17. Effie
17
EFFIE
I rritation rolls through me as the fake laugh of the shop assistant fills the air.
A huge Chiefs fan…I can’t help but roll my eyes.
I bet she’s never seen a full game in her life.
She’s just a fan of the players and the lavish life they’d be able to provide her if one were stupid enough to fall for her moves.
As much as I want to think that Kieran isn’t one of them, I’ve had firsthand experience of the kind of women he goes for.
My best friend doesn’t always have the best taste.
She laughs again, and my teeth grind.
“How long are you in town for?” she asks as I reach for the dress Kieran chose for me.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful. The colors and the cut are incredible, but I’m not sure it’s suitable for a funeral.
That’s precisely why you should wear it , a little voice says.
Grams would love it. It the exact kind of thing I’m sure she had in her mind for me when she wrote down her wishes.
But that doesn’t mean it’s going to be the one.
It looks like it’s going to be incredibly tight—unable-to-wear-underwear tight—and I refuse to go commando for Grams’ funeral. That’s just wrong.
Before stepping into the fabric, I have little choice but to lose my bra. But as I slide the dress straps over my shoulder, I discover that the garment has much more structure than I’d expected.
“Wow,” I breathe when I look up at myself in the mirror.
It isn’t zipped up yet, but even still, it does incredible things for my boobs.
Another reason I can’t wear it for a funeral.
The cowl neck is low, and the girls are very much high.
I’d probably give some of Grams' male friends a heart attack.
“I know this little place that you’d love,” the shameless woman continues. “Are you busy say…tonight?”
Anger, disbelief, and—I’ll admit it—an unhealthy dose of jealousy rush through me, and before I know what I’m doing, I’ve thrown the curtain back and stepped out of the dressing room I was hiding in.
Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t notice.
Kieran, however, turns his wide, shocked eyes on me.
“For such a big fan, it seems you’ve missed the most recent news about your favorite player,” I state bitterly.
It’s wrong. I should have kept myself hidden away and let her continue to make a fool of herself.
The thought of him taking her up on her offer shouldn’t bother me. It wouldn’t have in the past.
But the memory of him sliding a ring onto my finger only days ago is still too vivid. He told me that we would continue as if the rumors were true, that we’d deal with it all later.
He said that we had to play the game.
Well, here I am, making my winning move.
I take another step forward and hold my head high.
“You should probably go and message your boyfriend. Remind yourself he exists.”
Her mouth opens and closes as if she has something to say but can’t find the words.
“She’s right,” Kieran agrees, although she doesn’t immediately jump into action.
Instead, she stands there like a deer stuck in headlights until some kind of bell rings from out on the main shop floor. The second she hears that, she scurries away like her ass is on fire.
“Well, that was?—”
“Don’t,” I warn as he pushes from the couch and steps toward me, my face burning with embarrassment.
“Who knew my little Lucky could be so possessive?”
“I mean it, Kieran. Don’t.”
“She was?—”
“Beautiful and exactly your type?” I ask coldly.
He shakes his head.
“Nothing. She was nothing.”
“Let’s just forget the whole thing,” I say, attempting to wave him off.
“Effie, I didn’t even really see her. I don’t know what color her hair was, or what she was wearing.”
“So? None of that matters.”
He studies me closely before his eyes drop to the dress I’m wrapped in.
“You, however...” He moves closer. “This dress was made for you.”
When his eyes return to mine, I find something in them that I don’t think I’ve ever seen directed at me before. Something that makes my stomach knot and my thighs clench.
“I-it’s not done up,” I blurt, saying the first thing that comes into my mind.
Breaking eye contact with him, I spin around, giving him my back.
His breath catches, and my eyes jump to the mirror in front of me.
I find him staring down at my exposed skin like it’s something he’s never seen before, and my heart rate picks up as I wait for him to do something.
Anything.
“Kieran,” I whisper.
“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath, reaching for the zipper that sits just above my ass.
I suck in a breath as he slowly pulls it up, and I don’t release it until it gets stuck at my waist.
“It’s fine. Leave it th—” His eyes lift, meeting mine in the mirror, and my words cut off.
His face is set with determination, stopping me from saying another word.
Returning to the task, he pinches the fabric tighter around my waist and tugs harder.
The zipper moves, and I breathe a sigh of relief—until he tucks two fingers under it so he doesn’t catch my skin.
A gentle shiver goes through my body as goosebumps cover my skin and my nipples pebble behind the light fabric of the dress.
Thank fuck for the built-in bra.
“There,” he says once it’s fully fastened. “What do you think?”
He takes in my reflection; I don’t look down, though.
