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I appreciate that Christina doesn’t treat either of us like a pity case. She doesn’t ask us questions, even though I know she’s dying to. I also love that she is being so welcoming and kind to Ember. She’s the first person to truly do so since we escaped, unless you count Ms. Evans, but even Ms. Evans stared at us as if we were walking ghosts. Not Christina. She sees me as her friend, and she sees Ember as the woman I love.
“She needs undergarments, shoes… everything,” I say as I start searching for my size in a pile of nicely folded jeans. I then steal a look at Christina, who is holding a dress up to Ember. “I think Ember will prefer flats too. My mother is trying to break her ankles in those heels she loaned her.”
Rather than brushing me off or telling me that women must wear what’s in style, Christina nods and says, “I have the cutest ballet flats that are going to look amazing on you. We have several colors, and I think Christopher’s credit card demands to have one of each.”
I laugh, watch Ember hold back laughter with mischief in her eyes that I love seeing, and call out, “Whatever Ember wants.”
What feels like an eternity of watching Ember go into the changing room, out of the changing room in clothes that fit her perfectly, and then back into the changing room to repeat, and repeat, and repeat, we are finally done. I don’t even look at the final total, nor do I care. I would buy the entire store for Ember if she wanted it. The woman deserves to be pampered, even though she doesn’t even know what that is.
“Is there anything left in the store?” I tease, but I walk up to Ember, wrap my arms around her from behind, and kiss the side of her neck. “You looked beautiful in everything.”
“Oh, I had a little mercy,” Christina says. “A little.”
“Are you sure?” Ember asks as she looks at me for approval. “We don’t have to get everything if you feel it’s too much.”
“Let’s bring the bags to the driver,” I say, ignoring her concern. “He can bring them home while we’re having dinner.” I give Ember a kiss on her forehead. “It’s the first of many shopping trips. You’ll never do without or have to borrow clothing from anyone again.”
I spin her around to get one more look at her, which has her blushing and laughing lightly. Ember remains in a dress from the shop that has flowers on it. It sort of reminds me of the floral dresses she wore in Hallelujah Junction, but it actually fits her, isn’t faded, and is modern and from this decade.
I look down at her feet in a pair of beige flats and ask, “Do those feel all right?”
She follows my gaze to her feet and says, “They still feel… restrictive. But much better than those other awful shoes I was wearing. How do women wear those all day?”
“We’re masochists, my friend. Masochists,” Christina says with a sparkling laugh. “But no need to be like us. You look amazing today, and I love your style. I wish I could pull off the innocent, pure look you have. Work it to your favor.”
“Thank you so much,” Ember replies. “You have the most beautiful clothes in your store, and I can’t thank you enough for helping me. I wouldn’t have known where to start.” She then walks over to where I stand putting my credit card away and wraps her arms around me tightly. “Thank you, Christopher. Thank you for arranging this and for getting me all these clothes and shoes. I needed to get out of the house. I appreciate everything, but—”
“I know,” I interrupt. “It’s a lot.” I kiss her briefly on the lips. “And no need to thank me. We’re married now. It’s a husband’s duty to spoil his wife.”
“Oh, it’s just the beginning,” Christina says. “We’re going to enjoy spoiling the hell out of you.” She bags up the last of the purchases and looks at her watch. “We finished just in time to head to Luciano’s. Michael will be waiting for us with a meal like no other. We need to fatten you both up a little.”
I pause and take in the happiness I see on Ember’s face. It’s a look I’ve never truly seen before, and a look I plan to make happen every single day.
My captive bride is finally happy. A little taste of freedom is all it takes.
8
Ember
I’ve never been to a restaurant before. Like everything with my life, I’ve read about them, imagined them, but never thought I would actually be inside one, sitting at a table, and about to eat at one.
“Sit, sit, sit,” Michael says with more excitement than I’ve ever seen.
