Page 32 of Malicious Marriage
CLOVER
“Are you sure about this?” My voice carries past the dressmaker and past the curtain to where Dean waits patiently on the other side to see me in the dress he’s acquired for me.
A few days ago, when he invited me to this gala, I said yes because it was the opportunity I needed to push him toward the wedding, and it was exciting. It wasn’t until he left that I realized I didn’t have a gala-worthy dress, and the only decent one I had was one he’d already seen me in. I spent most of the night in a panic trying to find a dress that looked expensive within my terrible budget.
Dean was my savior the next morning, texting me to tell me not to worry. He’d have a dressmaker waiting on the night of the gala with several dresses for me to choose from as anapologyfor inviting me to the gala so close to the event.
An apology.
What kind of man apologizes for something like that? He’s such an incredible gentleman.
After trying on four dresses, only one fit me well enough to be comfortable, and while the dressmaker never said anything,I could see it in her eyes. She’s not used to dressing people as big as me. In fact, I bet plus-sized women are never seen in her designs and it shows with how her smile doesn’t meet her eyes as she adjusts the fabric around my waist.
Maybe this is a mistake.
The longer this takes, the hotter I get. While the light blue dress is beautiful, it’s not my first choice. It calls so much attention to me when I’m very much a black and dark-color girl.
“Breathe in for me, dear,” the dressmaker says as she tightens the bodice once more.
“I am breathing in,” I say as warmth rushes to my cheeks. The dressmaker pauses and then she chuckles.
“Of course, my mistake.”
At least she’s polite about it. Shopping in department stores, I’m more used to women as skinny as my thigh telling me that they don’t carry my size while sneering at me like I’m dirt on their shoe. Wealth obviously makes people hide their judgments behind those smiles.
Well, mostly.
My uncle never hid his distaste for my size even as a child and his cruel comments spin around the forefront of my mind as I think about how to walk down those stairs on Dean’s arm and not make a fool of myself.
Dean Savoy. The most handsome man I’ve ever met, who’s so kind that he’s buying me a dress to show me off, and all I can think about is how to apply extra powder to my thighs so they don’t rub together.
“Alright, dear!” The dressmaker appears in front of me with a wide smile. “You’re done! I’d just be careful what you eat tonight as the adjustments I’ve made to the bodice are secure but…” She glances briefly down at my stomach. “I wouldn’t put it to the test, okay?”
I’m so speechless that she’s able to scoot right out of the dressing room before I can reply. Did she really just say that to me?
Turning, I face the mirror and press my hand to my chest to ease the rapid way my heart flies beneath my ribs. The dress is a gorgeous sky blue with silver gems weaving in an arc from the swell of my breasts down to my waist, where they scatter across the skirt of the dress like falling stars across a lit sky. It truly is a beautiful dress and Idolook beautiful.
So why do I feel like a frump squashed into something too beautiful for my fat frame and about to attend a sleepover of skinny college girls?
My face flushes hotter and hotter so I close my eyes and fan myself, fighting to keep tears of shame at bay. I shouldn’t be ashamed, and mostly, I’m not, but suddenly, the thought of being on display in front of so many people makes me feel sick.
Suddenly, cool air washes over me and I open my eyes. Dean stands in front of me with a soft smile, directing airflow from a handheld fan at me.
“Sorry, I should have knocked but it’s a curtain and I was worried when you didn’t come out after the dressmaker. You looked flushed. Are you alright?”
He’s looking at me so earnestly and I get the impression that if I told him the truth about the dressmaker, he would absolutely do something about it.
But causing strife isn’t worth it. I have to focus on why I’m here and who I’m doing this for.
“I’m okay.” I force a smile. “I was just contemplating the disaster of Dean Savoy walking down those stairs with a fat girl on his arm. Surely, you’ve got enough scandals to deal with!” It’s meant to be a joke, and I do my best to throw it out there as one, but Dean doesn’t laugh.
His gaze slowly moves down me, which makes my hot flush amp up by several degrees, and when his eyes return to mine, I’m about to melt.
“Honestly, your size has never crossed my mind other than in my quiet admiration of your beauty, Clover. And I’m not saying that just to appease you. What you look like doesn’t define you as a person, but it does define the people who treat you differently because of it. I think you look absolutely stunning and I ambeyondhonored that you will be on my arm as we walk down those stairs. I can’t think of anyone more beautiful who deserves to be shown to the world than you. And not just because you’re doing me a huge favor.” He leans closer, and to my utter shock, he presses a very light kiss to my hot cheek. “You are stunning, Clover. And everyone should see it.”
“Wow,” I gasp, unable to look him in the eye. “What a pep talk!”
And it works. A surge of renewed confidence warms my chest. By the time I apply the final dabs of makeup and head for the grand staircase in the hotel leading down to the gala, I feel amazing. Dean is right. I am beautiful, and at the very least, I need to make sure we sell this engagement to anyone who might question it. Once Dean gets what he wants, it’ll be much easier for me to get what I want.