Chapter 2
Chapter Two
The rhythmic clatter of the train tracks provided a steady soundtrack to my thoughts as I gazed out the window, watching the coastline blur past. My mind wandered to Max, as it often did when I let my guard down. Closing my eyes, I could so clearly picture his slightly crooked smile, the way his green eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed. A familiar warmth spread through my chest, followed quickly by an ache that had become my constant companion over the years.
Percy tapped her fingers against the table between us. I opened my eyes to find her gaze focused intently on me. “So,” she began, drawing out the word in a way that made me immediately wary. “Let’s talk about the real reason we’re going shopping for this dress.”
I raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “My cousin’s wedding?”
Percy shook her head, a sly grin forming on her lips. “Nice try, but you know that’s not what I meant. Let’s talk about Max.”
I groaned, turning my attention back to the scenery as the train continued speeding past the small towns that dotted the coast. “What about Max?” I asked, refusing to meet my best friend’s eyes.
“What about Max?” Percy echoed, her voice thick with disbelief. “Han, come on. You’ve had a crush on him for as long as I’ve known you. And don’t even try to deny it.”
“I’m not denying anything,” I muttered, fiddling with the sleeve of my sweater. The soft yarn beneath my fingers grounded me as memories flooded back—Max teaching me to skip stones on the beach when I was twelve and he was seventeen, the way he’d hugged me fiercely after my high school graduation, how he’d danced with me at my brother’s shotgun wedding to a woman it turned out hadn’t been pregnant with his kid, Max’s hand warm on the small of my back as we’d swayed to some sappy love song from the eighties while commiserating about the mess my brother had gotten himself into. “But it’s not like it matters.”
Percy’s eyes narrowed. “Why wouldn’t it matter?”
“Because nothing’s ever going to happen.” I shrugged, trying to ignore the pang in my chest that thought brought forth. “We’ve known each other since I was a kid. Max doesn’t think of me like that.”
Percy leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with determination. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you. Have you seriously not noticed how he’s been acting around you lately?”
But that was who Max was … who he’d always been. Charming, flirty, the kind of guy who could have any guy or girl he wanted—and frequently did.
I’d spent years getting to know his type, and simply put, I wasn’t it.
“I can tell by your expression what you’re thinking,” Percy said, interrupting my thoughts, “so don’t even try to deny it. Some major sparks were flying between you two on Labor Day, Han—and don’t even get me started on New Year’s Eve.”
“What do you mean?”
Percy rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. You two were inseparable at his barbecue. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice how he kept finding excuses to touch you—he was brushing up against you in the pool like a cat in heat, and he kept putting his hand on your shoulder and arm whenever he’d laugh at one of your jokes.”
I felt a blush creeping up my neck, remembering how those touches had caused goosebumps to bloom on my skin. “He was just being friendly.”
“Friendly?” Percy scoffed. “Hannah, he literally growled at Jake when he tried to join your conversation. And don’t forget how he insisted on walking you to your car at the end of the night, even though it was parked right outside.”
My stomach fluttered at the memory of that night. I’d wanted so badly for him to lean in and kiss me goodnight when he’d walked me to my car, and I thought for a second there maybe he’d been considering it, but then my brother had called out to him from the porch and the spell—if there even was one—had been broken.
“And New Year’s Eve,” Percy continued, on a roll now. “He barely left your side all night. When the countdown started, he practically shoved past Melissa to get to you for the midnight kiss.”
“On the cheek,” I pointed out, though my skin tingled at the memory of his lips nearly brushing the corner of my mouth, lingering just a heartbeat too long.
“Right. Your cheek.” Percy raised a skeptical eyebrow my way. “Do you also deny he hasn’t been texting you almost every day since then? And now he’s volunteered to be your date for the wedding! Hannah, I’m telling you, Max is interested.”
I leaned back against my seat and stared out the window as the train passed through a stretch of wooded area. “Even if you’re right, I’m not Max’s type. He dates literal models and Instagram influencers.”
