Page 73 of Second Chance Vacation

No.

I roll my eyes impulsively.

“Gen—we’re getting married. I don’t know what you expected.”

She’s right, I should have seen it coming, but it doesn’t stop my stomach from lurching at the idea of seeing Jackson more than necessary.

“I know—I’m sorry. When do you move?”

“This weekend—” She looks back toward the mirror, wiping her hands over the front of the gown, allowing the beads to rake against her palms.

“Oh, are you hiring a moving company?”

My gaze finds the rack I was just looking at, admiring the different fabrics.

“Not exactly…”

Savannah grows silent, causing me to look up at her. She is gnawing at her bottom lip, clearly resisting the urge to say something. I know where this is going, and yet I find myself surprised when she says it.

“I was hoping that you could help me move.”

Oh.

Well, okay.

“You scared me for a second. Of course I’ll help you move. I’ve helped you before…”

The same look from before befalls her face, and my mind finally catches up to what she was trying to say. Jackson. Jackson will be there. Jackson will probably be helping. Jacksonlivesthere.

“…oh.”

Awkwardly, I look back to the garment in my hands, picking slightly at the fraying at the hem. The velvet texture of the bodice surprisingly provides me with a sense of calm.

“If you can’t, ya know, be there…I understand. I know things are weird between the two of you right now…”

“No—Savannah…it's fine. If I started avoiding everything Jackson could possibly be at, I would never see you. I’ll be fine. We’re both adults.”

Despite my reassurance, Savannah still looks concerned, but she doesn’t voice it.

“Are you thinking about this?” she asks, walking over to grab the dress from my hands.

It is a knee-length velvet sheath dress with a deep cowl back, having just enough fabric to drape around my lower back. Despite the entire dress being purple, the top is darker as the fabric shifts from a deep purple to a lavender shade. The long sleeves are modest, but the back is rather open—leaving little use for a traditional bra.

“I don’t know—”

“Gen…it’s perfect. You need to get it…or at least try it on.”

She hands me back the dress, and despite my lack of desire to do so, I follow her to the dressing room, closing the one next to her own behind me.

While I’m not exactly wearing the right bra for a dress like this, the rest of it fits me surprisingly perfectly. The velvet forms a square neckline, providing more coverage in the front. To my delight, the fabric is draped in such a way that it doesn’t hug my stomach, but it doesn’t swallow me whole, either. I like it, it’s perfect. Even more so, I can already think of a few other uses for it after her engagement party.

Grabbing the tag, I look down as my stomach drops.

Authentic Vintage

$250

My eyes bug out as I reach for the zipper in an attempt to get this off of my body as quickly as possible. I can’t afford the damage that I am probably causing by just being in this dress. The curtain flings open as I hear a gasp.

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