Chapter 13
“Why don't you try this one?” Gina chirps, dumping another gown on the bed next to the colorful pile of dresses, all of which I've tried on in the last two hours.
Since I announced the celebratory dinner in my honor three days ago, my best friends have made it their life mission to find the perfect dress.
Every day since Monday, we've spent at least three hours looking through a selection of dresses.
I go to bed exhausted each night and wake up panicky the next morning because I still haven't found the dress that is ‘it’ for me.
I groan at the new dress in pastel yellow.
It looks great, but it isn't the one. I'm struggling to lower the zipper of the current sequin lilac dress I'm wearing because exhaustion has weakened my arms.
Gina notices my dilemma and hurries towards me, “Oh, let me help you with that!”
I turn my back to her and we struggle for a few minutes before the zipper cooperates. Once I'm out of the dress, I fling it away. “I never want to see that dress again! ”
Gina chuckles and I slice her with my eyes.
When I turn to face the full-length mirror in my room, I mentally berate myself.
How am I going to fit this body – my eyes rove over my breasts spilling from the cup of my black, sensible bra to my hips clad in black tights – into a worthy dress?
And how am I going to compete with the slender office girlies who seem to be Cole’s type, according to Gina’s magazine?
Most importantly, how did I agree to attend this nerve-wracking event in the first place?
One word – Cole. Somehow he'd snuck under my defenses in the elevator, weaseling a commitment out of me.
How am I supposed to show up and enjoy being the center of attention without my social anxiety kicking in?
Alas! The things men make us do! Shakespeare should've written a play with that title.
I shake my head, trying to displace the forlorn look on my face, when I hear the sound of running feet. Gina and I turn to the door in concern, wondering what could be chasing Merry this evening. A large garment bag enters the room first before Merry dashes in after it. What in the world?
“I found it! I found Dora’s dress!” Merry squeals with delight as Gina snatches the garment bag from her hand, also screaming with excitement. They begin to talk over each other in happy babble and I watch from my position in front of the mirror.
“The lengths I went through just to get you this dress!” Merry says in a warning tone, and I glance at the garment bag. My eye catches the AREVIL insignia.
“Wait, is that an AREVIL dress?” I screech, bolting from my position to get a closer look as Mary unzips the bag.
“Yes, it is. And you can thank me in cash. It costs me a sizable fortune to buy it from Alfie,” Merry says, concentrating on her task.
Alfie is Merry’s boyfriend, but he is also the most talented dress designer with a coveted clothing line called AREVIL .
Tears gather in my eyes. I've always secretly longed for an AREVIL design, but there’s never been an event appealing enough for me to wear it to.
“Thank you, Merry…” I sob, grabbing her hands before she can extract the killer dress I know will be waiting for us in the bag. I turn to Gina. “And you too, Gina. Thank you both.”
Gina pulls us into a hug, her watery eyes mirror mine.
The only person with a dry eye is Merry.
She has a will of steel and doesn't cry as easily as we do.
She pulls out of the embrace after a few minutes and says with gusto, “Now that the waterworks are out of the way, are you ready to see your dress?”
Two nights later, I reel with incredulity at my reflection in the mirror.
The AVERIL dress turned out to be a bottle-green strapless dress, quilted around the breasts, cinched at the waist, and then figure-fitting all the way to my ankles.
The quilted part of my dress is enhanced by the twinkling tiny beads that cover my chest.
My ears and wrists are not left out as a pair of crystal drop earrings twinkle on my ears, and two sets of matching bracelets.
Dark, smokey eyes complete my look, and my wavy, ebony hair is arranged into a messy bun at the top of my head.
Gina and Merry smile in satisfaction once they're done getting me set for the dinner party.
“Smashing!” Merry pronounces with a whistle.
“Stunning!” Gina agrees, causing me to chuckle shyly.
More people agree with Merry and Gina’s assessment as I slowly stride onto the rooftop terrace at Prime Universal Supermarkets, which has been transformed for the event.
The party is in full swing when I arrive, with soft pop music blasting from speakers and a smattering of disco lights hanging from stainless overhead rails.
Appreciative stares are thrown my way, accompanied by “Congratulations, Miss McLean.”
My entire body is abuzz with excitement and wracked with nerves. I manage polite smiles to the greetings I receive, but I’m at a loss for words to respond to. I've never been great at events like this. Somehow I always stick out like a sore thumb.
I haven’t made any new friends, so I'm the only loner without a group hanging around them.
Since I resumed work at Prime, my focus has been to prove myself.
It didn't leave much room for making friends.
A few of my team members approach me to say “Hi,” but they soon wander off to rejoin their group.
Halfway through the crowd, I pluck a champagne flute from a passing server.
Fighting the urge to down it at once, I clamp my lips over the edge of the glass and take small, cautious sips.
Bubbles trickle down my throat, and I lean beside a table supporting a tall plant, unsure of how to mingle with the guests and jealous to see Sally flourishing in making small talk.
I run my fingers across the back of my neck.
Since I got here, there's been a tingling sensation at the back of my neck.
I'd initially thought it was from all the attention I had been getting as I entered the terrace. But now, standing alone in a corner, concealed by the plant, I realize it’s one person watching me. And I can guess who that is.
Sweeping my eyes over the crowd, I search for him.
A jolt of electricity shoots through me when my eyes meet his.
My breath hitches in my throat at the deep pool of desire in his eyes.
Even from a distance, with a sea of people between us, I can feel the magnetic pull of his eyes.
It’s a struggle, but I finally break eye contact and my breath comes in short supply.
I fight the urge to fan myself, suddenly feeling very hot. As if the night couldn't get weird enough, Delores Stone materializes at my side from nowhere. Her metallic burgundy dress fits her like a glove, showcasing her slender body to the fullest.
“Well, well, well! Daddy’s little princess finally shows up. The belle of the ball,” she spits with malice.
I straighten my shoulders, composing myself instantly. “Hello, Delores. I'm guessing you're having fun?” I retort with a chilly smile on my lips.
She runs her eyes over me from bottom to top and grimaces. “Too bad they couldn't find someone better to model this dress on. The color and design do nothing for your bulging shape. Or maybe I can help.”
Before I can fathom what is happening, Delores empties her glass of champagne on the bodice of my dress with an “Oops!”
I jump back in disbelief a little too late, the cold liquid seeping through my dress to dampen my skin. A few eyes were looking our way, shock or confusion on their faces. I swallow my cry of outrage and flee from the scene with the memory of Delores’s satisfied smile haunting me.
I dash past guests, muttering a plethora of “Sorry, excuse me,” as I shove them aside to hasten my exit.
Once I get to the elevator, I begin to punch the button with my finger frantically, not stopping until the carriage arrives and I hop in. I'm about to let my guard down when someone else bursts into the elevator right before the doors swing closed.
My eyes widen in shock at the smoldering eyes pinning me to the mirrored wall.
“You! This always happens with you.” I screech, ready to pour out my anger on the one person to blame for my humiliation. Cole Prime.