“Fuck that noise,” Percy said, her voice heated, as she reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “You, Hannah Carlisle, are smart, kind, and are drop-dead gorgeous. You’re also one of the funniest people I know. Max sees that—and more. Why else would he have kept that terrible clay pot you made him in eighth grade? It’s on the bookshelf in his bedroom, you know,” she finished, her expression smug.
I blinked in surprise. “Okay, there’s a lot to unpack there. Like, first and foremost, what were you doing in his bedroom?”
Percy cackled, her head thrown back. “Of everything I said, that’s what you picked up on?”
“I mean, yeah. I’ve barely ever been in his bedroom, and I’ve known the guy since he was twelve.”
Percy smirked. “Cool your jets. He let me use his bathroom when your brother stank up the one in the hallway.”
“Gross,” I said, scrunching up my nose in distaste. I was well acquainted with the damage my brother could do in a bathroom. It had taken him years to talk to a doctor about his issues. Crohn’s Disease was no joke.
Percy continued undaunted. “In case you’re wondering but are too chicken to ask, it’s on the shelf next to a picture of his parents, by the way. Face it, Han. The guy’s got it bad for you. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing, because you’re crazy. You’re seeing things that aren’t there, Perce,” I countered, though even as I spoke, I felt a tiny flicker of hope rising in my chest.
“And I think you’re being willfully obtuse,” she volleyed back with a glare. “This is Max we’re talking about. The guy who should have a Valentine’s Day date already lined up, so why doesn’t he?”
She raised a good point; it was a question I’d asked myself more than once since he’d volunteered to be my plus-one the week before. Max was a notorious playboy, and while you’d think he’d balk at spending a holiday like Valentine’s Day with someone lest they get the wrong impression and think their night together might lead to something permanent, for as long as I’d known him, he never seemed to sweat all that Hallmark bullshit. Why would he when he could simply pick up the phone and have someone to warm his bed within minutes?
Which begged the question—why was he available to spend the weekend with me?
Could Percy be right?
“I don’t know,” I hedged.
She leaned forward, her expression turning serious. “Listen, I know you’ve had feelings for him for a long time, and I get that it’s easier just to push them aside and assume nothing will happen. But maybe it’s time to stop doing that. Maybe this is your chance to see if there’s something more there.”
I stared at Percy, my thoughts conflicted. I wanted to believe she was right, that Max’s offer was more than just an act of kindness. But the fear of getting my hopes up, of being hurt, kept me from fully letting go. I’d spent years convincing myself that Max would never see me as anything other than his best friend’s little sister.
Changing that narrative at this point felt dangerous.
The train slowed as we approached another station, and Percy glanced out the window, then back at me. “All I’m saying is, keep an open mind. This whole fake dating thing could be your chance to test the waters. See if there’s something real there.”
I didn’t respond immediately, my mind whirring with possibilities, and as the train pulled into Boston’s North Station a few minutes later, Percy gave me a nudge. “Let’s go get you a dress that’s going to knock Max’s socks off.”
I shifted uncomfortably as I followed Percy into the high-end boutique, the click of my best friend’s heels on the polished floors echoing loudly. The store was as intimidating as it was beautiful, with high ceilings, soft golden lights, and racks of gowns that shimmered like something out of a movie set. The whole place smelled faintly of roses and expensive perfume as the sounds of classical music played softly in the background, the aesthetic a far cry from the familiar shops and big box stores I frequented on the North Shore.
I tugged at the sleeves of my sweater, feeling distinctly out of place. It wasn’t just the luxury of the boutique that made me feel self-conscious—it was the nagging worry in the back of my mind. Places like this didn’t usually cater to women who looked like me. Most of the stores Percy frequently dragged me into had racks lined with size two dresses, maybe a six, and I was skeptical this place would be any different. I was already bracing myself for the awkward moment when the sales associate would tell me they didn’t carry anything that would fit.
“You sure we’re in the right place?” I whispered to Percy, who was practically buzzing with excitement.
“Absolutely,” she said as she gazed at the racks of dresses like a kid in a candy store. “If you’re going to show up at Melody’s wedding on Max Bennett’s arm, you need to look like a goddess, and this is the place to make that happen.”
