Emery didn’t get out of bed the entire time we were in Grand Canyon Village.
The next morning, when it was time to make the short drive to Las Vegas, he seemed to be slowly coming back to life. He woke up early and showered, bought us breakfast, and walked Kalo. After I finished our laundry, we packed up and checked out, driving along the canyon for as long as we could so Emery could at least get a look.
Still, even though he was alert and driving, he wasn’t talking much. Other than asking me if I was ready or if I had any music preference, we were still on the silent treatment, and I hated it.
I felt refreshed from seeing the canyon, and I had to physically bite my tongue to keep from telling Emery all about it. I wanted to share the experience with him, but I knew better than to try to talk to him when he was in this mood.
Been there, tried that, binge ate the doughnuts alone in the hotel room while he hooked up with another girl.
No, thanks.
But more than anything, I wanted to know where his head was at. What did our kiss mean to him? Did it mean anything at all? Nausea haunted me at the thought that I may never get the answers.
It was only about a five-hour drive into Sin City, and I kept my eyes on the desert the entire time. When the lights glowing in the low valley came into view, the sun was just beginning to set, and for the first time in two days, Emery smiled.
“Welcome to Vegas, Little Penny.”
My heart fluttered at the nickname, at the warm tone, and I glanced at him, his smile infectious as we closed in on the oasis city. It was literally in the middle of the desert, but it was bright and loud, the energy buzzing from the strip all the way down the road to our car still just out of town. I couldn’t tear my eyes away the closer we got, and once we were actually on the strip, I just hung one arm out the window, staring in wonder.
It might as well have been daytime for how bright it was, and there were thousands of people littering the strip. I watched as bachelorette parties stumbled over the bridges crossing the strip in ridiculously tall high heels, all of their dresses matching, the bride standing out in white. There were street performers of all varieties, club promoters passing out cards for clubs, and when we paused at a stop light, a man grinned at me, handing me a playing card with a scantily clad woman on the front.
Scratch that — she was naked.
I held it up with wide eyes, and Emery laughed from the seat beside me as I freaked out and flicked the card away from me, letting it float down to the floor board. Narrowing my eyes at him, I punched his arm playfully, and the smile fell from his face just as the light turned green. Now that I was looking at him, I couldn’t stop — not with the lights shining over him, casting him in a different colored glow every second that we drove, his hair blowing back behind him with the top down.
He was coming back.
Or, so I thought.
We checked into the Cosmopolitan, which was right in the center of the strip, and I nearly ran into Emery six times as I looked around at the casino, the high-hanging chandeliers, the shops, the glamour. Kalo seemed lost with me, the two of us stumbling around like we were hypnotized as Emery led us in confidence. It was absolutely unreal, and though Emery fit right in with his fashionable sweater and designer jeans, I was still in yoga pants and an oversized long-sleeve shirt, and I felt completely out of place.
Emery ripped his bag open as soon as we were in the room, and I got Kalo set up with her bed, food, and water, turning to Emery just as he reached back for the neck of his sweater, pulling it up and over his head. Heat tinged my cheeks, and I pulled my hair over my shoulder, twirling it in my fingers as I looked around the room — at literally anything but his bare, toned back.
It was stunning and modern, with a glass shower right between our room and the bathroom, a long chaise with a view of the large windows overlooking the strip, and a wide balcony. I ran my fingers along the plush purple runners at the edge of the bed before opening the sliding glass door and stepping out into the night, the breeze sweeping up from the strip and taking my hair with it.
Kalo came out to enjoy the view with me, and I tucked my arms tight around my middle, teeth chattering just a bit. It had been warm driving in the desert, but now that the sun had set, it was in the fifties, a dry kind of cold.
“I’m going out,” Emery said, and when I turned to find him standing in the doorway, I froze.
His hair that was so messy from the wind in the car was tamed, combed over in a stylish wave, the sandy blond strands framing his golden eyes. His jaw was set, hands resting comfortably in the front pockets of his beige dress pants, a wintergreen button up hugging the muscles of his arms and drawing my attention to where the top few buttons were left undone. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and the whole outfit made him look casual yet completely put together. He was a walking GQ model.
