Slowly, I allow a tight smile. “No need to apologize. Take all the time you need.” Clearing my throat, I pull all the way back. “I’ve got to work on this file. Let me know if you need anything for the site.”
“Thank you.” She’s quiet and just as fast, she’s gone.
With the click of the door, my grip tightens over the brass dog on my desk, and I see myself slamming it against the wall or through the window. I don’t. It would only reinforce her hesitation.
I haven’t broken through her wall. As close as we got this weekend, as much as we shared...
I’m starting to doubt I ever will after that.
I’m pissed she’s still fighting me, and I’m pissed it feels like we’re back at the beginning, and I’m pissed at how much I care.
“Fuck it,” I growl, pushing off the desk. I don’t have time for this shit.
Dropping into my seat, I open the file I’ve been neglecting and get back to work.
* * *
Amy
Early afternoon, pictures taken, I dash out of Merritt, Hampton, and Donnelly as soon as professionally acceptable. I cross the river and head up Michigan, walking fast in the direction of Neiman’s. Fresh air, exercise, all of it is a relief from the adrenaline buzzing under my skin, twisting a pain behind my eyes, since talking to Marcus. I was honest. I had to be honest, but the anger in his eyes...
I need something to anchor me in this flood of emotions devastating my insides. My feelings are different from before. I don’t want to run, but I’m so afraid to stay. I’m afraid to love him, but I’m even more afraid of walking away.
He wants more, but I don’t know how to do more. I don’t understand more. Tell him if I need anything? I need everything. I need guarantees, an ironclad warranty, and that’s what terrifies me. Nobody can give that.
No, what I need is to get my feet back under me. I need to focus on concrete things, things I can control. Stepping into the bright store, I pause to take a deep breath. It smells like fabric and perfumes and cosmetics. Lights shine brightly and huge arrangements of spring flowers adorn the center tables.
Turning on my heel, I head for the evening gowns. The matter of the gala hasn’t come up again, but sifting through designer dresses is transportive.
I stop at Oscar de la Renta and examine a black, embroidered jewel-neck sleeveless gown. Turquoise elephants mix in between a white and turquoise modern design, and the slippery silk of the full skirt glides through my fingers.
A saleswoman immediately appears. “May I start a room for you?” She smiles, and I glance at her wearing a red silk sheath.
I don’t feel like changing clothes. “If you’ll hold this for me. I’m not going to try it on.”
“Of course. Size... two?”
“Yes.”
A strapless, scalloped gown with a high-low hem catches my eye, and I pause to consider it. Sweetheart neckline, dropped waist, sheer fabric...
“That’s one of Ken’s pre-fall picks,” the woman says, smiling.
Nodding, I continue on. “I wasn’t looking for floor-length.”
“Perhaps you’d like this red one? It’s another of Ken’s picks.”
She pulls out a gorgeous red silk faille dress, again with the high-low hem. A strapless, cat-ear bodice leads down to the billowing red silk skirt. Turning, layers of gathered silk in the back create the impression of a train. It’s voluminous. I can’t help smiling, as the tension drains away. F
ashion is clean. It’s easy. Concrete like numbers.
“I love it.”
She’s gleeful. “I knew you would. Shall I put it at the register?”
A moment’s pause, and I’ve decided. “Yes. If you would, put it on the Knight account and send it to my mother’s condo.”
“Oh, Miss Knight? Miss Amalie Knight?” Her eyes light as I nod. “Mrs. Knight told us you might be in. Is there anything else I can get for you? We have a wonderful selection of handbags and pumps to complete the look.”