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When I put on that dress last night, it felt powerful and beautiful. Now, as I hold the outfit up to the light and smell the harsh scent of booze, it feels cheap and stupid.
But that’s not the dress’s fault.
It’s all mine.
My phone chirps.
I ignore mom’s text and swipe to my social media pages.
One by one, I delete the posts.
Mom’s call notification suddenly fills the screen.
I freak out.
Answer on impulse.
Her voice screeches in my ears. “Asia Simone Jackson! What the hell are those posts about?”
“It’s a funny story.”
“Funny, huh?”
“I got married in Vegas.”
“You what?”
“I can explain.”
“Explain how your fiancé changed overnight?”
“The thing is…”
“I don’t remember Thad having deep brown eyes and a jaw line that can cut freaking glass!”
“Mom, Thad and I broke up,” I blurt.
Silence.
I pull my bottom lip into my teeth and chew furiously. So… I didn’t tell Mom about Thad’s text yesterday. I couldn’t.
She’d freak out.
And then she’d tell Dad.
And then keying Thad’s car would have been the tamest thing that happened to him. Mom’s been known to go full She-Hulk to protect me.
“Honey, I’m so sorry.” Mom lowers her voice. “But how did breaking up with Thad translate to marrying some guy in Vegas?”
“Well…”
There’s a thud on the door.
Someone’s outside.
“Mom, I have to go.”
“Asia…”
