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I pull it out and hold it in front of me by the hanger. It’s one of the dresses I moved into Derek’s house with. At the time, I didn’t know what I was throwing into my luggage, and I didn’t care. It was a dress I’d worn when I was about nineteen and never wore again. “This won’t fit.”
“Put it on and we’ll see,” Alyssa encourages.
I seriously have doubts about it, but I go into the bathroom. I slide into the dress and tug it up my body. Glancing in the mirror, I’m shocked to see only a small scrap of material clinging to my every curve. This is definitely smaller than when I last wore it. I can’t wear this in public.
“Don’t hide in the bathroom. Come out and show us,” Tamara calls from the bedroom like she knows I’m having second thoughts about leaving the outfit on.
Walking timidly back to the bedroom, I tug the hem of the skirt lower with no success. Tamara’s eyes bug from their sockets as they trail me from head to toe. “You look amazing. Donotthink about taking it off.”
“It’s too skimpy.” I skim my hands over my hips.
“The right amount of skimpy. Sexy skimpy, but not giving away all the goods,” Alyssa says. “I love it.”
God, it has been so long since I’ve dressed up in clothes other than something Derek deemed suitable for his wife. He liked me in conservative clothes. If I never wear another blazer again, it will be too soon.
“Can I really wear this in public?” I ask as I gaze with uncertainty at my reflection in the mirror.
“Of course you can. You look gorgeous.” Tamara slaps the palms of her hands on her thighs and rises from the stool. “Put some heels on and let’s go. I’m going to text my wife, Erica, to let her know where I am.”
“Why don’t you ask her to come too?” Alyssa says.
Shaking her head, Tamara says, “She can’t tonight. She’s a nurse, and she’s working nightshift.”
I look at Alyssa, needing her opinion. “What do you think? Should I wear it?”
“If you’re not comfortable, then don’t. It’s up to you. But if I had tits like yours, I’d be proud to show them off.” She giggles playfully.
This is my time now. No more restrictions. No one telling me what to wear and where to go. It’s going to take some time to get used to being in control of my own life. Nerves flutter in my chest. I shouldn’t feel this way about an innocent night out with friends. This anxious feeling is Derek’s fault. I can’t have fun without thinking it’s wrong. It’s not wrong. So why does it feel like it is? I think about the business card Tamara gave me. Maybe I should give her therapist sister a call. I want to live my life with no doubts and insecurities.
“Okay, I’ll wear it,” I say on an exhale of breath.
“Excellent,” Tamara says at the same time Alyssa says, “Watch out, boys!”
I’m happy to just go out, have fun, and forget about my messed-up life and not complicate it with men. I want to forget the biggest complication—Finn Alessi.
Chapter Seven
FINN
Knockingbackashotof whiskey, I smack the glass on the table. In the busy club, Alto, colored lights ricochet off the mirrored walls and ceilings. The music pulsing through the speakers is pounding through my brain.
How did I let Hayden and Lucas convince me to go out? Being around people is the last thing I want to do tonight. Hayden’s buddy, Theo Campbell, owns the trendy nightclub, and Lucas insisted I needed to check it out, telling me it’s what I need to pull me out of my foul mood.
“Are you going to tell us why you ran out of the office like your ass was on fire?” Lucas asks. He’d called me multiple times today asking where I was only to be told to fuck off.
Not awhatbut awho. I have no intention of telling them what happened. Because I can hardly believe it myself. So I keep my mouth shut.
“Come on, man. Were Juliette’s designs so bad? She’s been experimenting with different ideas lately. Did she scare you?” Lucas jokes, not taking offense by my rejected phone calls.
I wish it was as simple as bad designs. I tap my left ear, implying I can’t hear the conversation over the music. Hayden and Lucas make identical I-don’t-believe-your-bullshit eyerolling gestures.
“If you left to screw another Harper look-alike, I’m going to be pissed. You had meetings you missed,” Hayden says disapprovingly.
A red haze fogs my vision. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Not caring that I’m aiming a death glare his way, he continues, “Do that shit in your own time and keep it in your pants during work hours.”
My hands ball into fists on the table. “Maybe you should go home to your daughter.” I see a flash of parental guilt across Hayden’s face. A good way to get the subject off me and Hayden thinking of something else.
