Page 20 of Wicked Love

“How am I supposed to help you out of it?”

“No idea. But we have less than an hour to fix this disaster.”

“Did you know there’s usually a zipper on the side and it makes it easier to dress?” I knew because my mother used to wear a lot of gowns when she attended charitable events, and I always zipped her up when Dad was busy getting ready himself. Ironic how the woman giving all her free time to breast cancer research ended up being taken by the same illness.

“I’m not some dumb bimbo. My mother. She chose the wrong size. Like she always does. She had insisted I lose ten pounds to fit in it.”

“She what? Care to repeat that?”

“She asked me to lose weight. Even got me those pills. I refused to take them or to sweat my life on a treadmill. Didn’t lose any weight and now I gotta fit into a dress that’s two sizes smaller than what I usually wear.”

I stood there, my jaw hanging open, unable to speak. I’d always known Clarissa was kind of lunatic, but that reached a new height of craziness.

“And she’s been doing this since?”

She shrugged. “All my life. She gets angry because the gap between my thighs is not wide enough or my waist isn’t tiny enough. I’m not pretty enough or tall enough or slim enough. Whatever I do, it’s never good enough for her.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and I hated my future stepmother with everything I possessed.

“Grace, you are beautiful. I swear. I noticed it the first time I laid eyes on you. I couldn’t look elsewhere. There’s just something about you. And I could tell that night someone had hurt you. I just never thought that someone would be your mother and that she would bully you about your appearance.”

“You don’t mean it. Don’t try to be nice to me because you think it’s what I wanna hear.”

“I’m not.”

She shook her head. “Most times, I succeed in creating a wall between my mother’s words and my heart. I started a long time ago. I love myself. Or I used to. These days I’m not so sure I like the girl who looks back at me in the mirror in the morning. All I see are the imperfections my mom keeps pointing at. Some days are harder than others.”

“Fuck.” What else could I say? Clarissa didn’t deserve to be a mother. How could she hurt her own kid on purpose? The thought repulsed me. With a hand, I motioned Grace over. “Come here. I’ll help you out.”

She neared me, and I pushed my hands under the layers of fabric, my palms gliding over her soft flesh. Goosebumps woke up all over her skin under my touch. Memories from our night together played back on a loop in my mind. Even though I had tried to erase every detail from my brain, I could remember each minute with clear precision.

Tension swirled inside me, straining my upper back.

Careful to not rip the fabric and strangle Grace, I peeled the gown off her inch by inch until I could set her free. When she turned to face me, a river streamed down her cheeks, messing with my composure. And my heart. She appeared so fragile right now. A far cry from the assertive girl I met that night in the bar or the one I fought with the last time I was in town. Her armor had vanished, leaving her defenseless.

The caring side of me took over, and I pulled her into my arms, cradling the back of her head with one hand as she cried into my shirt, her half-naked body pressed against mine, my other hand resting between her shoulder blades.

“Shhh, it’s going to be all right. Please don’t cry.”

She sobbed harder.

“What did I say? I’m just trying to comfort you here. Tell me what do to.”

“I-I have nothing to wear. My mother is getting married, and I’m gonna walk down the aisle next to her naked.”

A soft laughter broke free. “You won’t be naked.”

Grace punched my chest. “Not funny. My makeup is ruined, my hair is probably a mess by now, and I’m too fat to fit into that gown.”

“Never say again you’re fat. I won’t allow it because it’s a lie, and I already warned you about lying to me.”

“Stop. Why would you care? You hate me, remember?” Her sobs doubled in intensity. “Don’t pretend you’re on my team. Not after all the hurtful things you said to me the last time we talked.”

“I didn’t really mean them. I was mad at you. You got under my skin, and what I thought was the greatest night of my life turned out to be a tainted memory. I was hurt. And acted like a selfish bastard.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Holding her upper arms, I leaned back to look at her, drying her tear-soaked cheeks with the pad of my thumb. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’m sure we can find a solution. Together.”