Chapter 24
twenty-four
I put my hands on my hips and stared at the dress laid out on my bed. It was prettier than it had any right to be—it was an elegant off-the-shoulder black dress with a full skirt that I wasn’t sure I would have picked out for myself, but was stunned to look at now.
I lifted it carefully, almost reverently, and held it against my chest. The fabric was soft and heavier than I expected. It was clearly from a high-end store, but I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything less from Hilary.
When she first suggested that she pick out a dress for me, I’d only said yes to get away from her, but now that I was actually looking at the dress—which had been delivered to my house without a note, but she did send me a text to let me know—I had to begrudgingly admit it looked good.
I shook my head, trying to convince myself. No. You’ll hate it the second you try it on. You’re imagining things.
I dropped it back onto the bed just for long enough to strip off my hoodie and leggings, then I pulled the dress on and looked in my full-length mirror.
Immediately, my stomach twisted—not with discomfort, but disbelief.
It fit. Every curve, every line of me, without being tight or showy.
The hem fell just the right length. The neckline wasn’t too high or too low. It was… perfect.
I turned slowly in front of the mirror, expecting the fatal flaw to appear. Nothing. I lifted my arms. Checked the back. The seams were smooth. The color complemented my skin. My chest rose and fell, trying to slow the beat of my heart. I wanted to hate it. I really did. But I couldn’t.
I was still staring at myself in the mirror when my door was thrown open. I jumped back, going to cover myself as if that would make the dress any less conspicuous. Ainsley walked into my room, looking at her phone.
“Hey, Clementine’s coming over to…” She trailed off as she looked up and saw what I was wearing. She blinked a few times, like she was struggling to process it.
“Does it look bad?” I asked hesitantly. I smoothed down the skirt, wondering if I’d somehow completely imagined how good I thought it looked. Maybe my opinion couldn’t be trusted and it was actually so awful that I could never wear it anywhere.
Was it bad that I was kind of hoping that was the case?
“It looks amazing!” Ainsley gushed. “Is it for the party?”
“Yeah,” I mumbled. I turned back to the mirror and ran my hands over the front of the dress again, smoothing it out. I cleared my throat. “Since I didn’t find one on the weekend and I didn’t want to re-wear the one from last year if I didn’t have to, I tried ordering this one online.”
Ainsley whistled and circled me, looking at it from all angles. She shook her head in disbelief.
“Imogen, it’s perfect,” she said.
I huffed out a quiet breath. “You’re biased.”
“I am absolutely not,” Ainsley said. “If it were ugly, I’d tell you. Immediately.”
I snorted. “Thanks.”
She stopped in front of me and tipped my chin up with one finger, forcing me to meet her eyes in the mirror. “Imogen. Look at yourself.”
I did. Really did this time. The way the fabric skimmed instead of clung.
The way my shoulders looked straighter, like I’d decided something just by standing there.
The way I didn’t look like I was borrowing someone else’s confidence—I looked like I might actually own a little of it. My stomach fluttered.
“I don’t know,” I said, because saying anything else felt dangerous. “It feels… like a lot.”
“For our birthday party?” she asked. “It feels exactly like enough.”
I glanced at her. She wasn’t teasing. She wasn’t exaggerating. She was looking at me the way she always did when she thought I was underestimating myself—which was often.
“Where did you get it again?” she asked, squinting at the tag peeking out at my side.
“Online,” I repeated, a little too quickly. I reached back and tucked the tag in, like that would settle it. “Just one of those boutique sites.”
As soon as she left, I collapsed back onto the bed. Lying to her felt stupid, but necessary. Ainsley couldn’t know I’d been talking to Dad or that Hilary had anything to do with this.
I picked up my phone and opened a new message thread with Dad.
Like always, the string of numbers at the top instead of his name made my heart twist with guilt, but I pushed the feeling deep down as I started to type.
It wasn’t wrong for me to want to stay in contact with my dad.
Sneaking around wasn’t ideal, but it was my only option, and I didn’t have to feel bad about it, not when my only other option was to never see him.
Imogen
Tell Hilary I got the dress sent to me and it looks perfect. I’ll be wearing it on Saturday night xx
I watched as the message sent and waited for the bubbles to appear to indicate that he was typing a response.
He was normally pretty quick to respond, but this time, he didn’t respond immediately.
I dropped the phone back on the bed and changed back into my regular clothes, taking care to hang the dress up carefully in my closet.
That gnawing feeling of guilt and disgust was back in my stomach as I kept looking at and thinking about where it had come from.
I hated to allow Hilary into any part of my life, even something as mundane as a birthday dress.
It felt like I was signing over for her to remain a presence in my life, to go from just my dad’s mistress to a possible step-mom. The thought made me want to throw up.
My phone dinged with a message back.
Dad
Sounds great! Can’t wait to see you x
I hugged the phone to my chest and took a deep breath. This was what I was doing it for. It wasn’t so that Hilary could have a presence in my life—it was so that Dad could. And once he came over on Saturday, everything would fall into place.