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I’ve nevernotwanted a close friendship with other women before. I have and do work with more than several women, but I can be a lot, and I try to hold back so as to not overwhelmother people. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have cared how extra I was, but something I’ve realized over the past month is that all of those subtle digs Stewart made about my loud laugh and tendency to speak without being spoken to first did indeed dig into my subconscious. I hate that I allowed myself to take his hateful words and find truth in them. Let them poison my opinion of myself.
Watching Bryce and Poppy be so open and free with one another in such an obviously close friendship makes me undeniably jealous. I want that. Badly.
“I think I’d like to come to one of the classes,” I blurt out.
Both women pause, gazes shooting to me. Poppy is the first to break free of her surprise and clap excitedly. Bryce’s eyes tighten as she takes me in, almost as if she’s searching for the thoughts I was just thinking. The softening of her stare a beat later makes me swallow, hating that I wear my emotions so obviously for everyone to see.
“That would be amazing!” Poppy cheers.
My cheeks warm as her excitement snags the attention of a few of the people walking by. The jealousy ebbs away, replaced with a blooming sensation of excitement.
“I doubt I’ll do well, but I’m down to give it a chance.”
“It took me three weeks to get the grasp of a simple back bend, so I wouldn’t worry about your skill. You’d be surprised how long it can take to nail a move,” Bryce says.
My smile is a silent thank you. She tips her chin in reply.
Poppy takes a step toward me while slipping her hand into the pocket on the thigh of her leggings. “Why don’t we exchange numbers, and I’ll send you all of the sign-up info? You can let me know what day you want to come, and we can go from there. Are you living in town?”
I shrug my purse from my shoulder and pull my phone free, exchanging it for hers. “I’m by the school. It’s just a rental fornow, but I figured in town would have been better. This province is still new to me.”
“You’re not from Alberta?” Bryce asks.
Once I finish adding my number to Poppy’s phone, I hand it back and take Bryce’s. Poppy hands my phone to her friend a beat later.
“I’m from BC. Vancouver, specifically.”
“And you moved from there tohere?Why?” Poppy scrunches her nose, darting her eyes to the snow piles lining the street.
“Would you believe me if I said I preferred the prairies?”
Bryce snorts a laugh. “Not at all.”
“There’s a story behind this move, isn’t there?” Poppy asks.
With a tired smile, I swap phones with Bryce. “One for another day.”
I’m grateful when they both accept that and let it go. I don’t want to ruin a good meeting with the mention of Stewart. He took too many things from me to allow him to take this too.
“Well, just shoot me a text whenever you want, okay? We can figure out your pole class and maybe a drink out or something?” Hope glimmers in Poppy’s eyes, and it makes my smile grow.
“I’d like that.”
The two friends say goodbye a moment later, and I watch them disappear into the crowd before continuing toward the bridal shop. A spark of excitement has my steps moving a half beat quicker than before.
4
ANNALISE
As if I’vehad my mouth shoved full of all this tulle and lace, my tongue grows dry, sticking to the roof of my mouth. The bridal shop is far more stocked than I was anticipating, and one look at the rows and rows of dresses has me fighting to keep from spinning back around.
I can hear the quick tapping of heels on the floor as the camera facing the door announces my arrival. And five minutes later, I blow out a long, strained breath when I’m left alone to try on the five dresses the associate deemed appropriate for my body and style.
The older, dainty woman who owns the shop is sweet and kind, but the longer I stand here, basking in the reminder of everything I’ve lost in the past few weeks, the harder it’s going to be to not lose the effort to do what I’m here to do.
A heavy, pastel pink curtain acts as a barrier for the dressing room, and it brushes my back when I spin to face the dresses hung on a rod. According to Braxton, the bride of this wedding is a real stickler when it comes to her black-tie theme, so every dress hung before me is what I think is the most appropriate. The longest of the five dresses has a slit that travels to nearly mid-thigh, and the shortest will hardly brush my knees at myfive-six height. I’m not awfully tall, so I don’t even want to know how short you’d have to be to not flash a bit of panty in that dress.
I shrug out of my clothes and start with the safest option—a shiny black dress with a sweetheart neckline and a laced bottom hem that should sit around my mid-shin. A ball sticks in my throat when I tug it over my chest and let it swoosh along my legs. The mirror is directly across from me, and I grow stiff as I take myself in.