And I had a ketchup stain on my shirt.
“You wanna come?”
The way he asked, I wasn’t sure if he actually wanted me to join him or not, but the thought of spending the night alone in Vegas was enough to make my stomach do a somersault.
“I do, but…” I pulled at my clothes, eyes on the stretched-out fabric. “I don’t have anything… like… that,” I said, gesturing to him.
Emery watched me, waiting, and I stared at him, waiting, too.
But no answer came from his lips, and no reassurance, either. He didn’t have to say anything for me to realize that it was my problem, not his.
“I’ll check out some of the shops downstairs and I can just text you when I’m ready, and meet up with you then?”
He nodded, and the words had barely even left my lips before he turned and jetted out the door.
Kalo tilted her head at me, as if to ask me what the hell I was going to wear to go out on the town in Las Vegas. Her ears flopped over, tongue following suit, the wind blowing at the shaggy strands of her fur.
“I don’t know, Kalo pup,” I said, bending to press my forehead to hers. With a sigh, I ruffled her fur and stood again, eyes on the fountain springing to life below. “It might be time to dip into the savings.”
After perusing the elegant shops in the Cosmopolitan and finding out very quickly that they were entirely out of my price range, I was ready to give up and stay in my pajamas for the night. I figured renting a few movies and cuddling with Kalo wouldn’t be so bad.
But then I remembered I was in Vegas, and I mentally slapped myself.
Thankfully, a sweet middle-aged woman heard me asking the cashier at one of the boutiques if there were any other shops nearby, and she pointed me across the strip to the Miracle Mile Shops.
It was a different kind of wonder, being on the Las Vegas strip. It wasn’t the Rocky Mountains or the Grand Canyon, a natural, earthy beauty that stole my breath away. The lights were the stars here, the hotels were the mountains, the sidewalks the valleys, and the people who flowed through them were the wildlife. Sin City seemed to whisper to me as the wind swept my hair back and I watched those who passed me, their eyes set on winning money or dancing the night away. Their electricity buzzed through me, and I bounced a little as I walked through the doors to the Planet Hollywood entrance to the mall.
Las Vegas was welcoming — warm and bright and loud — and I had my heart set on making just as many memories on the strip as I did hiking Seven Falls.
I scanned a few of the stores before finally seeing one that seemed a little my style, and as soon as I pulled one long dress off the rack, a charming, impeccably dressed man rushed to my side.
“Can I start you a fitting room?” He was all smiles, his voice light and airy, dark hair styled to perfection.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, handing him the one long dress I’d found. The other ones I’d spotted were all short, so I followed him back, but he paused.
“You’re not done shopping, are you?”
I shrugged. “I was looking for a long dress, and this seems to be the only one you have.”
The man waved a hand at me, and I caught the name on the tag fastened to the front of his vest. Antonio.
“With your figure? Short is the way to go. Or a tight pair of jeans to show off that tiny frame. Here, why don’t you try this on and I’ll grab you a few other options. Is it to go out, for dinner, casual?”
I shifted, realizing I hadn’t even asked Emery where he was going. “Um… I’m not sure. I’m meeting a friend out tonight, but he didn’t tell me where. I think it’ll probably be a bar of some sort.”
“Oh, honey,” he said on a laugh. “There are very few bars on the strip. It’s all clubs, and that means we need to get you all glammed up.” He hung my dress on a hook in the back dressing room, holding back the fabric curtain for me to step inside. “I’ll be right back. Trust me, you won’t leave here until you’re looking fabulous, doll.”
He clapped his hands together with an excited giggle before leaving me alone in the room, and I just chuckled, tucking the curtain closed.
It turned out Antonio was my lucky penny, because the only dress I’d managed to pick out myself swallowed me like a burlap sack. But he had plenty of outfit choices for me to try on, and a few of the other female associates joined in, bringing me shoes and accessories, all of them joining in a mixture of oooh’s and aaah’s every time I emerged in something new.
