Page 15 of The Rookie's Sister

“Emma, stop thinking about what Xavier or anyone else will think. You’re a beautiful woman, inside and out. Own it. That confidence will outshine any dress.”

I take a deep breath and nod, bolstered by her pep talk. She’s right—the dress alone won’t transform me unless I carry myself like I belong.

We move to a section of more understated choices. I pause on an elegant lavender gown with a sheer overlay, its softness contrasting the previous bold options. Holly tilts her head thoughtfully.

“Try it. I have a good feeling about this one.”

The silk lining feels luxurious as I slip it on. The bodice fit like it was tailored for my curves. The sheer overlay drapes just right, showing a subtle hint of skin without being too revealing. I turn and gasp softly. The dress makes me feel graceful, feminine, and powerful. Holly’s eyes light up as she takes it in.

“Oh, Emma. Sweetie, that’s the one.”

I smooth my hands over the material, allowing myself to imagine walking into tomorrow night on Xavier’s arm. Heads turning. Eyes widening in appreciation. His voice is low in my ear as he leans in close...

The trill of my cell phone jolts me from my dangerous imaginings. I glance at the screen. Speak of the devil.

“Hi you,” I chirp, aiming for a breezy, playful tone. Holly smirks.

Xavier’s smooth voice comes through the line. “Hey, just confirming I’ll send a car to get you at 3 p.m. tomorrow. Black-tie affair, lots of big names. You good with that?”

Suddenly this feels real. Tomorrow, I’ll be thrust into the orbit of Chicago’s elite circle with athletes and celebrities, me playing the part of Xavier’s lover. My chest tightens.

“Yeah, of course. 3 p.m. I’ll be ready,” I reply evenly.

“Perfect. Can’t wait to see you in a gorgeous dress,” he says, a teasing lilt to his voice. Before I can respond, he says a quick goodbye and hangs up.

I stare at the phone for a beat, nerves and anticipation swirling like a tempest inside me.

Holly gives me a little shake. “Chin up, pretty lady. You’re going to knock Xavier’s socks off.”

Buoyed by her confidence, I change back into my regular clothes and take the dress to the counter to purchase it. The older saleswoman beams as she rings me up.

“You look just darling. That man of yours won’t know what hit him.”

I simply smile, not bothering to correct her assumption. She hands me the garment bag, wispy white hair bouncing.

“Wear it well, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” I say sincerely. “I will.”

Stepping back into the buttery afternoon sunlight, I take a deep breath. Whatever happens tomorrow night, I know one thing’s for certain—the Emma who walks into that event won’t be the same one who walks out. This dress represents a bridge to somewhere new, unknown.

As Holly and I part ways outside the boutique, she pulls me into a fierce hug. “You’ve got this,” she whispers into my hair.

I cling to her words as I head home, garment bag in hand, excitement and nerves fluttering inside me like a flock of birds. I absently twist the new delicate bracelet adorning my wrist, imagining how it will shine under the twinkling lights. The stage is set. Time for this small-town girl to play leading lady.

* * *

The following afternoon, I stand in front of my full-length mirror, held captive by my reflection. I hardly recognize the woman staring back at me. Holly’s expert touch during our glam session has elevated my look to an unfamiliar level of elegance, and I can’t help but marvel at how everything has come together. We have styled my hair into a cascade of artful pin-curls that frame my face, with the rest of it swept up into a chic chignon. My makeup, which I usually keep simple, is now a smoky-eyed, red-lipped masterpiece that Holly assured me “brings the drama.”

And then there’s the dress. This lavender dream, ethereal as a twilight sky, clings to me in all the right places. Its fabric hugs my curves while providing just enough give for comfortable movement, a piece of craftsmanship so beautiful it could only be described as daydream incarnate.

A sudden honk from outside disrupts my trance, and my pulse kicks up a notch, pounding in my ears like a dance club beat.

I grab my phone and send Xavier a quick text, telling him I’ll be right down.

My gaze returns to the woman in the mirror.

This is it. Showtime.

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