I sighed, trying to muster up the same level of enthusiasm as my best friend. The gowns were stunning—flowing fabrics in every shade imaginable, with intricate beading, sequins, and embroidery that shimmered in the soft light—but I doubted anything here would make me feel like a goddess. Maybe a sausage or that fertility goddess, Venus of Willendorf. The short round one you saw frequently in yoga studios and the like.
“I don’t know about this,” I muttered, crossing my arms as I eyed the gowns. “Half of these look like they cost more than my car payment.”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Percy teased. “And even if they do, you deserve to splurge a little. Why else would you work so much overtime if not to enjoy the fruits of your labor?” Percy giggled. “Haha. You see what I did there?”
I couldn’t help but grin at her pun. “It’s called saving for retirement, Perce. Maybe you should try it sometime.”
She physically waved the suggestion away. “Nope. I’m going to marry a rich old man who’ll leave me all his money.”
“You say that, but what I really hear is you’re going to need to move in with me when you’re fifty and have run out of money.”
“Oh ye of little faith,” Percy clucked, brightening when she spied a cocktail dress that looked like it was made up of millions of colorful fish scales.
I grimaced as my gaze swept over the dresses lined up alongside it. “I just don’t think I’m fancy enough for this place,” I muttered, tugging at the hem of my sweater again. “Can’t we just go to the mall?”
Percy gasped dramatically, clutching her chest as if she’d been mortally wounded. “Hannah Carlisle, I did not brave the train just to take you to a mall. We’re finding you the perfect gown, and we’re finding it here.”
Before I could protest any further, a tall, willowy sales associate glided toward us. Her sleek black dress hugged her lithe frame like it had been custom-made for her. Her hair was pulled into a low, tight bun, and her lips were painted a bold, dramatic red. Her gaze flicked slowly over me and Percy with cool detachment.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone polite but distant.
“We’re looking for a gown,” Percy said, stepping forward with confidence. “Something for a black-tie wedding. Valentine’s Day. Very romantic.”
The associate’s eyes drifted over me, her lips curving into a slight smirk. “For your friend or you?” she asked, her tone laced with subtle judgment as she took in my casual attire.
I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I wasn’t dressed for this kind of place, but I also knew the real reason I felt self-conscious. My size had always been a sore spot for me, especially in stores like this. They would inevitably guide me to a dark back corner where the “plus-size” clothes were kept—assuming they even had any to begin with.
“My friend,” Percy said, gesturing toward me, her tone firm. “She needs a gown that will knock her date’s socks off. He’s a man who … well, let’s just say she needs to make a statement.”
The sales associate’s demeanor subtly shifted from dubious to intrigued. “What kind of statement are we going for?”
Percy flashed a mischievous grin. “We need something that’ll make someone’s jaw drop. Hannah’s not the bride, but all eyes will definitely be on her when she walks in on Max’s arm. She needs a dress that says, ‘I’m the one who’s caught this handsome man’s attention.’”
The associate’s eyes swept over me again, appraising me in a way that made me feel like I was being measured—both literally and figuratively. Finally, she gave a tight nod and motioned for us to follow her. “This way,” she said.
The three of us weaved our way through the boutique until we reached a secluded area in the back where two racks of plus-size gowns were kept. My heart sank as my worst fears were confirmed. This part of the store was darker and quieter, and the gowns were less visible than their counterparts at the front. It felt like a confirmation of what I’d always feared … that I—and those who looked like me—was something to be hidden away, not fit for the finer things in life.
“I’m Marjorie, by the way,” the woman informed us as she pulled a deep purple satin gown with a plunging neckline off one rack and hung it on an empty bar behind the dressing room curtain. “Let’s start with that one,” she said before grabbing a second dress, this one an onyx silk bias-cut gown. “And these, too,” she added, hanging a gold sequined number and a shimmering silver dress with an open back alongside the first two options.
I stared at the dresses, my stomach sinking even lower. “I don’t know about this,” I said, eyeing the plunging necklines and daring cuts. All I could think about was how my body would be tumbling out of these gowns in all the wrong ways.
“Trust the process,” Percy said, practically bouncing with excitement as she popped the cork on a bottle of champagne and handed me a glass. “We’re just getting started.”
