“Thanks, I appreciate it. Do I dare send my credit card info to Lydia?”
“God no, she’ll murder you. I’ll handle it. I was going to anyway as her graduation gift.”
“You’re amazing.’
“I know. Talk to you later.”
Everything is good. Now how to tell Bethany.
***
Bethany
It’s my second cup of coffee and the nine hundredth time I’ve told myself to send the text apologizing to Dante for being a brat last night. I even typed out a text, but I didn’t send it. I bring it up, stare at it, then hit send. My heart is starting to pound as seconds tick past. When my phone rings relief floods me, it’s Dante.
“Hi.” The word escapes my tight throat.
“You don’t have to apologize, sweetheart. Sexual frustration is a painful thing. I understand completely and I’m not mad. You know how you’re going shopping with Alicia and Lydia today?”
“I do, but how do you?”
“I talked to Alicia a little bit ago. How about while you’re shopping you buy some nice warm clothes to wear when we go to Madrid tomorrow? Is ten in the morning too early?”
My heartbeat is pounding in my ears. “We?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, of course not. Why are you all worried?”
“I was worried you would be mad I’m going because Che asked me to in order to make Alicia happy. Only that’s not why I’m going. I’m going because it’s exactly what I’ve wanted since I got you in my arms—you, me, no distractions, no responsibilities for days and nights.”
“I can’t imagine a better way to spend a week than in bed with you.”
“I’m holding you to that. I’ll bring condoms but I don’t trust myself to always have one. Are you on any birth control?”
“Yep, I started on the pill on Monday. It’s also an awesome pill that allows me to skip periods altogether. I keep taking it through the week when most women don’t and voila, no messy, painful period.”
“Sounds good to me. I have to go, sweetheart. I’ll see you tonight.”
“I can’t wait.” I really can’t.
***
Bethany
“Bethany, get your ass out here.”
“No, not unless you promise this is the last dress.” I’m serious. This is the twelfth dress I’ve tried on today. That’s the dresses, I lost count of tops, everything from blouses to casual tops. At least the bottoms weren’t so bad, four different slacks, two worked. I agreed to them in black, gray and a chocolate brown but no to tan and white. I don’t like skirts for work, so the nine different skirts were excessive as far as I’m concerned. I’ll admit I liked most of the dresses, though it was annoying not all of them worked either because of the way they were cut, or despite claiming to be plus size they totally weren’t. I’ve loved seven of the dresses, more than enough.
“You are such a brat. One more only, I promise.” I refuse to answer, hoping she’ll give in. “Dante will love this on you,” the witch says in a singsong voice.
I hate her. “Fine.” I unlock the d
oor, stepping out of the enormous changing room. Seriously, it’s huge. I think it’s bigger than my bedroom. I’m not vain, although this dress could push me to it. I know I look good in it. I also know it’s all the dress. Despite the plain appearance on the hanger, on me it’s anything but plain. It’s a long-sleeve sheath dress in red, yet it’s the construction that matters. From the outside it’s fine, rich silk; inside there is a shaping panel from my hips all the way up to my breasts. In this dress I’m chic, a word I never thought would fit me.
“You look so good!”
“I know. Give me the dress so we can get this over with.”