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The mall is…what’s bigger than humongous? Because that’s it. I’ve been from my parent’s tower to Nick’s estate to a walk around the grounds. We took a trip to an ice cream shoppe nearby, as well. But that’s the extent of me being in public. Oh, and Doctor Miranda’s office.
Bruno said the earlier we came, the less crowded it would be, and if this was what he meant by that, I think he was wrong. Because there are dozens of people here, and they all seem to be staring at me. Or rather, the handsome duo standing two feet behind me.
“Take your time,” Sarge says, leaning down to me. He’s also huge. Really tall. Taller than Nick, which I didn’t think was possible.
“Where do I go?” I whisper back to him. There are all kinds of stores here, and I really wish Nick were with me. He would know what to do. But he told me to go, have fun, buy as much as I wanted. Spoil myself. I don’t know how to do any of that.
“Anywhere you want,” is the man’s answer.
“Not helpful,” I gripe.
Bruno clears his throat, and I turn to face him. “May I make a suggestion?” I give him a nod. Holding his hand out for me to go first, he says, “This way,” staying at my side while Sarge walks a couple of feet behind us.
The more people I see, the more I realize just how underdressed I am. In a pair of Nick’s shorts that we had to flip the waistband a few times, one of his button-up shirts with the sleeves rolled up, and the same shoes Nick had delivered for me, I feel less…
I feel as if their stares are on me because they know I don’t belong. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here.” I feel tears stinging the back of my eyes.
“You belong anywhere you want, Mrs. Gambino.” I frown at Sarge; they keep calling me that even though Nick and I aren’t married. I want to ask if they just do it out of uncertainty about how to address me or if Nick asked them to use it. I’m afraid of the answer I’ll get because I don’t know which one I prefer.
“Here we are.” Bruno grins like he’s found the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.
Staring into the store, I’m nervous about this. Everything looks so nice, and I don’t even know what I like. I don’t know my size. I don’t know anything.
“What do I do?” Embarrassment heats my face as I glance between Sarge and Bruno. They’re nice guys, even if it took me a few days to warm up to them, but I don’t think they fully understand the reality of how sheltered I have been.
“Uh,” Bruno shares a look with Sarge now. “You pick things you like, try them on, buy them, move on to a new store.” His shrug makes it seem like no big deal.
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter. A few other people are shopping, and there are two girls up at the front that I think work here. One gives me a friendly wave as I come across a rack of pink…everything.
Sifting through the shirts, I find a black one with a cute cartoon tiger and the words, Daddy’s Little Girl—one of the few things I’ve learned how to read on the tablet Kane set up for me—written in the string the tiger is holding. Pulling one out, I can tell it’s too small. The next is too big, and I begin to panic.
“Hi there!” The girl who waved pops up beside me, her eyes darting between my two guards. “Need some help finding a size?” Nodding is all I can manage; her happy attitude throws me off guard. “I’d say you’re probably a medium, maybe even a small. Do you like your clothes a little loose or form-fitting?” She must sense my alarm because she grabs two shirts and says, “You can try them both and see which you like better.”
She starts to walk over to another rack with more shirts, and I’m unsure if I should follow or stay where I am. I don’t know what to do, and my heart rate is speeding up.
“These would be super cute with it!” She holds up a pair of ripped jean shorts with a little heart on the leg. I bite my lip, wondering if they’re too short, but I accept them anyway. “Do you need shoes?” she asks, and I look down at my feet before nodding.
Her enthusiasm pushes me to follow along behind her as she has me try on a few pairs of flat shoes like the ones I have on. I think she called them ballet flats. They’re pure white with lacey frills along the edges. As we’re going back to the change rooms, she grabs a checkered shirt and hangs everything up inside the cubicle.
“Come on out once you’ve got it all on, and you can wear it right out of the store!” She jumps a little and claps her hands.
Chewing the inside of my lip, I’m a little nervous about it, but Sarge gives me an encouraging sign, so I do as she suggests. I chose the smaller shirt size because it’s not too big or too small. The shorts aren’t snug, and they don’t hang off, and I like the look of the checkered shirt over top.
“Perfect!” she says, making adjustments to some of the clothes, like tying the ends of the shirt across my stomach. “I knew you’d look so cute in this.”
The shirt I’ve learned is a crop top; it falls just above my navel. I’m almost certain I should be wearing a bra, but I don’t have one, and I don’t particularly like them.
Showing me up to the checkout, she pulls all the tags off, rings me up, and Sarge hands her the card Nick gave him for me. She then removes the security tags from the clothes before bagging what I wore into the store.
After saying goodbye, we leave, and I finally take a breath.
“Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Bruno grins at me.
“She was very bubbly.” I don’t think I got a single word in, not that I mind, but she didn’t seem to notice, either.
“Like a kitten on crack,” Sarge mutters, and I laugh. He doesn’t make many jokes, but every once in a while, he knows how to lighten the mood.
Bruno leads the way to the next store, and while it has the same overall layout as the previous one, I can tell as soon as I walk in that the employees aren’t nearly as friendly. Sarge opted to wait at the entrance, and Bruno is keeping his distance.