I took a hesitant sip, feeling the bubbles tickle my nose. “Remind me again, how did you even find this place?”
“Instagram,” Percy said with a shrug. “I’ve been following them for ages. Their stuff is incredible, and you’re going to look amazing.”
Despite her assurances, I wasn’t convinced, but I took another sip of champagne and headed to the dressing room. It was massive—bigger even than my bedroom—with floor-to-ceiling mirrors and a plush sofa. Still, I couldn’t help but feel like an imposter as I slipped out of my jeans and sweater and into the first dress. The fabric was soft and luxurious, but when I zipped it up and turned to face the mirror, my stomach sank even lower.
The purple dress clung to my body in all the wrong ways. Its plunging neckline made me feel exposed, and all I could see was how it emphasized the roundness of my stomach and the width of my hips. I frowned, tugging at the fabric as I stepped out of the fitting room and into the main space.
Percy’s eyes widened. “No.”
“Agreed,” I said, looking at myself again in a three-way mirror.
“That’s definitely not the one,” Percy said firmly, shaking her head. “Next.”
I sighed and retreated to the fitting room, peeling off the gown and attempting to slip on the onyx one. It wouldn’t even go down over my breasts. Discouraged, I yanked it roughly off over my head and tossed it down onto the floor. Feeling immediately guilty for treating such a delicate garment like garbage, I quickly bent down and hung it back on its hanger.
Next, I slipped into the gold sequined gown. It was … a lot. Too much, in fact. The sequins sparkled so brightly under the lights that they practically blinded me. I felt like she belonged in an 80s-era Las Vegas chorus line.
Before I could fully step into the lounge where Percy sat waiting, she hollered out an emphatic, “Next!”
The silver dress was slightly better, but when I stood in front of the mirror, I still didn’t feel like myself. The open back was elegant, but when I caught sight of the red welts where my bra had been digging into my skin, my stomach churned. I couldn’t wear a bra with this dress, but going braless wasn’t an option, either. I sank down onto the bench next to Percy, rubbing my temples. “This is hopeless.”
“Don’t give up yet,” she said, pouring us both more champagne. “We’re just warming up.”
As if on cue, Marjorie returned with another gown draped over her arm. This one immediately looked different from the others—a structured forest green with delicate cap sleeves and a plunging neckline. It was elegant and understated but had an undeniably sexy allure. It also, apparently, had pockets. “Try this,” she said, her voice softer now, almost encouraging.
I hesitated for a moment, then took the dress. I slipped into it, the fabric gliding against my skin like water. When I zipped it up and turned to face the mirror, I froze.
It was perfect.
It hugged my curves in all the right places. The neckline accentuated my breasts, making them look full and voluptuous without being too revealing. The cut of the fabric minimized the roundness of my belly while emphasizing the hourglass shape of my figure, the skirt cascading over my hips in a way that felt celebratory instead of condemning.
In this dress, I felt like my body was something to be appreciated, not disguised.
Percy’s gasp echoed those thoughts. “Oh my God, Hannah. That’s it.”
I turned slowly in a circle, looking at myself from every angle. For the first time all day, I didn’t feel like an imposter. I felt … beautiful.
Marjorie nodded in approval. “It’s like that dress was made for you.”
I blinked back tears at my reflection, my heart fluttering with a strange mix of excitement and disbelief. I bit my lip, turning to Percy. “Do you think Max will like it?”
Percy grinned, raising her glass of champagne in salute. “Honey, when he sees you in that dress, Max isn’t going to know what hit him. No one will.”
My stomach flipped at the thought. Maybe Percy was right. Perhaps this was my chance to step out of my comfort zone and show Max (and myself) that I could be more—more daring, more desirable.
I turned back to the mirror, smoothing my hands over the fabric with a small smile. “Okay. I’ll take it.” It was going to set me back hundreds of dollars, but suddenly, the cost felt well worth it.
Percy clapped her hands together in triumph. “Yay! I’m so excited for you!”
I laughed, clinking my glass against Percy’s. And as I sipped my champagne, I couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe this wedding and my fake date with Max were going to be more than I bargained for—but in a good way.