Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Jake’s arm is still on my shoulder, and his fingertips are idly playing with Walker’s bare toes, which dangle from the front-facing carrier on his chest. It’s cute how affectionate he already is with Walker after hardly more than a day around him. “I’m not saying I’ve never disguised myself.”
I laugh. “Really? Like a black baseball cap and sunglasses?”
“Something like that,” he says, grinning.
I look over my shoulder and see there are definitely still people from the crowd following us. They’re leaving a few steps, but it’s painfully obvious. “Are they going to follow us into the clothing store?”
“Most people give it up after a little bit. A few people would probably try, but I figured booking a private session at the store would be smart. So we won’t have to worry about them following us in.”
“You just think of everything, don’t you?”
His expression sours, but he recovers with a quick smile and a nod. “I try to.”
“Almost done, sorry,” I call out through the dressing room door. I’ve got Walker cradled in my lap as he breastfeeds like he’s starving.
“You don’t have to apologize,” Jake says. His voice is muffled through the heavy door. He brought me to a multi-story, ultra-fancy designer dress store. We were met by our personal concierge at the door, whisked up to the sixth floor, and paired with three stylists who were ready to tailor my choice to fit and accessorize me with matching jewelry . They even have a hair stylist waiting for me.
“I’m just guessing it wasn’t cheap to book time for this. I doubt you planned on paying for the most expensive breastfeeding in history.”
“We have as long as we need. Stop worrying. Let Walker get his fill and try to enjoy yourself.”
I look around the fitting room. It feels more like a swanky hotel room than a fitting room. There’s a bathroom, the comfiest couch I’ve ever put my ass on, a TV, and even warm towels. “Thank you,” I say.
“Are you still doing better, by the way?” Jake asks. “I brought the medicine if you need another hit.”
I laugh. “It has been so crazy since we left the hotel. I’ve barely had a second to think about whether I feel sick or not. But I’m doing better, I think.”
“Good.” I hear women’s voices outside the door. Jake is saying something, and then I hear high- heels clicking on the floor as they move away. “They brought some dresses. Want me to bring them in?”
“Um,” I say. “I think he’s almost done.” I look down at Walker, whose eyes are heavy. I gently pull him away and grin at his milk-drunk expression. “You’re such a man,” I say softly, running the back of my fingers down his soft, chubby cheek.
I brought a fold-out travel crib and have it set up in the room with me. I carefully lay Walker down with his lovie and go to the door. “Okay,” I say. “Let’s see–oh.”
Jake laughs. He holds the dress up again, looking at it again as if trying to see what I see. “You like it?”
“Like it?” I ask, taking it carefully by the hanger. “It beautiful.”
One of the women who helped us into the room approaches and sees my expression. She smiles. “This is from the Javier Worthy collection. One of our absolute finest. This is a one-of-a-kind dress he designed. We just got it in yesterday. The fabric is silk chiffon.”
I carefully lift the dress and let the material flow over my hand. It’s so light it’s almost like liquid. The color is a pale pink, like the inside of a seashell. When I look closer, I see a floral pattern hidden beneath that blush color, woven with rose-gold thread that seems to catch the light and shimmer as the fabric moves. It’s hypnotic, and I realize I’ve just been staring at it, open-mouthed.
Jake is smirking at me. “Do you even need to try it on? You look like you’re in love.”
The woman beside him looks pleased with herself. “She’d be crazy not to be.”
“You know,” Jake says. “Once upon a time, she used to look at me like that.”
I’m too caught up to play along. “I can try this on?” I ask.
The woman’s smile is kind. “Of course. Take your time. And remember, we’re here to make sure it fits you perfectly. If you like the design, we can do whatever we need to make the dress look like it was made for your body.”
I thank her and step into the room.
I undress and slip into the dress, which feels like I’m draping myself in woven clouds. The neckline is a gentle scoop that shows just a touch of cleavage. The skirt flows out in a soft A-line, with layers of chiffon that create a subtle, almost imperceptible train that trails behind me like a whisper.