CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
LONDON

“No way, Casey.” I shield my eyes using both hands to block them from the onslaught of terrible popstar clichés I’m being visually assaulted with.

She throws one hip out and crosses her hands over her chest. “What is wrong with this one?” she asks, pulling a leopard bodycon dress from the rack and holding it up for my inspection.

“Everything.” I wave my hand in front of the dress. “It looks like it’s from… What was it called? Something and the pussycats.”

Carter pulls at the fabric and lets it go watching it snap right back to its original shape. “Whoa, cool.” He chuckles and does it again.

“I’m all for the rockstar look, but there is absolutely zero chance I’ll wear anything even remotely close to comic book fashion.”

Casey pouts and returns the dress back to the wild. I mean, the rack. “You said you wanted to redefine your look.”

“I do.” I have been rocking the mom jeans for long enough. “That doesn’t mean I want to try to emulate my inner comic book popstar.”

“It really doesn’t look anything like what they used to wear.” She waves her hands around the store. “It’s kind of fashion.”

“Not my fashion.”

“Fine.” Casey taps her finger on her chin and smirks at me. “I have an idea. You go in the dressing room and I’ll bring you different looks. You can try them on and decide which one is actually you, but you have to try them on to know.”

Carter tugs on the hem of my shirt. “Can I watch YouTube on my tablet, Mom?”

How can I resist that? He uses his tablet to help him calm down if he starts feeling anxious in crowds—or congested stores. “Of course, sweetheart.” I glare at Casey who is giving me a cheesy grin and clapping her hands. She already knows she’s won this battle. I grab Carter’s hand and lead him to the dressing room where we find a chair. “Here, you can watch your tablet here…” I set his tablet up and grab his noise-canceling headphones out of my bag. “Here you go.”

He plops them on his head and settles in. His anxiety is already subsiding. I can tell because he’s not fidgeting as much.

I sit just inside the fitting room, leaving the door open to wait on Casey and her glorious finds. I roll my eyes so hard I feel them hit my brain. She’s a terrific designer and fashion is her forte, but sometimes she forgets I don’t have her same level of confidence. I also don’t have her toned body. I have a mom-bod. I wouldn’t change a single mark left behind during the process of carrying my first and only child, because they are reminders that my body carried a human being and it’s capable of amazing things, but…

I want to look like a rockstar, but maybe like a mom rockstar.

Is that a thing? It’s probably not even a thing.

“Okay,” Casey calls from the end of the hallway leading to the dressing rooms, “I have it narrowed down to ten styles.”

“Only ten?” I groan and scowl at the armload of clothes she’s throwing at me.

She plops a few stray items on the hook in my room then starts separating the items into groups. “Vintage inspired fashion,” she says, as she places the vintage-looking outfit on the second hook. “Bohemian.” The overssized full brim hat is a bit much for my taste, but I nod as she groups the outfit together and puts it on the hook immediately after the first set. She keeps going… “Artsy. Sexy,” she wiggles her eyebrows and makes a pucker face. ”This is the one to land a rockstar. I have a feeling.”

“Stop it! There is nothing going on between me and Griffin Miller.”

“Whatever,” she says as she continues to unload the hoard of clothes onto my dressing room’s hooks. “He kissed you.”

“It was once. On the forehead. That doesn’t count.”

She makes a scrunch face. “Sounds intimate.”

“It was friendly.”

A loud groan rolls off her lips as she holds a shirt up to my chest and studies it.

“For the love of my sanity, just put them all down and let me start trying on,” I shoo her out the door toward a second empty chair. “I’ll figure it out. You just sit there and keep an eye on Carter, please.”

“For the record, I think rockstar chic is my favorite for you,” she calls through the slats in the wooden door.

“Which one is that?”

She snickers. “I thought you said you’d figure it out.”

“Never mind.” I flip through the groups of clothes on each hook, nothing looks like me. “I’m going to start with vintage-inspired.”

“Works for me. I’ll be ready to take pictures as soon as you walk out.”

“I will never speak to you again.”

“You’re stuck with me. On a bus. For ninety days.” She laughs. “You’ll have to forgive me by the time we get back to Tulsa.”

I can’t stay mad at her, even when I try.

I slide the bright red swing skirt on over my black leggings. I am not committed enough to this style for me to tug these things off. Luckily, the cap sleeve polka dot sweater goes on easy over my bright white tank top. I’m not taking that off either. The red headband decorated with a huge bow looks ridiculous on me. I can see how this outfit would be adorable on someone, but not me. I push the door open and give Casey a deadpan glare. “Seriously? This is what you picked out for me.”

She shrugs. “I thought it was cute. This is all just to see what you feel comfortable in. We can refine the actual look after we find the style.”

Click.

Carter looks up from his tablet and wrinkles his nose before quickly returning his focus to his YouTube video.

