Damon entered the room, wearing a white shirt, but it was unbuttoned at the top. He glanced at his watch. “What are you looking at?”
“Jake,” I said. “I want to make sure we’re on our way.”
“He’s always checking on us,” Damon said, walking toward the bathroom. “Tell him we’ll get there when we get there.”
I wrote, “We’re getting ready. I can’t wait to see you.”
I went into the bedroom and closed the door. The house was silent, the only sound the faint hum of the heater in the hallway.
I reached into the back of the closet, past the dark wool coats and practical winter skirts, and pulled out a box of Evelyn’s dress shop. The tissues rustled loudly in the quiet room.
I pulled out my emerald dress and pressed it against me. It felt light, almost weightless, compared to the heavy cottons I usually wore.
