Quadruplets Make Six

“They’ve got the cutest dresses. I actually hate going in there myself because they don’t come down to my size. I really think you should try it out.”

“I really appreciate it, but I think I’m done,” I said.

I started putting my clothes back on and gathering up the dresses that weren’t right for me. I hated shopping. I was quickly being reminded of why I never did it. I slung the clothes over my arm and opened the door, and I found the shopping attendant staring at her phone. She looked up at my with this pity-filled glance and my anger began to flare. Why was she still here? Why was she determined to make my shopping experience more miserable than it already was? Couldn’t she simply leave me alone?

“I think this dress would look stunning on you,” the woman said.

“Like I said, thank you. But I-”

I looked down at her phone and my eyes were hooked. On her phone was the most beautiful crimson red dress I had ever seen. It had a scooped neckline and three-quarter length sleeves that fluttered instead of clung. The cinched waistline was just underneath the breast pockets, giving the model in the picture a rounded chest without showcasing the stomach she had underneath. The crimson fabric of the dress molded lightly to her body, but didn’t cling. And it fell to her shins before breaking into a cute pair of flats.

It was the perfect dress.

“I’m telling you. You should really try that shop,” the woman said with a smile.

“Where is it?” I asked.

“It’s all the way across town. But it’s totally worth it. It says they have this dress in stock on their website. I could give them a call if you want me to. See if they can pull you one to the side?” she asked.

“No, no. That’s fine. Just… um… what’s the address for the place?”

Five minutes later I was in my car and headed across town. I kept my eyes peeled for the place and was lucky enough to find road parking in front of the store. It had a line out the door of women who looked like me, and a part of me was nervous. What if the dress wasn’t there by the time I could get into the store? My heart sank at the thought as I got out of my car. I went and stood in line, my hands wringing with nerves as I waited patiently to get inside. Throngs of women were coming out with bags dripping from their arms, and then it hit me.

I didn’t think to ask how much a dress like that would’ve cost me in the first place.

I finally got into the store and made a beeline for the dresses in the back. I rifled through them, looking for the one I saw on the website. I cased the entire place looking for it, and with each dress I passed by my heart sank a little deeper into my stomach.

Until a woman tapped me on the shoulder.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes?” I asked.

“There was a woman that called from a store across town. Said you might be looking for this?” she asked.

The woman held up the crimson red dress and I smiled.

“The lady wasn’t sure what size you were, so I pulled a few of them aside for you to try on,” the woman said.

“Thank you so much,” I said breathlessly. “Um… how much does this dress cost, though?”

“We’re having a sale today, so once the price is docked at the front desk, it’ll be around eighty dollars.”

It was a little more than I was willing to spend, which meant I wouldn’t be able to get the shoes I saw in the picture. But it was better than nothing. I smiled and took two dresses into the dressing room, trying them on and modeling them in the mirror. I couldn't believe it. I had two dresses that fit me perfectly. One was a little tighter, but showcased my chest more, and the other was a bit more comfortable, but was loose enough to where the fabric sashayed around my legs. I ended up going for the size up, because once I ate I’d feel like a balloon in the other one.

Then I went to the counter, paid, and went home so I could change.

It felt like preparing for my date took all day. Shopping, getting home, finding the right pair of shoes, and doing my hair and makeup took forever. Mozart was begging for attention and I was trying to keep him away from me so I wouldn't take mounds of cat hair to dinner on my dress. He was meowing and sliding through my legs, wrapping his tail around my ankles and begging for attention. I felt bad having to cast him out of my bathroom. He usually sat on the sink and watched me get ready in the mornings.

But this was different, and I needed to be able to pay attention.

Frustrated with my makeup, I took it all off. I couldn't get anything to look right, so I figured I was better off with none at all. I patted on some foundation, layered on the mascara, clapped my cheeks for some color, then threw on some lip-gloss. I pulled my hair back into a French twist and put on my shiniest jewelry to distract from my lack of makeup, then I grabbed my purse and headed out the door.

“I’ll be back soon, Mozart. Promise.”

Pulling up to Boka made my hands start to sweat. I hated that part of my body. I hated the fact that my palms would sweat whenever I was nervous. I sat in my car and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm my nerves before I went in. I was in a beautiful dress and feeling more confident than I had in years. It was time for me to start acting like it.

I walked into the restaurant and the hostess seemed to recognize who I was. She ushered me through the restaurant and over to a table with two comfortable-looking chairs. I saw Graham sitting there, with his fiery blue gaze and his strong jawline. He ran his eyes along my form as he stood, then came around to pull my chair out for me.