Page 46 of Picking Daisies on Sundays
She slid the pile of mail across the counter. Rummaging through them, my eye caught on one:ESMOD Paris, France. I held the envelope up for her to read.
“Open it!” she shouted impatiently.
“I’m getting there!” This wasn’t a master’s program on the top of my list, let alone on the list at all. I applied strictly because Ethan and my mom said it could be a great opportunity. But now that I was holding the envelope in my hands, trying to get it open…I think I wanted it to say accepted, and I had no idea why.
Tearing the top off and pulling the contents out, I rushed to find the answer.
Dear Ms. Maria, we are happy to congratulate you on your acceptance…
I whipped my head up and looked at my anxious mother across from me. “I got in.”
“You got in?!” She jumped forward, wrapping me in a hug, but quickly reared back. “Wait, are we happy we got in?”
“Yes, yes, of course! This, I, I just wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t know going to Paris would be an option.”
“Well, it is now,” she beamed with a large smile on her face.
“But this wasn’t the plan,” I responded, thinking out loud. This could change everything.
Her hand came up to hold my shoulder, “You can have new dreams, sweetheart. Plans change.”
“Lazaro is still my dream.”
She nodded, understanding. “Okay, let’s wait on Lazaro’s response then. But don’t rule out this opportunity yet, promise me?”
I thought her question over. I said I wanted to challenge myself, and going to Paris would definitely achieve that. Let alone
the fashion opportunities and inspiration that laid there.
“Alright,” I promised.
“Go tell your friends and finish getting ready. I’ve heard quite a bit of buzz about tonight.”
21
there was no such thing as a crowded room
where you stood
Jia and Gabe had a field day going through my mom’s closet because she had a variety of clothes, accessories, and shoes from various designers over the past three decades of her career. Despite designing wedding dresses for a living, she was invited and dressed for numerous fashion shows and red carpets.
When I arrived upstairs, Jia and Gabe were arguing over whose choices were better. Until I directed them to her second…and third closet… In which they actually picked the same dress, shoved it into my arms, and forced me to try it on.
It was a simple, silk silhouette, in a rich blue that almost looked black, but was too deep to be called cobalt. It was floor length, fitted from chest to torso to hips, and unfortunately, hugged all areas of my butt as well. The low scoop neck made my eyes jump to my boobs, especially since it was held up by incredibly delicate, thin straps. My dark, short hair complimented the back of the dress—Jia’s words, not mine—because it was completely backless.
I desperately wished my hair was long.
My arms were exposed, my neck was bare, my back was naked. My bust, waist, and butt felt just as exposed because the
thin fabric revealed every curve and angle of my body. The only reason I was in it right now, getting out of my cab, was because it was A-line, so the fabric loosened in a short train around my legs.
Stepping out of the cab, I placed one foot down onto the curb, determined not to fall. I was in five-inch stilettos that perfectly matched the dark blue of the dress.
Don’t ask me how many times I considered how much closer in height I’d be to Levi in these. How much easier it would be to memorize every curve of his face and crease of his smile.
My wrists, fingers, and neck were draped in delicate silver jewelry that Mom wore to all her favorite red carpet events.
I questioned everything that Jia and Gabe dressed me in, but when I looked in the mirror before leaving, I felt quite lovely. My ears sparkled when I turned, and my short hair looked chic rather than messy. It was really…exhilarating.
