Just Like Her

Chapter 54

*TRIGGER WARNING* This chapter discusses emotional abuse. If you suspect yourself or someone you know to be in an unsafe or unhealthy relationship, please call your local hotline. No judgment, just support. 

Emma

"Christ, Emma, it's August! You'll get heatstroke wearing something like that," Cynthia exclaimed gesturing toward the turtleneck had I had been considering.

"You don't need to overcompensate for the pictures," she added a touch more softly as I tucked the garment back onto the rack.

"Can't be too careful with your family... Charlie somehow managed to be swinging my bra around the first time we were introduced," I admitted sheepishly.

Cynthia smirked as she elegant draped her arm around my shoulders. "Don't worry. You're not his type."

I was about to ask if I were her type in retort when the shopkeeper suddenly appeared offering to pull options for us. I agreed eagerly, and the posh-looking woman nodded politely before ushering back into a private fitting room.

"Refreshments?" she offered as Cynthia made herself comfortable in one of the plush chairs.

"Tea would be lovely, thank you."

"None for me, thanks," I mumbled as I slipped behind the blue-satin changing curtain. The sight of half a dozen cocktail dresses hanging from garment rack filled me with a mixture of apprehension and relief.

"I still don't see why you're so nervous!" Cynthia called as I slipped off my shoes and then my trousers.

I unbuttoned my blouse and cursed myself for not wearing a strapless bra. "I'm meeting Tom's parents—your parents. It's a big step!"

"You've already moved in together and practically announced your engagement," she rebutted.

"I did nothing of the sort!" I exclaimed as I walked out in the first dress. I stepped onto the elevated pedestal and frowned at my reflection. "Perhaps I should avoid wearing white..."

Cynthia barked in laughter as she leaned forward to pour herself a cup of tea from a neatly prepared silver tray ladened with an ornate porcelain teapot and several plates of biscuits. "Please, the color of your dress will hardly save you from questions of marriage, Emma. Besides, it was your idea to wear the ring publically in the first place."

I ignored her and considered the dress. It was three-quarter sleeves with a high neckline, which I liked, but the pearl white color practically gleamed wherever light hit it.

"But what if I should spill something on it?"

Cynthia cocked an eyebrow in amusement.

"I'll try on the next one," I muttered as I retreated again to the changing room.

"I know our family may seem... intimidating," she started.

I snorted as I hung the dress back up and reached for the next one. "Just a bit."

"But at family dinners, we're just that—family. No titles, no protocols... surely you must have experience meeting previous boyfriends' parents!"

"Uh, no actually. I haven't," I admitted somewhat awkwardly as I did a quick spin in the next dress before stepping out again.

Cynthia's eyebrows shot up, though at my comment or the dress I wasn't sure. It was soft pink with a fluffy tulle skirt that flowed to my mid-knee.