Page 43 of Wallflower in Bloom

“Not all clothes are made for all people. Have you ever sewed, Violet?” Shay pinned the loose fabric at Violet’s waist so the skirt looked effortlessly contoured.

This was the eternal problem; if something fit her butt or hips, she had an extra handful of material at her waist.

“Never sewed. I faint at the thought of needles.” Violet shuddered.

“When you sew, you learn the garment on the rack should be taken as merely a suggestion. A first draft. Because every body”—she paused, meeting Violet’s eyes with meaning—“and I mean every single body is different in this world. And they’re all good.”

Shay grabbed more safety pins as she spoke. “The poor manufacturer can only make one pattern, and they guesstimate what works for most people. But you, dear, are meant for better.”

She tucked a flirty, off-the-shoulder top into the pencil skirt Violet wore, manhandling her.

Aaron, who sat scrolling his phone in the corner, glanced up. “Oh, damn.”

“Bad?” Violet craned her neck around to look in the mirror.

“Don’t move,” Shay said, continuing to pin.

“Not bad. Fucking good.” He snapped a picture.

Violet’s face instantly grimaced, but he rolled his eyes.

“It’s just for Rose. She wanted proof you weren’t in a sobbing heap.”

“So,” Violet said suddenly, thinking about what Shay said about clothes fitting. “I should get clothes handmade for me?”

“No, darling. A tailor. I get everything tailored. T-shirts, jackets, skirts, nightgowns.”

“I thought that was for suits. Isn’t it expensive?”

She took Violet’s chin with a stern gaze. “You know what’s more expensive? Hating all of your clothes.”

Shay gently turned her to the full-length mirror Violet typically avoided like the plague.

Her cream pencil skirt wrapped around her, nipping in at her waist and skimming down her ample curves. The off-the-shoulder sea-foam green silky top complemented her pale skin and auburn hair. It skimmed along her shoulders and dipped in with a curve, showing her cleavage. She looked like a pin-up.

“How did you–?” And she turned around to see the skirt waist was cleverly pinned with hidden safety pins, so it was sculpted to her body.

“This will work for photos, but we’ll send these to your local tailoring place. I cannot allow you to walk around in the outfit you wore to the café. No offense,” she added quickly, sipping a sizable to-go coffee cup.

“Speaking of the café, gotta go,” Aaron said suddenly. “Somebody fell through, and I have to cover a shift.”

“But you’re my emotional support best friend.” Violet frowned, grabbing his hands.

“You look hot as fuck, never seen you look better. Smile big for the photos, and remember I’ll have the largest slice of double fudge chocolate-chocolate cake waiting for you when you and Lord Hotpants want it.”

“And dinner,” Shay said, absent-mindedly scrolling her phone.

“Dinner?” Violet turned around, and her stomach gripped in panic.

“You need to be seen in public. Get paparazzi-style shots of you out in the world. When better to start than tonight?”

Aaron placed a quick kiss on Violet’s cheek. “You got this,” he whispered in her ear and thundered down the stairs.

“I got this.” She looked at herself in the mirror and saw something like herself staring back.

She tilted her head in thought. Had it been this simple all along?

“I think this outfit wins for today’s shoot, don’t you?” Shay stared admiringly in the mirror, her bold magenta lips in a proud smile.

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