The Agent #2
She came out of the dressing room, blushing and grinning, eager to receive our opinions. While I was quick to applaud each dress, my mother was quicker to critique it. With each one, she pouted her lips and pointed out some minuscule fault or flaw that no one would notice.
Isabelle’s enthusiastic smile grew dimmer and dimmer with every comment.
The bridal gods must have heard my silent prayers when her phone suddenly went off while Isabelle was changing and she had to step away to take the call.
When my sister walked out and saw only me standing there, her shoulders fell in relief. “How about this one?” She asked, giving me a small twirl.
The A-line torso, decorated in white fabric with glittering swirls of lace, hugged her slim torso and curved out at her hips into a long skirt.
More sparkling lace coated the ends of the skirt and spilled down from her torso, leaving a small touch of plain white satin in the middle.
Her arms and back were left bare, exposing her smooth caramel skin and the tiny angel wings on the back of her left shoulder.
“You look beautiful, Izzie,” I replied.
Isabelle looked down at her dress. “Do you really think so? You don’t think the cut is too low? Or my waist isn’t small enough for the emphasis of the skirt? Or that my tattoo is-”
Cutting my sister off, I grabbed her shoulders, pushed her up onto the podium and forced her to meet her gaze in the mirror. She instantly went silent at the sight.
I wrapped my arms around her waist and laid my chin on her shoulder. “You look beautiful, Izzie,” I repeated.
Her brows turned up and her eyes moistened at my words. “Yeah,” she murmured. “I guess I do.”
“Owen is going to pass out when he sees you walk down that aisle.”
Isabelle’s smile dimmed. “Yeah.”
“Hey,” I said as I turned her around to face me. “What’s wrong? I thought you were happy with him.”
“I am happy. It’s not him, I just…”
“Just…?”
“I wish my mom was able to see me walk down the aisle.”
“I know,” I whispered, giving her hands a squeeze.
Isabelle’s mother died from cancer when she was three years old. Despite being the spitting image of the woman, she had very few memories of her. But, from what she did remember, she told me her mother was a kind, bubbly woman.
And while she loved my mother, grew a similar bond with her, she still longed for the one who birthed her. She just didn’t like acknowledging it, fearing she’ll hurt my mother’s feelings. Not that anyone would ever fault her for the grief she’ll perpetually experience.
But, Isabelle has always been hard on herself. She’s always wanted to be perfect. And by her standards, she was still figuring out where grief fits into that image.
Isabelle let out a soft sniffle as she returned the tight squeeze.
“Don’t cry,” I told her. “She’ll be there. You may not be able to see her, but she will be.” I let go of one of her hands and wiped away some of the tears that escaped her eyes.
Her rainbow of a smile peeked out after the short rainfall, and she twirled back in front of the mirror. “I do love this one,” she mused. “It makes me look like a princess!”
“Then, we’re buying it!”
“But, Mom hasn’t seen it yet!”
“So? Who cares what she thinks?”
Isabelle grinned. “You’re a bad influence, you know that?”
“Of course! That’s why you love me.”
We shared a laugh as I gave her hands another soft squeeze.
With Isabelle’s wedding dress picked out, she immediately went on the hunt for my maid of honor dress. We browsed through the aisles of the champagne colored dresses for about a half hour before I found a simple off-the-shoulder dress to wear.
Starved after all the shopping, we headed to a local restaurant for lunch. Isabelle and I sat next to each other while my mother sat on the other side.
“One step closer to the big day,” my mother commented once we were settled with our drinks and appetizer. “Is Owen ready for it?”
Isabelle nodded. “He’s going suit shopping with his best man next weekend. And we are going for our cake testing next month. It’s so weird! I feel like everything’s happening so fast but slow at the same time.”
“It’s the anticipation. You spend so much time looking forward to something and once it comes, it flies by. Just wait till the day of your wedding. It goes by in the blink of an eye. Both of mine sure did.” Her gaze flicked to me. “Have you spoken to Justin, Simone?”
Here we go, I thought.
As much as she loved and adored Isabelle, she could never just let her have her moment. She always had to compare us somehow and convince herself her daughter lived up to her husband’s.
“Nope,” I answered.
“She’s on a solo self-discovery journey,” Isabelle tried to back me up.
“Isaac says he’s been walking around like a sick puppy since you rejected his proposal.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes.
Justin Hartford was the son of a tech guru in my step-father’s social circle.
We dated for almost a year before he decided to get on one knee in front of the huge crowd at his father’s company’s fall fundraising gala.
I liked him enough, but I had no intentions on marrying him.
Not because he wasn’t a good man, but he wasn’t good for me.
In the months leading to his proposal, he started echoing some of my mother’s thoughts about using my law degree and leaving the FBI.
He wasn’t a fan of the late hours and constant traveling.
He preferred having me home at a reasonable time, with enough down time to tend to him and accompany him to all his social gatherings.
Being a trophy to flaunt on his arm was far from what I wanted from life. And if he were paying attention, he would’ve known better than to propose in public and embarrass himself.
I opened my mouth to remind her I didn’t want to discuss it but, like always, she ignored me and kept talking.
“Isaac felt so bad when Justin told me he still has feelings for you. So, I gave him permission to set up a dinner for you two.”
“Wait, you did what?”
“Don’t make that face. You need to make amends. Since you two broke up, you’ve been spending all your time cooped up in that FBI office. You need to remember there’s more than evil out in the world. That there’s a man out there who loves you.”
“But, I don’t love him, Mom. Not like that. We’d just be wasting our time.”
“He’s a good man, Simone. He wants to settle down and start a family.”
“And that’s great. He deserves a woman who wants to do the same.”
“Simone, you’re thirty now. You need to start thinking about how you want the rest of your life to look. If you keep going on like this, you might get too comfortable spending time alone.”
“What if I already am?” I argued. I liked my routine. I liked my space. And most importantly, I liked my peace. While the thought of having someone around at night to hold and keep me warm was nice, I wasn’t willing to sacrifice my piece of mind over someone I didn’t truly connect with.
My mother inhaled a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure since we were out in public. “Justin is handsome, makes good money, and is helplessly in love with you. The least you can do is give him another chance.”
“I don’t have to do anything.”
“Well, arrangements have already been made. He’s already made dinner reservations for next Saturday at Cinderhouse. I know tension has been high between you two, so he agreed to forgo picking you up and is expecting you to meet him there.”
I threw my back against the seat and shook my head.
I wished I could say I couldn’t believe this lady, but this wasn’t the first time she’s set me up on dinners against my will.
Every time I was single, she was trying to play matchmaker with me and some heir to a multimillion dollar company.
Even before Isabelle became engaged to one, it was always a goal of my mother’s to marry her daughter off to someone wealthy and powerful.
She just failed to see it was never a goal of mine.
“Cheer up,” Isabelle whispered as she nudged me. “A night out with free food and drinks is never a bad thing.”
I smirked. “And what do you know about those?”
“Mind your business.”
Giggling, I thanked the heavens that I had Isabelle by my side.
I opened my mouth to tease her more, but the uncanny shiver ran down my spine again. The hairs on the back of my neck rose like a cat arched in fright.
Confused by the sudden feeling, I glanced around the crowded restaurant and only saw the cheerful expressions of the other patrons in the room. I turned my gaze toward the window near where we were sitting.
Some pedestrians strolled down the street. Cars rolled by in light traffic. A few service vans sat parked by the other establishments across the street. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Yet, I couldn’t shake the eerie feeling of eyes on me.