A Perfect Fit II
"Me?" I echoed in shock, my eyes nearly popping out of my sockets.
I looked at the huge array of dresses that had been plucked from the racks. When I peered behind the curtain, I could spot more hangers in the background. Dahlia had apparently shortlisted at least ten dresses at the back of her dressing room. My hands were growing increasingly clammy; the white of the dresses looked as though they were sunlight directly reflected into my eyes.
My hands would probably leave grimy fingerprints behind on the smooth fabric; I dared not touch them directly. Was this Dahlia's plan to humiliate me by making me wear dresses she knew she would look better in? Or did she hope for me to ruin them, so she could have another reason to look like the better spouse?
That was something Aubrey would do.
Whatever her ideas were, it was best to reject her politely.