Page 7 of Beg for It
“Alright, here we go. Arms up so I can secure the skirt around your waist.”
I peer over my shoulder and clamp my jaw shut, eyes bugging wide at the absolute behemoth of tulle she holds in her hands. I can’t even see the woman over all the material.
I silently follow her instructions, letting her fuss around as she secures the skirt around my waist and zips it together. She lets out a small gasp once the clasp is in place, and I can’t help but automatically smile at the way she admires the skirt with a look of utter glee.
“Oh, Blair. It is just stunning.” She claps her hands together. “Let me grab the bustier and we can see how it all comes together. Arms up again, okay, darling?”
“Okay.”
I raise my hands to the sky, waiting as she continues to work her magic like a designer dressing a mannequin.
She lets out a squeal, circling me as she fluffs up my hair and fixes pieces of the carefully structured tulle skirt.
“Absolutely gorgeous. Did you know this was all hand beaded? I sat with the designer for three hours to get the design perfect, and it was all worth it.”
Her attention is fully on the gown, admiring every detail she had a hand in crafting.
My chest pangs slightly, smile cracking an inch.
“Go ahead, give me a twirl.”
I take a step forward and—Oh my God, this thing weighs a ton.It’s like I’m dragging an extra hundred pounds at least. My mother might have gone a little too far this year.
I push on and muster all the core strength I have to twist around, the dress following me in a circle with a light swoosh. Ido feel like a fairytale princess, but the shine is dulled as years of pageantry have desensitized me to the excitement.
“You’re certainly…pink.”
I almost trip over my feet, accepting a deadly fate, when a strong hand grips my elbow to keep me grounded.
“Josh.” I grin up at my younger brother.
We are only a year apart, and half the time he acts like he is older than me, but I adore him all the same. We weren’t the closest as children, but as we’ve aged, we’ve found more common ground. It is good to have someone who understands the pressure that comes from living in the Hanes household.
“Glinda, the Good Witch?” he asks.
“You guessed it.”
He hums, turning to our mother and giving her a bear hug. “And who am I? The Cowardly Lion? The Tin Man? The Scarecrow?”
She lets out a soft laugh. “For my sweet boy? The Tin Man. Your father and I are the Scarecrow and Dorothy while Rufus will be the Cowardly Lion.”
Ah. I should’ve figured she’d dress our golden retriever as the Lion. No one in the family is safe from tradition, not even the furry ones.
She steps back and holds my brother’s hands with unbridled excitement.
“You should see the custom suit I had created; it’s made from real tin. And I have a professional makeup artist booked for everyone. She has this perfect shade of silver face paint that pairs exactly to the costume.”
I see the moment Josh’s façade cracks, the right corner of his smile twitching up as the skin around his eye crinkles a fraction too tightly.
“Oh, super fun.”
I stifle my own laugh, but he catches the way I press my lips together since he is almost a whole head taller than our mother. He quickly sticks out his tongue, and I mimic the expression back without her seeing.
“You are a little late, sweetheart, but let me go grab your costume and we can make sure everything fits.” She pats him on the bicep before turning to me. “Don’t move, we still need to get your heels on to make sure the hem sits right.”
The second she is out of the room and I’m confident she is halfway down the staircase, I shoot Josh a narrowed side-eye.
“How did you cajole your way into showing up at two p.m. on Friday?”