“Did you just take a picture of me?”

“Huh?” She asks, tucking her phone under her leg. “No.”

“I heard the click.”

“Huh, weird.” She smirks.

I roll my eyes and let the dressing room door lock as I pull the wanna-be Betty Boop outfit off. It’s cute on the hangers, just not on my body. “What should I try next?”

“I’m seriously thinking Rockstar Chic, but I want to see you in the bohemian outfit first.”

Ugh. I slip the bold plum-colored print mid-thigh length skirt off the hanger and hold it up as I study my reflection in the mirror. It’s not terrible. I decide to make an effort for this one. The hem of my leggings makes a loud pop as it finally releases my foot. The ivory colored lace top has a tie at the neckline with a multi-colored fringe that matches the skirt flawlessly.

It’s actually very pretty.

I leave the full-brim hat on the bench, where it belongs, and take a deep breath before stepping out of the door for Casey’s approval or disapproval. The outfit is sweet, charming, and a little daring for me because it shows a little more of my legs than I am used to. I’m not completely sure I’m comfortable in it, but I’m not sure that I couldn’t learn to be.

“Oh!” She hops up and grabs me by the hand to the end of the hall. “I saw a three-way mirror out here. You need to see yourself in this.”

“What?” I pull back on her hand. “I really don’t want to—”

“Shh.” She holds her hand up and shakes her head. “You’ve let Nick have too much say for far too long.”

“I don’t really see what he has to do with this.”

“It has everything to do with him, London.”

I glance back at where Carter is sitting with his headphones on. He’s at the end of the hall and we’re blocking the only exit, so I know he’s perfectly fine sitting there but my stomach still does flips. Having almost lost him really did a number on my nerves. Casey’s still talking. I missed most of what she said.

She glowers at me. “You’re not listening, are you?”

“Not particularly,” I answer honestly.

“I know you think you’re still grieving being left at the altar.” She grabs both of my arms and holds me still. “I know you believe it’s somehow your fault that he left, but those are both lies you keep telling yourself.”

“Don’t tell me what I feel, Casey. “

“I’m not telling you what you feel. I know everyone has their own grieving process. I know it takes longer for some than others, and no one should ever tell anyone that they’ve grieved long enough, but I also know my friend.” Her eyes are softer now. She is actually pleading with me to listen. It totally disarms my defenses.

I let out a deep sigh. “Okay, I’m listening.”

She smiles and gives me a big hug. “Good.” She pulls me to the three-way-mirror just beside the entrance to the dressing rooms. “Look at yourself, London. You’re beautiful. You don’t have to be stuck grieving the loss of a man that didn’t deserve you or Carter for that matter.”

“He was a great guy, Casey.”

“A great guy that didn’t just leave you, he left Carter too.” She points down the hall and my eyes follow the gesture. He’s sitting in the same place, glued to his screen, and giggling. My heart swells and I finally understand what she’s saying. “If that man was half-capable of making a decent decision he would’ve been waiting for you with bells on—that’s right, I said bells on—because you and Carter both deserve the world and he should’ve known it.”

I nod, slowly.

“You haven’t been grieving. You’re stuck. You’re stuck believing you don’t deserve to be happy. You’re stuck thinking that you don’t look like a knockout because he told you what you needed to hear to keep you pining after him, so he’d always have an open door if he decided to pull his head out of his ass and come back.”

She is right.

Every insecurity I have started with something Nick said, even if it was in passing.

“Now…” she runs down the hall and returns before I even notice she’s gone. The switch flipping on inside my brain tells me it’s okay to let go of everything that starts or ends with Nick Hunter. “You need this to top it off.” She plops the stupid plum colored hat on my head.

I laugh and twirl in the mirror. “I don’t know, Case. I don’t think the hat is me.”

“Let’s get Mama’s opinion, huh?” She dials my mom’s number and taps the video chat icon on the top.

My mom’s voice comes through the speaker even before the video can load. “Hello Casey. How are you sweetheart?”

“I’m great, Mama J. Your daughter on the other hand is trying to give me a stroke before my time.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s better than okay.” Casey flips the screen around, so my mom is looking at me in all my bohemian glory, huge hat included. “I’m trying to convince her to branch out a little.”

“You look beautiful, London!”

“Thanks, Mom.” I smile and take the phone out of Casey’s hand. “I like the outfit. I just feel a little exposed.” I self-consciously tug at the drawstrings to pull the neckline a little tighter. “All my junk is kind of hanging out.” I turn around and hold the camera up to the mirror.

Casey groans. “None of your junk is hanging out. You’re just not dressed like a schoolmarm.” 

“Is that still a thing?” I ask.

“Shut up.” She nudges me in the shoulder.

“As long as your junk is covered,” Mama interrupts our little spat, “you should wear what makes you happy. No indecent exposure citations, please and thank you.”

