“Excuse me, a whole new wardrobe?” I say incredulously. “I don’t need a whole new wardrobe.”
“And yet you’re getting one,” he says with a shrug. Then he just walks away. Of course, the immaculate Carolina falls into step next to him, which leaves me trailing behind them like a sad, half-starved puppy.
“Anton…!” I hiss. But again, he ignores me.
“Why don’t you both take a seat?” Carolina suggests, gesturing to a huge, curved sofa that faces the dressing rooms. “I’ll bring out some options for your ‘friend.’”
She turns to me and gives me the once-over. For a moment, I’m insulted until I realize she’s trying to determine my size.
“Give me a moment.”
She disappears into the cavernous store and I’m left standing there, staring slack-jawed at Anton, who is making himself comfortable on the curved sofa like it’s his own damn living room.
“What the hell is this?” I demand, placing myself right in front of him.
“Is that a trick question?”
“I will not let you dress me up like I’m your little Barbie doll.”
“I’m not dressing you up.” He points at Carolina’s retreating form. “She is.”
“I want to go somewhere else. Somewhere… normal. Affordable.”
He rolls his eyes. “That’s not an option.”
“Because you say it is?”
“Precisely. You’re starting to get it. Now, pipe down and enjoy this.”
“I can’t enjoy it.”
“Why not?” he asks innocently.
“Because… because I’m not going to spend thousands of dollars on one piece of clothing, that’s why!”
“Then you don’t have to. I will.”
I groan. “I can’t let you spend this much money on my clothes.”
“Jesus. You’re always looking for a fight, aren’t you?”
I’m so tired at this point that I plonk myself down beside him. He gives me a little smile that suggests he knows he’s slowly wearing me down.
“You should have figured it out by now, Jessa,” he says. “I always get my way.”
I smile, but on the inside, my chest tightens. Is that a friendly little reminder? Or is it a serious warning? Had he said something similar to his wife before she died?
The crazy part is that, even as I worry, I hope and wish and pray that I can trust him. That what happened to Marina won’t happen to me.
That there’s a happy ending out there somewhere.
Even when I know that’s foolish, I can’t stop thinking it.
“Something wrong?” asks Anton.
I look away. “No. I was just wondering…”
“Yes?”