Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Kandace begins holding up combinations of outfits, asking for my opinion. I study them all, picturing myself wearing the clothes. Then she sorts them into ‘yes’ and ‘no.’
Once I have a nice little collection of ‘yeses,’ she helps me to the dressing room and I try them on.
I have chosen three dresses, a half-dozen pairs of cut-off shorts like the ones I’m wearing, but in different colors, and an equal number of flirty, loose tops and tighter t-shirts.
Underwear has never been a thing for me. I skip it when I can, only wearing it when I have to, like with skirts and dresses. And when I’m training, of course, I wear sports bras. But the underwear they sell here in this boutique isn’t like any underwear I’ve ever owned before.
Last night the shop girl picked a pair out for me because I needed them for the dress. But after I’ve made all my big choices, I shuffle through the lingerie section and pick some out myself. Silky ones, lacy ones, plain ones. One pair for each day, plus a matching bra and two new sports bras of much higher quality than the ones I’ve been wearing.
Finally, I find two new bathing suits—another bikini, this one more sporty than sexy with chunky zippers, and a one-piece with long sleeves because I can’t go too many days in a row with my shoulders in the sun without burning. It only makes sense that Eason and I will be on the beach or the boat for the next three weeks while my foot heals. What else are we gonna do? So that long-sleeved bathing suit will definitely get used.
The shop girls are just packing up the pretty glossy bag with my new purchases wrapped in tissue paper when Eason returns. The total came to almost three thousand dollars and even though I really do have that money, I would never waste this much money on clothes. I get what Eason was trying to say earlier, that we have enough to waste it. But I’m a saver. I like to collect money, not spend it. So when Eason checks to make sure it’s all on his bill, I let out a small breath of relief that it’s not gonna make the numbers in my bank account change.
Do I want to be poor? No. I understand as much as anyone how much it sucks to never have enough. But I have no desire to be rich, either. I just want to have enough. That’s all. I want enough to have a safe place to sleep, and enough food that I don’t have to go to bed hungry, and clothes that help me stay cool, or warm, or dry. I don’t need much else. One or two nice things—a dress, sandals, a new bathing suit—that’s my version of luxury.
At least it was. Now, as Eason points to his back and hikes me up to carry me upstairs, I find myself a little bit excited that I will be wearing these nice things in front of him. That he will appreciate them. And want me.
I didn’t really mean to kiss him this afternoon. I just got this sudden urge to do it. To get it over with so that I wasn’t constantly thinking about all these new things that are happening to me. So I could settle into the idea that… I have a boyfriend.
Maybe it’s still pretend? Maybe Eason is just trying to crack open my shell or something. Get me to bloom. It’s possible. And I’m ready for that. If this turns out to be just another misunderstanding on my part, I won’t run away the way I did with Maart. I will just accept what we have with grace. Like an adult and not a teenager.
“Ready?” Eason is looking over his shoulder at me, his cheek right against mine. It’s a little bit scratchy and he smells like an afternoon on the beach.
I nod and lean into him. Like we do this all the time. Like this is just our life. Boating, and shopping, and piggy-back rides. And then I take the glossy bag filled with my pretty things and smile all the way up to the ninth floor.
When we get inside, Eason doesn’t set me down on the couch. He takes me into his bedroom and sets me down on the bed. I’m still trying to work out what this might mean when he walks off, slides a metal door open, and flicks on the light of his closet. He stands in there, kinda studying it, then turns to me. “You can have this side.”
I smile like an idiot when he says this.
“Why are you looking at me that way?”
But all I can do is shake my head because I don’t know. It just… makes me happy for some stupid reason.