Page 97 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

Elliot: Dress—7/10

Face—8/10

You—10/10

I giggle. After looking at every dress in this store, I’d probably give this one a six out of ten. It would still be the most beautiful thing in my closet.

I slip into the spaghetti straps of my green dress and snap another pic. This time I puff my cheeks out and widen my eyes into the biggest circles possible. I send it off to Elliot and then force myself to be patient by leaving my phone inthe dressing room. His reply will be waiting when I come back—I hope.

“That one is nice,” Bill says. “I like the green with your hair.”

I stand in the center of the trifold mirrors, right in front of May and Bill, and spin—without anyone instructing me this time. I learn fast. And maybe I’m ready to get back to my dressing room.

“Yes, very pretty,” May says. “Let’s see number three.”

“Sure,” I tell her, then take off for the dressing room, my legs swishing between the layers and layers of tulle and lace in this dress.

Snatching my cell from the dressing room bench four seconds later, I turn and lock the door behind me. I slink onto the little bench and grin at Elliot’s response.

Elliot: Dress—8/10

Face—9/10

You—10/10

I slip from the green dress and hang it back up. I give my favorite a once over—gosh, it’s beautiful—before pulling it from its hanger. It’s soft and lovely, and I might feel a little like Cinderella when I put it on—not because of the dress design, but because when I see myself in this thing, it’s me, but the best of me. I don’t see doubts and worry and weakness. I just see me—and I look good.

The draped shoulder shows off my peacock scar which I oddly feel even more proud of since telling Elliot the story. The slit peeks at my right leg to the middle of my thigh. I walk dogs for a living—and my legs are proof. I have awesome legs. I set a hand to my stomach and breathe in.

Then—I screw up my face, teeth-gritting with an obnoxious grin, eyes squeezed shut, and snap a picture of myself to send off to Elliot.

My face may be ridiculous, but that dress still looks great.

I wait three seconds for a reply, but not even three little bubbles pop up to tell me he’s writing. I can watch my cell impatiently, or I can show off this beauty to Bill and May.

I step from the dressing room, my head and shoulders feeling taller than before. I walk to the center of the mirrors so reverently that Bill and May, deep in conversation, don’t even notice me.

I clear my throat—announcing that I’m here—and Bill blinks up at me.

His bushy brows raise, and the right side of his mouth quirks up in a funny grin. “Wowza, girl. Now that’s a dress.”

May’s face melts into pleased triumph. “Yes, I like this one too.”

Noel hums out a small moan, lifting her head as she lays next to May, almost as if to say she agrees.

I press my lips together, hands clasped behind my back, and stay silent—though I can’t help my grin. I love this dress. I won’t say as much. But I can’t stop my smile.

May dabs at her eyes. “Yes, this one is just beautiful, dear.”

Bill smacks his knee. “Winner winner chicken dinner,” he says, giving me one more approving nod. “One-thirty’s gonna fall head over heels.”

I swallow. “Bill.” I shake my head, but no other words escape. Pushing out another breath, I start for the dressing room, time to change.

“Oh, one moment, Bonnie.” May stands, waving a handat me. “Ilike this one. You may choose whichever you like, dear. But I do like this one. It suits you.”

I lick my lips and grin at my friend. She’s a hard woman to say no to.

May holds up her phone and I smile as she snaps a picture of me.

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