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She laughs again, and my teeth grind.
“How long are you in town for?” she asks as I reach for the dress Kieran chose for me.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful. The colors and the cut are incredible, but I’m not sure it’s suitable for a funeral.
That’s precisely why you should wear it, a little voice says.
Grams would love it. It the exact kind of thing I’m sure she had in her mind for me when she wrote down her wishes.
But that doesn’t mean it’s going to be the one.
It looks like it’s going to be incredibly tight—unable-to-wear-underwear tight—and I refuse to go commando for Grams’ funeral. That’s just wrong.
Before stepping into the fabric, I have little choice but to lose my bra. But as I slide the dress straps over my shoulder, I discover that the garment has much more structure than I’d expected.
“Wow,” I breathe when I look up at myself in the mirror.
It isn’t zipped up yet, but even still, it does incredible things for my boobs.
Another reason I can’t wear it for a funeral.
The cowl neck is low, and the girls are very much high.
I’d probably give some of Grams' male friends a heart attack.
“I know this little place that you’d love,” the shameless woman continues. “Are you busy say…tonight?”
Anger, disbelief, and—I’ll admit it—an unhealthy dose of jealousy rush through me, and before I know what I’m doing, I’ve thrown the curtain back and stepped out of the dressing room I was hiding in.
Unsurprisingly, she doesn’t notice.
Kieran, however, turns his wide, shocked eyes on me.
“For such a big fan, it seems you’ve missed the most recent news about your favorite player,” I state bitterly.
It’s wrong. I should have kept myself hidden away and let her continue to make a fool of herself.
The thought of him taking her up on her offer shouldn’t bother me. It wouldn’t have in the past.
But the memory of him sliding a ring onto my finger only days ago is still too vivid. He told me that we would continue as if the rumors were true, that we’d deal with it all later.
He said that we had to play the game.
Well, here I am, making my winning move.
I take another step forward and hold my head high.
“You should probably go and message your boyfriend. Remind yourself he exists.”
Her mouth opens and closes as if she has something to say but can’t find the words.
“She’s right,” Kieran agrees, although she doesn’t immediately jump into action.
Instead, she stands there like a deer stuck in headlights until some kind of bell rings from out on the main shop floor. The second she hears that, she scurries away like her ass is on fire.
“Well, that was?—”
“Don’t,” I warn as he pushes from the couch and steps toward me, my face burning with embarrassment.