Page 90 of Play the Game

Why does she make me want to smile?

Meet me here.

I send her the address to a dress shop the internet says is the most popular one in downtown Chicago. I know she’ll protest, so I type another quick text.

I have a biscotti with me.

Stop trying to bribe me.

After taking a picture of the leftover biscotti that my team ravished, I send it to her. She texts back right away.

I’ll be there in twenty.

I grin and put my phone away. Before I get dressed, I head for the showers with a little bit of adrenaline backing my moves.

I should be frustrated that Scottie and I are going to have to act all lovey-dovey in front of my parents who are attempting to surprise me, but instead, I’m eager.

Which is totally fucked.

The bell chimeswhen I walk into the store. I shut it quickly, annoyed that I have an audience outside. I am blaming it on Scottie’s car and the rumbling of the exhaust that still rings throughout the busy streets despite it being at the mechanic shop all morning.

“Welcome to Bodice and—” My welcome committee trips when she sees me.

Well, that’s embarrassing.

Before I can help her, she snaps to a standing position with rosy-red cheeks. “Sorry, I…wasn’t expecting a man.” Her eyes fall to my left finger, and she shakes out of her stupor. “Are you here to buy your wife a dress or…?”

I stay relaxed when I hear a familiar voice. Her sass is at an all-time high, and I can’t help but grin. Not to mention, was she hiding from me?

“No, he isn’t.” Scottie is so mouthy, and it’s addicting.

I ignore my wife and step toward the rack of dresses. “Yes, I’m looking for a red dress. Something that would pair well with a woman who has a streak of defiance in her.”

Scottie huffs, and I smirk at the sound.

I hear her ask the young dress seller for a moment alone, and when the girl scurries off, I finally turn and give Scottie my attention.

Her arms are crossed with those perfectly sized breasts pushed out. She blows a strand of blonde hair out of her face and pops a hip, propping her worn Converse off the floor. “This store is way too expensive.”

I answer with a question of my own. “Were you hiding from me?” She’s standing awfully close to a dress rack, and I’m beginning to think she ducked down below when she saw me enter the building.

“No, you just didn’t notice me standing here.”

A quick laugh leaves me. “Impossible.”

Something flashes across her face before she storms over to me and grabs my arm. I stare down at her small hand before leveling her with a look.

“Let’s go,” she urges. Her eyebrows rise to her forehead, and I have the urge to smooth out her worry lines again. “I’m not paying six hundred dollars for a dress I’ll wear once.”

Over the last several weeks, I’ve gotten used to Scottie’s frugal ways. I wasn’t born into a family that had endless amounts of money, and I know first-hand what it means to struggle. In fact, just a couple of years ago, my parents almost sold our home to be able to afford Taytum’s insulin pump.

It’s obvious from Scottie’s living arrangements and the fact that she was willing to exploit me that she has some serious hardships when it comes to finances. But for some reason, I find myselfwantingto buy her a dress from this high-end dress shop that she seems uncomfortable in.

Two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have given a shit where she got a dress, just as long as she got one. Now, my wallet is doing a backflip in my pocket to spend every last dime on her.

Not that she would be impressed by that.

Scottie isn’t that type of woman.

---