Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“Do you want to try this one?” Britt held up a slinky, silver, floor-length gown with a thigh-high split. “You’d look unbelievable in it.”
“Oh, you should, Jennifer.” Jif’s mom fingered the fabric gently. “Britt’s right, it would complement your coloring, and if Colt wears his navy-blue suit, you’ll be perfect.”
Jif gritted her teeth. Her mother’s insistence on using her given name certainly wasn’t the most difficult part of their relationship, but a little effort on her part could go a long way toward smoothing things over.
Grace had no trouble calling her son a diminutive of his name, but couldn’t manage hers.
“Colton has worn that suit the last three years straight; he should get something new this year.” Jif eyed the dress, and though her mother and Britt spoke the truth—it would look fantastic on her, as well as complement the blue and silver theme of the event—she frowned.
“I actually thought I’d wear my pink one. ”
“Which one?” Britt hung the dress back on the rack, then flipped through a few more.
“Not the mini, honey.” Her mother’s eyebrows knit together in an expression not quite a scowl, but still with the spirit of one. She would never do something so crass as frown. It might leave a wrinkle.
Jif didn’t want to fight with her mom. Not about her name, not about what she’d wear, not today, when she’d only invited her along on this shopping trip because Colton had convinced her to, saying it’d be good for her—though he didn’t clarify which her he meant.
Or, really, Colton had suggested it, and Jif, desperate to mend the residual friction between them, readily agreed, despite her misgivings.
“I thought I’d wear Jordan’s diamonds, too.”
“Ooh!” Britt squealed. “I’m so glad you’re finally wearing those. They’re beautiful, and perfect on you.”
“Jordan’s diamonds? Are you sure?” Grace shook her head. “I thought you said you were bringing your new boyfriend.”
“He’s not new, Mom. We’ve been together for a couple months now, and he won’t care.”
Grace hummed as she pulled another dress from the rack and held it up to Jif. “What about this one?”
Jif shook her head, exasperated. “Miles likes the pink one. I wore it to dinner last week and he...” She stopped, cheeks pinking at the memory of him pressing her up against the front door as he said goodnight, but while Britt shot her a sly, sideways grin, her mother’s head jerked up, and she narrowed her eyes.
“He what?”
“Nothing, Mom. He, uh, appreciated it.”
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?” Britt snorted, and Jif elbowed her. “Is stamina a side effect of all the gym time he’s putting in? When does he go back to work?”
Grace’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “No one will buy the cow...”
“Please don’t, Mom,” Jif interrupted. “Miles and I aren’t sleeping together, anyway, so you don’t have to worry about it.”
“You’re... not?” Britt’s eyebrows rose as she studied her friend.
Jif shook her head, sliding a quick glance at her mother.
“We’re taking it slow.”
Britt whistled. “First, you’re dating a guy who isn’t a football player. Now, you’re telling me Jif, how-do-you-think-this-dress-will-look-on-his-floor, Pritchard is abstaining?”
Jif’s cheeks heated, and she groaned, refusing to meet her mother’s penetrating gaze.
Britt glanced between them, then bit her lip. “Sorry.”
Jif shook her head and held a sea-green dress out to her friend. “Try this one. It complements your eyes, and Garrett will love the straps playing peekaboo with your tattoo.”
Britt blushed this time. The butterflies on her shoulder had been a bit of college fun, the kind you had after a few too many drinks and a dare.
Garrett’s inexplicable fascination with them had provided Jif and Britt with hours of conversational fodder, but Jif privately loved the way they’d become a metaphor for her best friend since meeting Garrett.
As Britt disappeared into the dressing room, Jif turned back to her mom. “We could find something in silver for you, then you and Colton could match,” she tried, hoping to salvage the day.
“Oh, no, no,” Grace pulled another dress and held it out to Jif. “I couldn’t. This is his event.”
“And mine.”
Grace arched an eyebrow.
“I mean, I did practically plan the whole thing.”
“Mm hm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jif caught her mother’s arm before she could choose another dress and pulled her to a settee.
Grace sank elegantly to the cushion. “What do you want me to say? If you’re co-hosting it with Colton, you should wear the silver and go with him. If you’re not, then wear whatever you want, bring whoever you want.”
“Miles isn’t a ‘whoever’.”
“Really? Then why haven’t I met him? Why hasn’t Colton?” She raised an eyebrow. “If you’re serious about him,” Grace laughed lightly, “then act like it. Maybe if you had, Jordan would have proposed before moving.”
Jif reeled back, stung. “I didn’t want to move to Cincinnati.”
“Sure.” Grace picked some lint from her sleeve. “If you say so.”
“I do.” Jif crossed her arms.
“Then why are you still wearing the jewelry he gave you? Why aren’t you wearing your new boyfriend’s?”
She didn’t use air quotes, but derision dripped from her voice at the title, and Jif wanted to strike back. She wanted to throw something in her mother’s face, some tangible symbol of her relationship with Miles, but she couldn’t.
Sure, he’d given her flowers and taken her to dinner.
He kept her favorite flavor of sparkling water in his fridge, and always ordered Thai food instead of Indian, and had never made her gag down a disgusting wine because he could afford to order the most expensive thing on the menu, but he hadn’t given her any gifts.
No jewelry, no new phone, no credit cards or even a gift certificate, all things previous boyfriends had given her. One even offered to sign the lease on her car, though the relationship didn’t last long enough for him to follow through.
And how could she explain to her mom the incredible, intimate importance of those intangible things? Signs Miles knew her.
“He hasn’t given me any.” She kept her words simple, hoping Grace would drop it.
“Why not?”
Jif groaned. “Because not everyone can afford a diamond necklace on the third date.”
“Can’t afford it or isn’t working?” she asked, her voice sharpening. “If he’s unemployed, do you really want to throw your life away on someone who won’t support you? Who can’t?”
A flicker of heat curled up Jif’s spine, and she let it ignite, slowly burning away her discretion. She didn’t want to fight with her mom, but for Miles, she would.
“He’s not unemployed, and in a few weeks, he’ll be able to go back to work. Besides,” she spat, “your husband didn’t exactly support you.”
“Jennifer Pritchard, that is enough.”
Jif took a sour sort of pride in her mother’s outrage, her self-righteous mask shattered, but a moment later, shame curled through her stomach, extinguishing her own anger.
The agony in her mother’s eyes wrenched Jif’s heart.
She’d never understand why, but her mom still grieved her divorce.
Wouldn’t marry again because she still believed—albeit foolishly—someday her father would come back.
Still, she couldn’t bring herself to apologize, so when her mother gathered her purse and stormed out of the shop, she didn’t stop her.
Just then, Britt swept out of the dressing room. “I love it!”
She twirled in front of the mirror and, as expected, the thin straps shone like climbing vines against the colorful butterflies on her shoulder blade.
Jif forced a smile. “Me, too.”