I’m standing in front of a gold-framed, full-length mirror in a deep red gown with a plunging V in the front and a high slit up the leg. It’s tight over my waist and stomach, and I can’t help thinking it might be my last time for a dress like this for a while.
“This dressing room is the size of my bedroom.” Lourdes leans forward. “I can’t believe they just let us back here.”
“Deacon called first.” I turn to the side, looking down my back. “I think I like the black one better.”
“Which one? You tried on three.”
“The one with the silver belt.”
“Ohh… yes. Super elegant.”
“Have you made your choice, Mrs. Dring?” My heart stops at her words, and Lourdes inhales a quiet hiss.
Pride, embarrassment, a little smug happiness warms my chest. I feel my cheeks warm, and I can’t help a smile. “Yes, I like this one.”
I motion to the floor-length black dress with the high slit on the leg.
“Ah, yes. The Carolina Herrera. Would you be needing shoes to complete the look?”
Lourdes and I exchange a glance, and she raises her brows like she does this all the time. “She’ll need some black heels, yes.”
“I’ll have our recommendations sent over from the shoe department. Do you know your size?”
Clearing my throat, I manage to answer. “Seven and a half narrow.”
“Very good.”
The elegant older woman leaves the dressing room, and as soon as the door closes, we explode into whispers.
“Mrs. Dring?” Lourdes leans forward.
“I am wearing my engagement ring…” Holding out my hand, I admire how the peach stone sparkles like a drop of fire on my hand in this light.
“Yeah, but no wedding band.”
“Maybe I left it at home?”
“I would never know. You haven’t slept on my couch once since you supposedly moved in with me.”
We straighten up in time for my fitting and finishing up my purchases for the party. The clerk helps me select a feathered mask to compliment the dress with sequins and silver accents. Then she offers to have it all shipped to Deacon’s penthouse, so I don’t have to carry heavy bags. I had no idea stores even did stuff like that.
“Longest shopping trip ever!” I cry as the wind pushes my hair around my head through the open windows.
I’ve got my feet on the dash and the music is blasting J’Lo’s “On the Floor.” Lourdes and I sing the Na-Na part at the top of our lungs. I’m trying to remember the last time I felt so happy and free.
“Oh, no.” My bestie turns the music down as we pull into her driveway, and I recognize Valeria’s Honda.
My happy-free feeling dims. “Why are you saying that?”
“She’s been calling for you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sitting up quickly, I trace my fingers through my wild hair, pulling it into a scrunchie.
“I kept forgetting.”
I’m not sure why we’re whispering. We’re both grown women. Lourdes puts the car in park, and we go into the house together.
“Carmie!” Sofia’s little voice echoes through the house. “I’ve missed you!”