Gibson
I hadn't really expected to find decent clothes at the bargain close-out store where Sacha took us to shop. I'd never ventured into one, at least not since I was really young. My father's finances had improved tremendously by the time I was twelve, and before that, my mom and my sister bought my clothes. Once I was an adult, I wore fine clothes because it served a purpose and projected a certain image. An image I had rejected recently, only to discover I rather enjoyed wearing comfortable clothes again. I no longer cared what I wore, much like when I was a boy.
But Sacha had led us to the racks of designer clothes, in the basement of an old department store. They were a few seasons old, but there were some gems among the rubble if one had the time to search.
She had an eye for detail and found the perfect wool sports jacket for me in a rusty shade, shot through with specks of emerald green. I selected a cream-colored button-down shirt with interesting wood buttons. I was already wearing my best pair of jeans, but my work boots wouldn't suit. After trying on several pairs, I found faux leather boots in my size. They didn't look like real leather, but the color was right. Sacha assured me they were the right pick.
"No one will notice. This crowd will likely be vegan, anyway, so they'll applaud your choice."
"Where is this gallery?"
The likelihood of running into someone I knew on a Saturday night in Midtown was pretty good. I knew it was a risk, but worth it, because it also gave me the chance to spend more time with Sacha.
It was good that I'd not shaved off the beard or cut my hair.
"Near Midtown. It's a private gallery. Very exclusive, but I hear it's not tiny. Big enough to hold a party, anyway."
Some of the shops and galleries in Midtown, or nearby Little Five Points, were tiny. Rent was expensive, but more than that, it added to the chic atmosphere of the villages surrounding Atlanta.
"We'd better find a belt that isn't leather to go with. Or I'll have to wear the shirttail out."
In the end, she decided I looked more "artsy" with the shirt out, but what really pulled the outfit together was the dark green vest Sacha discovered on a clearance rack. It was a bit snug in the shoulders, but no one would notice under the jacket. I had to admit, I looked good. Sacha agreed, her eyes roaming over me as she looked at my reflection in the full-length mirror.
"Pretty hot. For a mountain man."
"Yeah, I clean up nice, eh? But I'm not wearing a scarf, so don't even think about it."
"Awww."
She had picked one up during our foray through the clothes racks. I wanted to look like I fit in, but a guy could only go so far. She tossed the scarf on a nearby table with a shrug.
Sacha had picked a colorful blouse for her outfit, one roomy enough that her growing belly bump wouldn't show. The cream and blush tones, accented with teal, would bring out her eyes. The pattern was artistic but minimal.
We paid for our purchases separately. I tried to pay for hers, but she wouldn't allow it, leaving the line we were in for another cashier. The woman could be infuriatingly stubborn. I had enough room on my prepaid credit card to cover both of our purchases. Maybe I'd gone a bit too far with this low-key persona. I didn't want her thinking I was a charity case.
On the car ride back to her place, I decided that it was time to tell Sacha the truth about my life. Her actions the past few days had proven she was not the type of person to take advantage of a situation. She was fiercely independent, perhaps to a fault. It was no wonder, with what she'd been through in her life.
If she knew the truth about me, perhaps it would ease her mind. I couldn't have her thinking I didn't have the ability to take care of her and our child financially. Maybe then she'd be open to being more than just co-parents.
Yes, I'd tell her tonight after the party. When we were alone, and she was relaxed.