No Second Chances Ex-husband (Lauren and Ethan) novel Chapter 56

LAUREN'S POV

After holding me in a hug for almost five minutes, she finally let me go. My arms dropped slowly, the warmth of her embrace still lingering on my shoulders. It almost felt like she was trying to squeeze all the hesitation out of me until I had no choice but to give in. I exhaled softly and forced a small smile.

“Well, as long as we’re going together, I don’t think I’ll regret it,” I said, trying to convince both her and myself at the same time.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” she replied with her usual confidence, as if she already knew the ending of a story I hadn’t even agreed to live through yet. Then she clapped her hands lightly and turned toward the wardrobe with a sudden burst of energy. “Now, let’s get down to the main issue.”

I frowned and tilted my head. “Which is?” I asked, following her steps as she crossed the room like a woman on a mission.

She glanced back at me like I had asked the most obvious question in the world. “Your outfit, obviously. I’m sure you don’t intend to go there dressed as a mom, right?”

The way she said “mom” made it sound like a fashion crime. I opened my mouth to respond with a defensive remark, but then I paused. Reality hit me all at once. She wasn’t wrong. I had left Ethan’s house in such a hurry that I hadn’t packed properly. I only had my work clothes and, as Tessa loved to label them, my “mom clothes.”

“If by ‘mom clothes’ you mean dressing responsibly, then yes, those were the only dresses I came here with,” I admitted reluctantly. My tone carried more pride than I actually felt.

Tessa spun on her heel. “I knew it! Even back in college, you weren’t much of the dressing type.” She clicked her tongue like it was a tragedy. “But don’t worry. I already have it under control.”

I crossed my arms, a bit nervous. “Tess, you’re not going to make me wear one of those slut dresses, are you?”

She gave me a mock gasp “First of all, it’s not a slut dress. And second of all, you’re not married anymore, so there’s nothing stopping you from wearing it.” Her attention barely left the mountain of fabric she was digging through in her wardrobe. Clothes flew left and right like she was an archaeologist determined to uncover some long-lost treasure.

I stared at her in disbelief. Did she already have this planned out? Did she know from the start that I’d eventually agree to come with her? The thought made me groan internally. Of course she did. That was Tessa — persistent, crafty, and always three steps ahead of me.

Jeez. Thankfully, this was the first and last time.

Her triumphant shout snapped me out of my thoughts. “Found you!” she declared, yanking out a dress with the excitement of someone winning the lottery. She held it up briefly, though the fabric was so crumpled that I couldn’t make out the details.

I felt a spike of dread. “Tessa…”

She only grinned wider, clearly proud of her find.

I didn’t trust her enthusiasm one bit. Before she could wave it in my face, I snatched the dress from her hands and shook it out, holding it properly so I could take a better look.

My brows immediately furrowed. My heart sank to my stomach.

I groaned inwardly, torn between my own discomfort and the guilt that immediately rose in my chest. It wasn’t like I could really say no to her. How could I? This was the same woman who had given up her last savings to help pay for my daughter’s burial. The same woman who opened her home to me when I had nowhere else to go, never once complaining about the extra burden. She had been my anchor in the middle of the storm, the only person who refused to let me drown in grief and shame.

I owed her more than I could ever put into words. And though I didn’t have the money to repay her kindness, the least I could do was give in to this small request. If slipping into a short, open-back dress would make her happy, then maybe I could swallow my pride and just do it.

I let out a heavy sigh, watching her face light up with hope. “Fine,” I muttered, “what time are we leaving?”

Her lips curved into a wide, triumphant smile. “Eleven o’clock tonight,” she replied without hesitation, practically bouncing on her toes.

“Seriously?” My jaw nearly dropped. “I have to show up to my interview on time tomorrow, Tess. Eleven is way too late.”

“And you will,” she promised quickly, her voice filled with reassurance as she tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I swear I’ll make sure you get there on time. I have a job to get to too, you know.”

Tessa didn’t give me a chance to change my mind. She was already moving toward her wardrobe again, humming cheerfully to herself as she sifted through the rows of shoes stacked neatly on the bottom shelf.

“Now,” she said, her tone brisk and purposeful, “let’s find you the perfect shoe.”