Page 51 of Jilted

Wilder put his hand on my shoulder and gently guided me to turn. Once we were facing each other, he put his other hand on my other shoulder, sort of like a coach talking to his player.

“You have ten more weddings you can buy dresses for.”

He was right, but…

Wilder must have read the hesitation on my face. He leaned in and spoke more softly. “Do you want to keep that chapter of your life open?”

I shook my head.

“Then sell the dress, Sloane.”

I took a deep breath and nodded, looking over at the sales clerk. “I’ll take the store credit.” It felt good to say. I smiled at Wilder. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. Now come on…” He slung an arm around my shoulder and walked us toward the back of the store. “You’re going to try on sexy shit for me as a reward for being such a good friend.”

My smile grew. I could handle that.

Ten minutes later, I exited the dressing room wearing a dressso low-cut, I’d checked twice to see if it was on backward before coming out.

Wilder’s face slid into a dirty grin as he stared at my very on-display cleavage. “Now that’s a keeper.”

I chuckled. “I’m practically naked.”

“I know. It’s freakinggreat.”

I’d turned to go back into the dressing room when a display caught my eye—a wedding dress that reminded me of the one JFK Jr.’s wife, Carolyn, wore on her wedding day.

Wilder followed my line of sight. “You see something you like?”

“That dress is amazing.”

He pointed. “The gown? Does it look like the one you’re selling?”

I shook my head. “It’s nothing like mine. But I think it might be the first dress since mine to give me goose bumps.” I lifted my arm to show him.

Wilder shrugged. “Why don’t you try it on?”

I snort-laughed. “We came here to get rid of a wedding dress. I’m not doing that again, buying a dress for a fantasy that doesn’t exist.”

The salesclerk made her way back to the fitting room. She held out a piece of paper. “This is the best I can do on the gown. It’s a beautiful dress, but it’s pretty old.”

I swallowed hard looking at the number written on the sheet. It was maybe 10 percent of what I’d paid years ago.

Wilder caught my eye. “It’s not about the money, right?”

I sighed. “Yeah. You’re right.” I looked to the salesclerk. “It’s a deal. Thank you.”

A little while later, we pulled up to the brownstone. I had two new cocktail dresses and still a small store credit left.

“What time is your flight?” I asked.

Wilder glanced at his watch. “Three and a half hours from now. I have to pick up Lucas and get this car back to my dad’s garage before we head to the airport. So I do have to get going, though I wish I didn’t.”

“I don’t know how to thank you for today. I feel lighter already. Freer.”

Wilder winked. “That might’ve been my hope all along. See you in London—maybe a few days early?”

I smiled. “Yeah, I think you might.”

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