tug, and it went up until it reached her hips, where the dress was far too snug. William had guessed the size wrong. Or rather, her proportions no longer matched the clothes hanger model figure that designers imagined when coming up with these dresses.
With a sigh, she shimmied out of the dress and put it back on the hanger.
“Any luck?” William called.
