Facade of Love (Yvette Scott and Idris Young)
Chapter 468 In a Fashion Frenzy

The salesperson sized me up and beamed, "Right away, sir."

She turned to me, "What's your style, miss?"

I glanced over at him, lounging in the seating area like he owned the place, and my mouth quivered in spite of myself. All that just to go shopping?

I could not figure out his angle, and frankly, I did not want to. I just told the salesperson, "I'm all about comfort."

She nodded and we dove into the racks of clothes.

It had been ages since I had gone clothes shopping. Lately, I had almost forgotten that I was a vibrant young woman in her prime, with the same simple pleasures as anyone else flowers, window-shopping, delicious treats, and a bit of fun.

I couldn't pinpoint when it all started, but my mind was a jigsaw puzzle of broken memories: Kobe, torn apart by an explosion, Officer Jackson, his last breath stolen by a downpour, Renata, consumed by flames, Jack, whose heartbeat faded in a hospital bed, and Moore and Christina, broken by the cruelty of prison walls. Dead or alive, they were all suffocating memories that weighed me down.

A year had passed, and my life had been drained of hope and color, leaving nothing but shades of despair and fear.

Talk about a sad existence!

"Miss..." A salesperson's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I blinked back to reality and noticed her anxious gaze, clothes in hand. "If these aren't to your liking, feel free to browse some more, or perhaps try a different style," she offered.

Realizing I had zoned out big time, I quickly shook my head and managed a half-hearted smile. "No, this one's fine."

After all, clothes were just clothes. They covered you up, and that was that.

"Try on a few more for her!" Lucas called out from the lounge area, his hands propped under his chin, eyes lazily watching us.

The salesperson bobbed her head in agreement and scurried off to fetch more options, leaving the outfit with me to test out in the fitting room.

I shot a look at Lucas, lounging there with that infuriatingly charming grin. If it were not for that face, I would have cursed him out a thousand times by then. With a glare, I disappeared into the fitting room. The dress was a one-piece, not bad looking, really. Maybe the recent blues had me swimming in it, unable to give it the shape it deserved.

The salesperson's voice, full of false urgency, nudged me from outside the fitting room. I stepped out, zipping up the dress, as she piled on the compliments. Whether it was genuine or just part of the sales spiel, who knew?

I checked myself out in the mirror. The dress was not hideous on me, but it was not exactly a showstopper either.

Lucas, lounging on the couch, shot me a look and tossed out a zinger, "Yvette, you're as thin as a rail. It's kind of sad."

The server barely held back a snicker, making me feel awkward.

I shot Lucas a frosty glare and brushed him off, grabbing a bunch of other clothes to try on. The saleswoman had a decent eye for my size because the next batch of clothes actually fit pretty well. After a few outfits, I was over it and told Lucas straight up, "I'm done trying stuff on. I'm beat."

Lucas got up, whipped out a card, and handed it to the server, "Bag up everything she's slipped into and ship it to this address." He handed over a card that I guessed had the address on it. Once he finished his orders, he eyed the dress I was still in and winced. "It's not the cutest, but it's a step up from your last getup. Let's hit the road."

I scowled and sidestepped his hand. "I've got to change back."

He arched an eyebrow. "Ditch that disaster of an outfit. It's an eyesore."

"You..." I was so steamed I could feel it in my bones, but he was yanking me out of the store before I could let loose.

He did not seem ready to call it quits, and I was not having it, "Lucas, I'm wiped. I need a break."

He let out a dismissive huff, not even giving me a glance. "The main event hasn't even kicked off. Suck it up!"

Main event?

What main event?

I was clueless, but there I was, getting dragged around to buy several pairs of shoes that actually fit, and he even strong-armed me into a pair of heels. They were not skyscrapers, but I did not want to wear them. There was no particular reason. They just felt like too much.

It was nearly two hours later when we finally bailed on the mall. Decked out in new threads, shoes, and a bunch of bling, I thought Lucas might be a few cards short of a full deck.

Giving him a hard look, I could not help but ask, "Were you big on playing with dolls as a kid?"

He looked at me like I was speaking another language. With a flick of the ignition, he shot me a frosty glance. "Start making sense, will you?"

Jerk!

I glared back at him, barely containing my fury. "If you can't stand me, why'd you have to doll me up into this freak show?" I could not come up with any other explanation than his odd obsession with playing dress-up.

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