Page 136 of I am Dressed in Sin (Death by Daybreak MC 2)
“Don’t do that,” he scolds, looking me over carefully. “Don’t pretend that you don’t know.”
I look back at the curtain and wonder what that perv is up to in there, surrounded by all of that lingerie.
“I think he’s disappointed in me.”
Sin shrugs.
“Maybe. He thought you were too wild to be tied down.” Sin kicks his boot up against the wall, and the saleslady flicks an annoyed expression his way. With a sigh, he drops it to the floor and crosses his arms over his chest.
“He said that?” I ask, cocking a brow as I continue to stare at the curtain.
“He said that,” Sin confirms, nodding his head. He gives me a real smile, one of a number that I could count on both hands. I remember him smiling a lot more, before my sisters’ funeral. Before he kissed me like he wished our combined love would grant us both the sweet release of death.
I understand why he pulled away from me that day, at least. Fifteen is pretty young.
Eighteen is young, I guess. But whatever. Sin and I are a thing now, officially. Or as officially as two people can be when one of them is four days away from marrying someone else.
“What would you have me wear?” I ask, and Sin hazards a glance over to where Reba and Nellie are fawning over more gaudy dresses.
“Nothing from here,” he says, almost wistfully. “Something short and casual. A white sundress, maybe. Or white leather pants.” The idea makes him grin. “Yeah, I like that. White leather pants and my jacket.”
Crown scoffs as he pauses beside us, his own eyes taking in the dress fervor with interest.
“I like traditional gowns,” he adds, shrugging unapologetically. “You looked nice in the mafia one, I have to admit.” I give him a look, but he isn’t smiling, even if his words are somewhat playful. No, he looks sad. This is truly the end of an era for him, the loss of a dream.
“Alright, we have a stack for you to try on,” Reba calls out, waving me over excitedly.
“Wish me luck,” I murmur, moving away and slipping into the dressing room.
The first dress I step into is form-fitting, a pale cream color with tiny crystals on the bodice. When I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t recognize who it is that I am anymore.
“Come out and show us!” Nellie calls as the saleslady finishes buttoning me up. I do as my mother asked, moving out into the room and pausing in front of a three-way mirror while Nellie and Reba gush excitedly.
But it isn’t them I’m looking at.
It’s Sin. It’s Crown. Surprisingly, it’s also Grainger.
The three of them are watching me in just such a way that I might blush, if I were the sort of girl who was capable of that kind of thing. Instead, I stare right back at them in challenge. Don’t abandon me all over again, my look says. Don’t leave me.
“Do a spin for me, sugar,” Reba says, and I blink myself out of my trance, doing a quick turn so she can study my silhouette. “I’m not a fan of the cream. Let’s try a white one?”
I don’t complain. How fucked would it be if I did? Nellie’s been through a lot; Reba’s been through a lot. I can, at the very least, give them this moment to enjoy.
The next dress is one of Reba’s picks, this flouncy, fluffy thing that makes me wish I had some lighter fluid and a match on me. Her eyes sparkle when she sees it, laying her hands on my shoulders and leaning in close from behind.
“If I were getting married,” she tells me in that pretty drawl of hers, “this is the one that I’d pick.” Her eyes flick back to the three men still watching us from the other end of the bridal shop. “Do you see the way they’re staring at you?” she hisses quietly, making a tsking sound with her tongue.
“I’m still fucking all of them,” I whisper back, and I can see in the mirror that the blood drains from her face, turning it the same color as the dress.
“Gidget Liberty Kesselring,” Reba scolds, reaching up to clutch at her imaginary pearls. “You are not.”
“I am so,” I repeat, turning slightly to study the extraordinary amount of tulle bunched up around my ass. “And I intend to keep on doing it with Beast’s blessing.”
Reba lets out an exasperated sigh as I move back into the dressing room. I cannot strip the princess dress quickly enough. I also can’t strip away the fact that Beast and I have yet to finalize this conversation, to come to a conclusion that we both find acceptable.
I should rightfully bring it up, ask him what he wants, tell him what I want.
