24. Orion
— ? —
Orion
“Nothing fits right anymore.”
Gianna said it casually, sorting through her closet while Alex napped in the next room. But I heard the frustration underneath. The way her voice went flat when she held up a dress that had fit perfectly a year ago and now pulled in all the wrong places.
Her body had changed. Done incredible things, grown our son. But she was still getting used to it, still figuring out how to dress this new version of herself.
I didn’t offer to buy her things. That was the old me, throwing money at problems instead of actually listening. Instead, I asked a question.
“Would you want to go shopping together? Whenever you’re ready?”
She looked at me, surprised. “Together?”
“If you want. Or I can stay home with Alex and you can go alone. Whatever works.”
She thought about it for a moment. “Together could be nice.”
“Fair warning, I have no useful opinions about women’s clothing.”
“That’s fine. I don’t need opinions. I just need someone to hold my bag and tell me I look nice.”
“I can do that. I’m excellent at holding bags.” I paused. “And you always look nice. That part’s easy.”
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the flush creeping up her neck. Still got her. Even after everything, I could still make her blush.
So we went.
I took her to a boutique in Austin that did custom fittings.
The kind of place where they closed the store for you, brought champagne but only sparkling water for Gianna, who was still nursing, and let you try things on without pressure or judgment.
The kind of place I’d taken her once, early in our marriage, and she’d been so overwhelmed by the attention that she’d bought three things she didn’t even like just to escape.
This time was different.
I sat in a velvet chair near the fitting rooms and watched her emerge in outfit after outfit.
The saleswoman would hold up options; Gianna would consider them, reject some, try others.
She was decisive in a way she hadn’t been before.
Like she knew what she wanted now, even if she couldn’t always articulate it.
“What do you think?” She came out in a wrap dress that draped across her curves like it had been made for her.
I forgot how to speak for a second. Just sat there with my mouth slightly open like an idiot.
“You look incredible.” It was true. “But what matters is how you feel in it.”
“Orion. Your face is doing something.”
“My face is fine.”
“Your face is not fine. Your face looks like you just saw something life-changing.”
“I’m looking at you. Same thing.”
She turned back to the mirror quickly, but not before I saw her smile.
She turned to look at herself in the three-way mirror. I watched her face as she studied her reflection, the way her expression shifted from uncertainty to something softer. Something like acceptance.
“I like this one,” she said.
“Then get it.”
She tried on a dozen things total. Kept three.
One was a structured blazer that made her look like she could run a Fortune 500 company.
One was a pair of jeans that fit like they’d been tailored specifically for her new shape.
And one was a simple sundress, cotton and comfortable, the kind of thing she would have worn back before she married me.
It cost less than a nice dinner.
At the register, she reached for her own card. She had her own account, one she’d always kept in her own name.
I didn’t stop her.
Then she paused. Her hand hovering over her wallet.
“Actually,” she said slowly. “I want to use yours. If that’s okay. I want to remember that I can.”
Something loosened in my chest that I hadn’t known was tight. I excitedly handed her the black card without a word.
She signed the receipt. Looked at me with something new in her eyes. Something I hadn’t seen since before everything fell apart.
“I think I forgot that the money was ours,” she said. “Not yours.”
“It was always ours. I was just bad at making you feel that way.”
We walked out of the boutique with her bags and got in the truck. She was quiet for a moment, looking out the window at the Austin traffic.
“I want to go see my parents,” she said.
My hands tightened on the wheel. “Okay. I can stay with Alex while you-”
“No.” She turned to face me. “I want you to come with me.”
The last time I’d seen Malcolm and Clara Porter, I’d sat in their kitchen for two hours and listened. But going back there, facing them again, with her beside me instead of against me…
“Yes,” I said. “Of course. When do you want to go?”
“This weekend.”
“I’ll book the jet.”
“No.” Her voice was firm. “Coach. Middle seat.”
I looked at her like she’d asked me to walk to Georgia barefoot. “Gianna-”
“You heard me. Coach. Middle seat. The full experience.”
“The full experience includes a stranger’s elbow in my ribs for three hours.”
“Builds character.”
“My character is already built. It’s fully constructed. It doesn’t need additional elbow-based development.”
She was trying not to laugh. I could see it. “Consider it a test.”
“Of what?”
“Of whether you’re serious about this. About us.”
I held her gaze. “I’d sit in a middle seat every day for the rest of my life if that’s what it took.”
“That seems extreme.”
“I’m an extreme person. I thought you knew that about me.”
“I flew coach my whole life before I met you. My parents have never been on a private jet. If we’re doing this, really doing this, I want to do it the way I used to. The way they would. This is me showing a glimpse of my old life.”
A test. I recognized it for what it was. She needed to know I’d follow through. Needed to see me uncomfortable and choosing her anyway.
“Deal,” I said.