“Sir, she's ready with the first dress,” the girl announced, bowing curtly before she pointed at the dressing room. A large, ruby-red curtain hid the interior from view.
I followed her in. It was a private room with a sofa and a mirror. A thin, white, threadbare curtain separated it from the changing area. Once inside, the girl slammed the door quietly and disappeared behind the white curtain, leaving me to stew in a multitude of questions about Andrew's recent trip to see Erin and Damien, as well as a shitload of uncomfortable silence.
“Darn it, it's too low. I don't like it,” I overheard Lana complain.
“Don't be a wuss. It looks gorgeous on you,” the girl retorted.
A moment later, she pulled the curtain aside, and my eyes widened, my heart rate quickening at the speed of light, a war