Still, nothing seemed to be sticking. Not until I pulled on a short, black dress, one I’d been saving until last. I’d tried on the jeans, and the pant suits, and even the leather leggings — but wearing this meant one thing I wasn’t sure I could handle.
My prosthetic leg would be visible.
The dress was long sleeved, with a draping neckline that accentuated what barely there breasts I had before tapering at my waist. There were swirl-patterned strips of fabric missing on the side and at the bottom, each of them covered in a mesh lace, and the hem cut off halfway down my thighs, leaving me way more exposed than I was used to.
Every part of me that I saw as a flaw was on full display — my nude socket, the silver pylon leg, the foot that matched my skin tone as much as it possibly could. It was all I could see as I pulled back the curtain with a shaky breath, ready for the stares, for the questions, for the looks of pity. But when I stepped in front of Antonio and the two other associates, they stared alright — but not at my leg.
At me.
“Oh. My. God,” Antonio said, punctuating each word as one hand covered his mouth.
“That’s the one,” the girl to his left said, shaking her head like she was in disbelief. “Wow. You look killer.” She snapped her fingers together. “I have just the shoes.”
She disappeared before I could tell her I wouldn’t be able to wear heels, but it didn’t matter, because I turned to face the three angled mirrors, and when I stopped looking at my leg, I saw what they saw, too.
It was like the dress was made for me.
“Antonio, I can’t wear this,” I whispered, though my fingers ran over the smooth fabric with longing, brushing the mesh lace along the edges.
“The hell you can’t,” he said, stepping up beside me. He lifted his arms over my head, dropping them down to lay a gold necklace over my collarbone. It was a layered choker, several thin chains making an elaborate design that seemed to accent the dress perfectly.
“But…” I looked down, wiggling my leg.
“But nothing. What, you’re worried about that?” he asked, nodding to my leg in the mirror as his female counterpart handed him a pair of bedazzled ballet flats over his shoulder. “Honey, no one is going to be able to focus on that with your tits pushed up to the heavens and your thighs singing hallelujah like that. Here, just try these.”
I sat on the small cushioned bench and pulled the flats on, cringing a little at the way I had to stretch the delicate fabric over my prosthetic foot. But both shoes fit, and when I stood again, wiggling my toes and admiring the unique way the flats strapped over my arches, they all gasped.
When I turned back to the mirrors, all I could do was shake my head. “This is crazy.”
“It’s perfect,” Antonio corrected. “Do you have contacts?”
I cringed, but nodded. “I do. I packed a pair in my purse just in case. You think I should wear them?”
“Definitely. And, what are you going to do about that hair? There’s a blow-out place a few stores down. You should see if they can get you in. And stop by Mac for makeup.”
I pressed my hands flat to my stomach, feeling a little overwhelmed. “How much is this going to cost me?”
Antonio added up the shoes, necklace, and dress, and when he told me the total, I nearly passed out. It was more than I made in three shifts at the diner. I sighed, bending to remove the flats, Antonio and everyone else protesting the entire time.
“I can’t, guys. It’s too much.” I sighed again. “It’s all too much.” Suddenly, I felt defeated, and I had no idea why. “I don’t even know what I’m doing.”
Maybe it was battling with Emery for three bad days in a row, three days of him not talking to me, not acknowledging what had happened between us. Maybe it was that I was miles away from the place I’d called home my entire life, and I’d lost who I was, yet hadn’t quite found the new person I’d become. I was in a strange purgatory, stuck between the before and after, unsure of every move I made.
Antonio exchanged a look with the two girls beside him, then he smiled down at me. “Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe you work at our sister boutique in LA!”
I cocked a brow, eyeing him as he shared knowing looks with the other two.
“Of course we’ll give you the employee discount. That brings your total down forty percent. Oh, and, what do you know — that dress just happens to be off our clearance rack!”
They all just watched me, their flawless smiles surrounding me in the dressing room, and it was all I could do not to fall apart. I didn’t know whether to cry or hug them all, but I settled for the latter, whispering a thank you in Antonio’s ear.
“My pleasure. Now, go fix that hair and get your face done, and show that friend of yours what you’re working with.”