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Brandon crosses the room in three long strides, his hands settling on my waist. “Relax.” His thumbs trace a gentle circle against my hip. “Breathe.”
“I am breathing,” I say, but even I can hear the tightness in my voice, the way the words come out clipped and short.
“No, you’re not.” His hands float to my ribcage. “You’re holding everything so tight I can feel your muscles trembling from here.”
“I’m fi?—”
His lips seize mine, swallowing my protests. The kiss is demanding, and he pulls me flush against him, his mouth continuing its welcome assault on mine.
Lightheadedness takes over, but I can’t tell if it’s from the lack of air or the way his tongue sweeps into my mouth, stealing what little breath I have left.
I hold onto his shirt for dear life as the room starts to spin, and black spots dance behind my closed eyes. Just when I think I might actually pass out, Brandon breaks the kiss.
“Breathe, Naomi.” He doesn’t go far, his forehead resting against mine as we both pant for air. “Just breathe.”
So I do. I take a deep breath, and then another, and another. And as my lungs expand, it’s strange. The dress moves with me, the silk flowing over my skin like water.
I inhale again. Deeper this time. No pinching. No tightness. No constricting.
I’ve spent years measuring my worth in sizes, in the way fabric clings or cuts too deep. But this? This is just… me.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” He spins me to face the mirror. “See what I see?”
I stare at my reflection, but for once, I’m not counting flaws or cataloging imperfections.
“You’re beautiful.” His hands rest warm and steady on my hips. “And you deserve clothes that celebrate that, not punish you for existing.”
I look good. Happy.
And with Brandon by my side. Safe. Cherished. Beautiful.
“So.” His eyes capture mine in the mirror. “What’s the verdict on the dress?”
“I like it.”
His smile is radiant. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I smile just as much. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, cupcake.” He kisses my temple and resumes to his place on the couch. “Marina. You can come back in.”
She returns with an armful of dresses, skirts, and blouses in a rainbow of colors, adding them to the rack, each piece more beautiful than the last.
“Let’s try the next one, shall we?” She hands me a deep green wrap dress, the fabric so soft it feels like a whisper against my skin.
I disappear back into the changing room, shedding the burgundy dress and sliding into the green. It hugs my curves in all the right places, the neckline dipping just low enough to be alluring without making me feel exposed.
When I step out, Brandon’s eyes follow with an exaggerated level of awe, like a dog watching its owner make dinner. “Wow.”
I can’t help but smile. “You like it?”
“I love it.” He stands, circling me slowly. “You look incredible.”
Marina nods approvingly. “The color is perfect for your complexion. And the fit is exquisite.”
We continue like this for what feels like hours, Marina bringing in piece after piece, each one more stunning than the last. Flowy skirts, soft sweaters, jeans that hug my hips without suffocating me.