Chapter Eight

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        Laura's first stop on the itinerary was a designer store that apparently was a foreign country to me. Besides the foreign country I'm already in, I mean.

        Firstly, there were no clothes in the shop. No, that would've been much too easy. Instead you had to ask for things to try on. Lucky me, I had to start from scratch with my wardrobe choices, so I simply asked for everything. I didn't realize how many clothes I needed. Shirts, pants, shorts, skirts, dresses, underwear, bras, socks, shoes, hats, and apparently purses. That didn't even scrape into the subcategories, like evening wear and sweaters.

        "Plus we'll be back later this fall for your winter collection," Laura told me as I stepped into the dressing room. My eyebrows shot up; I wasn't used to all new clothes. If I was lucky, I bought a cute shirt or a new set of scrubs once a month. This was unheard of.

        The first outfit I loved: a lilac dress with a string halter neck. Laura agreed, and for a second, I wondered if maybe she was only a tough shopper with her son. Perhaps it wouldn't be a nightmare. This theory was quickly disproven with the next outfit.

        "I don't know," she mused.

        "What's wrong with it?" I asked defensively, since I liked the cropped white tank top and the acid-washed jeans.

        "The jeans are nice," she admitted. "The top is a little basic."

        "We also have a fuzzy option," the woman helping us chimed in. 

        So I tried the fuzzy option, and I had to admit it was cuter, and softer. The next outfit was unfortunately a complete bust.

        "What's wrong?" I asked, looking in the mirror at the floor-length blue dress that looked like it should be worn by a princess.

        "It's so plain," Laura fretted. "And those sleeves come so far down."

        "I don't know, I like the color. Is there a different style?" I asked the woman hopefully.

        She shook her head in regret. "Unfortunately not, but we could have a custom order ready in two weeks." 

        "Nevermind, I like it, but not that much," I said in disappointment.

        The next dress was controversial too. Laura loved the extremely short, extremely tight pink dress. Me, not so much.

        "It's um...a little indecent," I admitted, trying not to be outright rude.

        She waved off that concern, as if elegantly swatting a fly. "Nonsense, a wife is supposed to look good for her husband. Add it, please."

        I'm sorry, what just came out of her mouth? While half my brain was screaming EWWWW, the other half was desperately trying not to wonder why she'd ever say that to the wife of her own son.

        "Don't look so surprised, Jackie, I have to have grandchildren some way," Laura said, apparently seeing my look of horror in the mirror.

        That had made it so, so much worse in a matter of seconds. "Oh, I don't think Grayson and I will have kids," I said, frantically needing to get under her skin at that very moment.

        "Really? Why ever not?" Finally I'd found a hole in her perfect appearance.

        "Oh, it's not for sure or anything," I said mysteriously, changing into the next outfit behind the curtain. "I just don't know how I'd feel, raising a child who'd rarely see their dad. Grayson would be incredibly busy with work and traveling, it just doesn't seem fair to the kid."

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