This time, Melanie looked with objective eyes, seeing herself as Kelly did, pushing away the thoughts that she was too old, too conservative…too everything for this dress.
A smile curved across her face. “It does look good, doesn’t it?” She spun to one side, then the other, watching the skirt twirl against her legs.
“I’d lose the white ankle socks, though.”
Melanie laughed at her footwear staple. “I promise.”
She stayed there a moment longer, slipping into the habit of envisioning Cade’s reaction to her appearance. How he’d smile at the way the dress flattered the parts of her body he most admired.
Like her legs, her breasts. Heck, he’d been happy with about anything, back in those early years, before the sizzle in their marriage had gone from full boil to simmer before finally dissolving.
A memory of him, coming into the bedroom while she was getting ready for a rare evening out—their fifteenth anniversary—sprang to mind. Melanie, in high heels and a little black dress, busy fastening the diamond earrings he’d given her onto her ears, hadn’t heard him come in. He’d snuck up from behind, stealing his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her neck, then turning her slowly, oh so slowly, in his arms, until her lips were beneath his—
And they ended up twenty minutes late for their dinner reservations.
If she wore this on Friday night, would Cade do that again? Would he kiss her like he used to, erasing the past year, closing the ever-widening gap between them?
Would he once again make her feel like the only woman in the world? She closed her eyes, bittersweet longing washing over her.
“I’ll get the dress,” Melanie said, still wrapped up in the luxurious feel of the silky fabric against her legs, the memories of Cade.
“Good. Now let’s go pick out my favorite part.” Kelly’s eyes glistened with excitement. “The shoes.”
A few minutes later, Melanie and Kelly left the mall, a little lighter in their wallets. Melanie swung her new dress over her shoulder, matching heels dangling from a bag attached to the hanger.
Kelly held up the bag containing two new pairs of sexy summer sandals. “When it comes to shoes, I might as well just hand over my credit card the second I walk into the department. I never leave empty-handed.”
Melanie laughed. “I’m that way with coffee cups. I have a whole collection of them on the back wall of the shop. Some of them are antiques, some just caught my eye in a store.”
Her friend shook her head. “You are so not normal.”
Melanie laughed again. “Thanks for dragging me out of Cuppa Life to go shopping. I needed this.”
“As long as you promise to run interference when Roger sees the Visa bill.”
“All you have to do is wear a sexy little dress and he’ll forget all about it.” As the words left Melanie’s mouth, however, she realized she’d never really done that with Cade.
Except for those rare special occasions, she’d never donned a sexy dress just to see him smile, or distract him from his day. From the start, their marriage had been wrapped around Emmie, and struggling to survive on the minimal income they’d made while Cade worked his way through law school and then up the firm’s ladder. Melanie had worn the uniform of a mom—sweats, no makeup and hair in a ponytail.
Then, as Emmie grew up and Cade grew busier at work, the number of hours in a day seemed to shorten and the distance between her and her husband had seemed to lengthen, regardless of whether she remembered to put on a little mascara and lip gloss. The problems that they had went unresolved, pushed to the side. After too many years of ignoring the issues, those problems had become too big, too complicated to solve with a little black dress.
What had she been thinking? That a dress would somehow magically erase the illusions she’d had about their marriage? That wouldn’t happen, no matter how much she might wish it. Melanie had to be realistic, not get wrapped up in a silky fabric and a handful of memories that stubbornly lingered.
In the parking lot, Melanie hugged Kelly and said goodbye, then slipped into her own car and headed back to Cuppa Life, resolved to put Cade from her mind for the rest of the day.
“Hey, Mom! What’d you get?” Emmie handed Cooter his regular blend, stamped his frequent visitor card, then turned to face Melanie as she came around the counter.
“A dress.” Melanie slipped on an apron, then whisked her hair up into a ponytail. Back to regular ol’ Melanie.
“I know that.” Emmie rolled her eyes. “Details, Mom. I need details.”
“Well, it’s knee-length, a kind of burgundy-pink and…” She paused, avoiding Emmie’s inquisitive gaze by busying herself with washing her hands.
Emmie put a fist on her hip. “And what?”
“Well, it’s a little sexy.”
“Way to go, Mom.” Emmie let out a low whistle. “I never would have pegged you for a sexy dress.”
“Hey, I was sexy once.” Put that way, it sounded pretty darn pitiful. When she’d been Emmie’s age, she’d worried about her appearance, spending hours in the mall, poring over fashion magazines, and then trying one outfit after another until she had the perfect one. Since she’d gotten married, she hadn’t let herself go—exactly—she’d simply had other priorities to take up her days. Priorities that didn’t include makeup, curling irons and especially didn’t include sexy dresses.
She thought back to the image of herself in the mirror, the way the skirt swirled around her legs, how every inch of the maroon fabric had accentuated curves lost behind her Cuppa Life apron. Maybe it was time to revamp that priority list.
After all, she was thirty-seven, not dead.
“I bet Dad will love what you bought.” Emmie threw the words out as casually as bread crumbs.
Melanie started restocking the small under-the-counter refrigerator with milk and cream. “I’m not wearing it for him.”
Liar, her mind whispered. She was, too. Because a part of her still craved his sexy smile, that light in his eyes when he looked at her.
“Uh-huh,” Emmie said.
Melanie brushed the thoughts away. Thinking about Cade’s reactions would only send her back down the very road she’d left last year. A road Emmie seemed to be ignoring lately, as if she saw the separation as a phase her parents were going through.
“Emmie,” Melanie said softly, laying a hand on her daughter’s. “Dad and I are getting divorced. Please don’t read anything into a dress.”
Emmie scowled. “You guys are always telling me not to give up, to keep going for what I want. Why is it okay for you to do it?”
“I’m not giving up.”
“What do you call a divorce? Why don’t you two just sit down and talk?”
“We have, sweetheart.” But a little voice inside asked if she’d simply taken the easier road.
“Maybe you didn’t try hard enough.” Emmie’s words were sharp with anger.
Melanie sighed. “It’s more complicated than trying harder. Than a conversation.”
Emmie threw up her hands. “I am so sick of this, of going to your apartment, then Dad’s house, and seeing both of you totally miserable. You’ve always told me relationships take work. Well, why don’t you two practice what you preach?” She stalked off to the rest room, ignoring Melanie’s calls for her to come back.
Melanie rubbed at the knot of tension in the back of her neck. Emmie didn’t know the whole story. And there was no way Melanie was going