Page 62 of Rook

I meant every word, but the women freaked the fuck out like I’d spouted some poetry or something.

But, hey, I wasn’t complaining. Especially after a champagne flute was handed to me and I was pressed into a chair outside the changing rooms.

Tessa was ushered into a changing room a few minutes later. Along with what looked like half the store.

“You don’t buy into the whole ‘It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the ceremony’ thing?” one of the saleswomen asked.

“Nah. Nothing could ruin what we have.”

I meant because it was a contract. But the women all fawned over that.

A minute or so later, the dressing room door yawned open, and there she was. So swallowed up by material that you could barely tell she had a frame under all the white.

“You’re not suffocating in that?” I asked.

“Believe it or not, this is the kind of dress I used to dream about as a little girl. It made me think of princesses. I never factored in that my adult body might not work with it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your adult body. But that dress is hideous.”

Tessa turned to walk into the trifold mirror alcove, seeing herself from all angles.

“God, you’re right. Well, the little girl in me is just going to have to settle for something less… overwhelming.”

After the princess dress, the mermaid one was met with dubious looks from the saleswomen, who thought that it perhaps drew too much attention to her hips and bottom.

“Not seeing a problem there,” I said, really enjoying how the material clung to those particular assets.

But no one was listening to me.

At some point, another customer came in and the women all rushed to her, leaving me alone outside the dressing room where Tessa was making some… interesting sounds.

“Everything alright in there?” I asked, leaning forward.

“Ugh, no,” Tessa grumbled, making me climb out of the chair and step closer.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m stuck.”

“You’re… stuck?” I repeated, trying not to snort. “In a dress?”

“It’s not funny. These things are expensive. This designer must have much smaller sizing. And I just pulled it up and now I’m stuck. I’m going to tear the seams.”

“The money doesn’t matter,” I said. “But let me in. I’ll see what I can do.”

“You can’t comeinhere.”

“This is a bridal shop. I’m sure men have helped with a zipper for their fiancées before.”

“Fine,” she said, cracking the door.

I looked around, but the new shopper and all the saleswomen had disappeared somewhere.

The dressing room was surprisingly spacious—likely to make room for the yards and yards of fabric hanging in the form of dresses on a rack.

As if the trifold mirror outside of the rooms wasn’t enough, the dressing room itself featured nearly floor-to-ceiling mirrors on three of the walls.

“I know,” Tessa said, grimacing at her reflection. “Just what every woman needs—to be able to see her ass while curling her lip at her belly and thighs.”

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