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The clerk grinned, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Let me see what I can find.”
She left and returned a few moments later with something black over her arm.
“No wardrobe is complete without a little black dress. Try this.”
I slipped out of the red number and held up the black in front of me. Right away I noticed that there was far less fabric than with the first one. That only made me more eager to wear it. The clerk helped me with the dress, pulling the nearly skintightarticle over my head and zipping it up. Once it was on, I looked into the mirror.
“Wow.” The word fell out of my mouth.
The dress was most definitely sexier than the last. It was tight and short, the hem hitting me in the middle of my thigh, the top lowcut enough to show off far more of my cleavage than anything else I’d ever worn—other than a swimsuit, of course.
“Now,thisis something that you can make a statement with,” she said.
I turned, getting a look at my profile. “It sure is. Not sure what that statement might be, though. Hm. How about something a little between the two? As fun as it is to wear something like this, I don’t know if I want people looking at my butt instead of the art.”
She chuckled. “I’ve got a few more in mind.”
Just then, another tinge of nausea hit me. I placed my hand against the wall and closed my eyes, letting the sensation move through me.
“You alright?”
“Fine. Just… I think I need to run to the CVS.”
“Sure. I’ll get a few more pieces for you to try on while you’re there.”
I quickly changed back into my street clothes and left the changing area. In the other spaces I could hear Marianne giggling with excitement as she tried something on, along with Pearl calling out “there’s nowayI’m wearing this in public!”
I chuckled, making my way onto the main shop floor. Roberto was there, seated in the waiting area and reading the New York Times. I nodded to him as I hurried to the entrance. When he realized what I was doing, he quickly folded the paper and hurried to my side.
“Something I can help you with, Emily?”
Shit. I needed to get to the drug store and take a test. But there was no way I’d be able to do that without having Roberto on my ass.
“CVS,” I said. “Need some, um, Tums.”
The skeptical expression on his face made it clear he didn’t believe me for a second.
“Sure. I’ll escort you.”
“That’s OK,” I said with a nervous smile. “I’m fine on my own. But, um, thanks.”
His skepticism only increased. “Emily, as much as I want to respect your independence…”
He didn’t need to finish the sentence. I knew there was no way I’d be able to buy and take the test without him knowing.
“Can we walk and talk?”
His expression softened. “Of course. Come on.”
Together we stepped out onto the city streets, people all around us, the road to our left packed with cars.
“What’s wrong, Emily?” he asked.
There was no getting around it, no lying my way out of this one. I needed a pregnancy test; Roberto was going to find out one way or another.
I paused in the middle of the sidewalk, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the enormity of what was happening.
Roberto placed his big hand on my arm, taking me out of the path of oncoming pedestrians.