I can’t.
I’m too enthralled watching him.
When I don’t immediately respond, he looks up, and our eyes collide in the mirror again.
“You have to buy this dress,” he states after clearing his throat.
“Um…” Ripping my eyes from his, I finally look down. “I can’t wear this to a funeral.” I balk.
“Sure you can.”
Spinning around, I look up at my best friend.
“I absolutely cannot. It’s in a church, Kieran.”
“God won’t argue about this,” he says, his eyes dropping to my chest.
“Oh my god,” I mutter, covering my face with my hands.
He moves closer, his breath rushing over my skin before his fingers curl around my wrists.
Tugging my arms behind my back, he holds my hands captive before ducking down and staring into my eyes.
The move makes my breath catch and my heart slam against my ribs.
“You’re buying this dress even if you don’t wear it for the funeral. Hell, even if you never wear it outside the house. It was made for you.”
My chest heaves as he gives me a look that dares me to argue. I want to, but the words dry up on my tongue.
His grip on my wrists tightens, and he moves closer. So close that my breasts almost brush his chest when I breathe.
“Kieran?” I whisper, praying that he moves closer and steps back at the same time.
We’re a second away from doing something we’ve never done before, something we’re likely to regret, when a voice suddenly shatters the moment.
“Is there anything I can help you with?”
Kieran jumps back as if burned, and we both turn—I’m sure looking guilty as hell—at the new assistant.
She’s older and looks much less star-struck and more shocked that she’s found us in what was about to be a compromising position.
“She needed help with the zipper,” Kieran states, and unlike a few moments before, his voice is emotionless.
“Right, well, I’m here now to help where needed. If you can go and sit down…”
Kieran takes a step back and coldness rushes over me.
“Of course.”
The assistant watches him go before turning to me with a disappointed expression.
What the hell did I do?
With a tut and a shake of her head, she disappears, pulling the curtain closed behind her.
I stand there for a minute, trying to understand what just happened.
Was…was Kieran going to kiss me?
No. Surely not.
That assistant just gave him ideas, and then he had my boobs all up in his face.
It was because of her. It had nothing to do with me.
Well, the fact he can’t do anything with her has a lot to do with me.
The guilt I felt when he first arrived and didn’t know what I’d done returns.
It doesn’t matter that he understands and is fully on board.
It’s still my fault he couldn’t take her up on her offer. He could be heading out tonight and enjoying himself. But because of me, he’ll be at Grams’, probably holding me while I sob on him. Again.
Spinning around, I stare at myself again in the mirror.
He isn’t wrong. The dress really is incredible.
Reaching behind me, it takes a little work to pull the zipper down, especially over the bump of fabric that caused Kieran some trouble, but I manage it and let it float to the floor around my ankles.
The price tag catches my eye as I bend down to get it, and I gasp. “Holy cow.”
Feeling a little disappointed that it’s not going to be mine after all, I try on the final two dresses, and without showing Kieran, I decide to go for the first one I saw when we walked in. Isn’t that always the way?
It’s beautiful, fits me well, and, most importantly, it covers everything it needs to cover. It’s both funeral-worthy and something I’m sure Grams would have appreciated—even if she would be longing for Kieran’s choice.
“Okay, let’s go,” I say in a rush as I pull the curtain back. “This is the one,” I say quickly, thrusting the dress at Kieran before unloading the others onto the judgy assistant.
“I thought you were going to show me,” Kieran sulks as if that moment between us didn’t happen. “And what about my one?”
“It’s not right,” I shoot over my shoulder as I walk away from the dress.
“But…”
I don’t hear what he says after that; I’m too busy trying to get away from him so I don’t have to look into his eyes.
That dress...the way he looked at me in it...that moment between us...it was as exhilarating as it was terrifying.
Kieran is the most important person in my life.
I can’t risk that.
If I were to lose him—especially now—it would kill me.
He catches up to me at the register just as the assistant who hit on him awkwardly folds my dress and places it into a carrier bag.
“You need shoes and a purse for that, darling,” he says before wrapping his arm around my waist to prove a point. Not that the woman risks looking up.
“N-no, it’s okay. I have something at home,” I argue, just wanting this little trip to be over.
“Nonsense. My girl deserves better than that.”
I glance up at him to find him staring down at me with an intensity similar to inside the dressing room.
I don’t respond. Instead, I take the bag when it’s offered, duck away from his arm, and make a beeline for the exit.
The dress I didn’t choose taunts me on the way out, and the memory of how I felt when he looked at me in it hits full force. But I lock it down.
It’s better left in the past where it belongs.