Page 40 of Raise The Bar
No response.
Me:Speaking of the wedding, my sister would like to meet you. Would you like to come to dinner next Saturday with us? Josh and Betty will be there, as well as Josh’s sister, Rilla.
After I’d sent the last text, I saw the three dots appear and waited for his response. But they’d vanished a minute later and still no reply. I told myself he must be busy and ignored the sneaking suspicion that something was up. He did eventually respond, several hours later.
Callum:Sounds good. Let me know the details.
That was it. No flirty come back. No jokes. No celebration over the fact I’d accepted his offer to be my date. It was the most “un-Callum” text I’d ever received. After that, there had been radio silence from him. Finally I texted him yesterday telling him that we were meeting at Barcelona at seven o’clock, but his response had been another “sounds good.”
Was he already regretting offering to be my date to the wedding?
I shake my head and reach for April’s next dismal selection. He wouldn’t have volunteered if he didn’t want to. He’s probably just having a busy week with work. Maybe he’s been spending time with friends or hooking up with random women. Which he’s completely entitled to do. However he’s choosing to spend his time, it makes no difference to me.
I’m trying to figure out how to put on the one-shoulder, lime green monstrosity that April selected for me when there is a soft knock at the door. Before I can respond, a dress is gently slid over the top of the dressing room door by an anonymous pair of hands. I accept it silently and look it over. It’s lovely. Discarding the other dress, I quickly slip it on and take in my own reflection. I feel like a vision in light pink chiffon. The v-neck bodice cradles my curves and shows just a hint of cleavage. The asymmetrical skirt flows around my hips and I twirl a bit in the small room, watching it move with me and imagining how it would look and feel on the dance floor. The back has a deeper v than the front and it’s low enough that I’m able to zip it up on my own. It’s the perfect dress for an August wedding. Simple. Elegant. Beautiful.
I emerge from the dressing room feeling as though I’m glowing from within and hop back onto the pedestal. The sales clerk claps her hands with glee.
“It’s perfect!” she squeals, adjusting the skirt so the slit falls in just the right place. I twirl in approval.
“I agree,” I say, beaming at myself in the mirror. Out of the corner of my eye, I see April arms crossed and scowling.
“That’s not the dress I picked.”
“I realize that.” I don’t look at her, instead choosing to keep admiring my own reflection. “It’s the dress I’m picking. The style and color will flatter both of us. It’s gorgeous, it’s comfortable, it’s reasonably priced and–oh my God, April it has pockets!” I’m not backing down on this one. June told me to pick the dress I want, I’m picking the dress I want.
The sales person reappears with an identical dress for April, who takes it begrudgingly and goes into the fitting room. I mouth “Thank you!” to her and she gives me a double thumbs up.
I hear a text notification come from my purse in the dressing room. After digging around, I manage to locate my phone and find a new message from Rilla.
Rilla:I’M HERE! Get your ass over here!
A picture appears next of her and Betty, eyes wide, heads together, full wine glasses lifted to their mouths. Barely holding back a squeal of happiness, I send a quick response.
Me:BE THERE SOON!
April stalks out of the dressing room like a sullen child forced to wear her Sunday best. The dress looks every bit as gorgeous on her as it does on me, if not more so. She has a figure that looks good in everything and this dress is no exception. Sensing her hesitation, I immediately start piling on the compliments and my favorite sales woman joins in.
“The fit was MADE for you!”
“The color could not complement you more!”
“You look absolutely STUNNING!”
“You could model that dress for a bridal magazine!”
“Pockets, April! POCKETS!”
“Okay, okay.” She gives us both an exaggerated eye roll. She’s acting like she’s unhappy, but it’s obvious she knows the dress looks amazing on her and she loves all of the attention. “We’ll go with this one. But you owe me.”
I join her on the pedestal, throwing my arms around her for a hug which she returns stiffly. April and I may have more than our fair share of differences, but she is my family and I love her. Even if she makes it difficult sometimes. The sales woman volunteers to take our picture with my phone. April strikes a pose like she’s an Instagram model, almost knocking me off the small stand, but the picture still comes out cute and I immediately send it to June.
“I need to get going.” I bounce down and skip into the dressing room. I found a dress I love, convinced April to go along with it, and I’m going home to drink wine with two of my favorite people. Today is a good day!
“Where are you off to in such a hurry,” April asks when I emerge. She’s still on the pedestal, looking at her reflection from all angles and taking pictures of herself in the large mirror.
“I’ve got plans with friends.”
“Anyone I’ve met?” She’s still staring at herself, but I don’t miss her meaning. She wants to know if I’m seeing Callum. She’s a predator who’s picked up the scent of blood. Now that she’s aware of his existence, it will be almost impossible for her to let it go.
