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Before I can even finish my sentence, Dean cuts me off. "Let me see it."
I sit up, looking at him. "Right now?"
He grins, "Of course."
"It doesn't fit right. It's too tight in all the wrong places," I warn him as I get off the bed.
"I'll be the judge of that."
With a roll of my eyes and a playful shake of my head, I slip out of bed and pad over to the attached bathroom.
As I change into the dress, I can't help but admire the way it falls over my body. It's a beautiful piece, the color of midnight, adorned with tiny sequins that sparkle under the bathroom lights. The dress hugs my waist before flaring out just a bit, and I can't deny the way it makes me feel beautiful and confident.
But there's also a knot of nervousness in my stomach. It's not every day that I dress up like this, and I'm not sure how Dean will react. Taking a deep breath, I step out of the bathroom.
Dean is sitting up, his eyes immediately finding mine. As I stand there, under his gaze, I feel a flush creeping up my cheeks. But any insecurity is washed away by the way he's looking at me, his eyes wide with admiration and surprise.
"I'll kill them," Dean says suddenly, his voice serious.
I turn to look at him in surprise, my eyebrows shooting up. "Who?" I ask, my mind racing with possibilities.
"Whoever made you think that you're less than absolutely perfect," he replies, his eyes never leaving mine.
My heart warms at his words, a soft chuckle escaping my lips. "I appreciate the sentiment, Dean," I say, "but my mom is off limits."
I walk over to the bed and sit down next to him. His arm instinctively wraps around me, pulling me closer.
"Your mom?" Dean asks, his voice laced with surprise.
I nod, biting my lip nervously. "She's not like me, Dean. She's always been this picture of perfection - skinny, blonde, and effortlessly beautiful."
Dean's brows furrow slightly, and he looks at me, a question forming on his lips. "Is that why you've been dieting? Because your mom is coming into town?" His voice is full of concern, his hand squeezing mine reassuringly.
I gulp, feeling an uncomfortable knot in my stomach. I nod, admitting the truth. "Yes," I whisper, unable to meet his gaze.
Dean's hand lifts my chin, forcing me to look at him. His eyes are filled with sincerity as he says, "Lily, you don't need to be on a diet. You're perfect just the way you are." The conviction in his voice is heartening, washing over me and filling me with a sense of relief and warmth.
Dean looks at me, his eyes softening. "I'm sorry, Lily," he murmurs, his thumb brushing against my cheek. "I never realized your relationship with your mom was so terrible."
I let out a soft sigh, resting my head on his shoulder. "It's not terrible, Dean," I correct him, "just complicated." I can feel his gaze on me, a supportive silence inviting me to continue.
"My childhood wasn't all bad," I start, my voice a soft whisper. Memories flood back, of laughter and love, of a time when things were simpler, less complex. "My sister Rachel and I were closer to our dad growing up. He understood us and loved us for who we were."
The words hang in the air between us, creating a heaviness that wasn't there before. I struggle to keep my emotions in check, to prevent the tears from threatening to spill.
"But he passed away last year," I finish, my voice barely audible. The pain is still raw, still fresh. No amount of time could ever dull the ache of losing a parent.
Dean's hand stills on my arm. "I'm sorry, Lily. Is that why you moved to Cooper Hills?"
I nod, a lump forming in my throat. "Yes. I needed a fresh start."
Dean pulls me closer, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Thank you," he murmurs.
"For what?" I ask, looking up at him.
"For tonight. For trusting me to take care of you."
His words wash over me, soothing the insecurities that have been gnawing at me. It's not the first time we've had this conversation, but each time, it feels like a balm to my soul. I lean into him, my head resting on his shoulder, his heartbeat a comforting rhythm in my ear.