“Not a problem, but this skirt is short enough and my booty is big enough that it might become a problem…” I point at my backside in the mirror.

She lets out a sigh, I hear her even though I’m holding the phone away from me so she can see the full view in the mirror.

“What’s wrong, Mama?” I ask.

“I just hope you’re not doing this,” she waves her hands around at the screen, “changing who you are again to impress some boy.”

I don’t blame her for being worried about that. Casey helped me realize just how far I let myself get lost in Nick. I will never let that happen again. “I promise, Mama, I’m not doing it for anyone other than me. I want to feel comfortable on stage and I don’t think I can do that when I feel like I’m not respecting the job or the audience enough to even make an effort.”

“Did those band members say something to you about not looking rockstar-y enough?”

Casey and I both laugh. “No, Mama.” If she only knew how far that actually was from Griffin’s personality. It seems pretty far out there for his brothers too. Nigel, on the other hand, I can see him saying that.

“They’re actually really great guys, Mama J,” Casey pops her face in the camera angle to help me out.

Mama lets out another sigh, but this is a sigh of relief and a welcome sound to my ears. I don’t want her worrying about me like that. She needs to know that I am strong enough to handle myself and protect Carter from any more heartache. “Good,” she says. “I know when I was your age, I met your father and I would’ve done anything to make him look in my direction.”

“You didn’t have to do anything to get Daddy’s attention. He told me the story.

“I know.” She smiles and wears that all-knowing mom look. Do all moms do that look? I wonder if I do that to Carter… “Luckily, I didn’t have to do anything to get him to look my way, because he was already looking.”

“I don’t get it.”

She groans. “The point is, I would have. I’m just worried that you’ll lose yourself again before you find the one who will never ask you to change a thing about yourself because they already love you for who you are.”

“Okay, Mom.” There is literally zero chance of getting out of this conversation without just going with it and agreeing. “I promise, I will not change a single thing for anyone other than me, and Carter of course. If he needs me to change something, I will.”

“I expect nothing less.” She smiles again. I can tell her gaze is watching something behind me, but I can’t see because I have her on full screen.

“Mom, whatcha looking at there?” I swipe to enlarge my view and see Griffin Miller smiling and waving from just the other side of the aisle. “Crap.” I lower the phone and take off back to the dressing room giving my mom a good ol’ fashioned up-the-nose triple-chin camera angle. The bane of every social media user’s existence. Oh well, she’s my mother. It’s not the first time she’s seen my nose hairs. “Casey!” I yell down the hallway peeking out from behind the wooden slatted door.

“London?”

Crap. “Sorry, Mom.” I bring the phone back in front of my face. “I saw someone I know, and I didn’t want them to see me trying on clothes… You know, it’s awkward.”

“London.” She mom-tones me right through FaceTime.

I hang my head. “I know.”

“I’ve Googled. I know that was Griffin Miller.”

Stupid Google.

“The way he just looked at you, before you even knew he was there—” She taps the screen. I assume she’s trying to swipe a notification out of the way. I don’t really know, to be honest.

“I know, Mom. It’s how Dad still looks at you.”

Her smile is one that every woman would recognize. The feeling of being completely loved and content. It quickly fades to a stern, finger-wagging grimace. “You’re going to get in your own way again, unless you stop letting Nick screw up any chance you might have for happiness.”

Ugh. I peek around the door to see if Casey’s coming. She isn’t. 

“Carter deserves to be happy too, you know?”

“Carter is perfectly content. He’s sitting right here with me.” I spin the camera around so she can see him completely engrossed in his videos.

“You know what I mean,” she says, still in the mom-tone. It’s the same tone I’ve used on Carter a thousand times.

“Why do we have to keep talking about Nick?” And for the love of sanity, why is Griffin waiting at the end of this hallway?

“Casey!” I yell, again. “Fine, Mom. You’re right. But our happiness isn’t going to be found with Griffin Miller. I gotta go.”

“How can you know that?” she asks.

“I just do. I gotta go. I love you. Talk to you later.” I tap the end call button and lock the screen just as Casey comes through the dressing room door. “What is he doing here?” I yell. Okay, I’m not yelling. I don’t want to be overheard, but I’m whisper-yelling.

“I didn’t know he was coming.” She shrugs and hands me a new selection of clothes. “He came with Devon.”

“I didn’t know Devon was coming,” I fire back, while inspecting her latest finds. “I actually really like this one.” I hold up the bright pink vegan leather—no animals were harmed in the making of this outfit—skater skirt, and black bodysuit with Sassy written in fancy script across the chest.

She makes a cringe face. “Sorry, I thought I told you he was coming,” she says as she tugs the pieces off their hangers and shoves them at me. “Here.”

“You definitely didn’t tell me he was coming,” I grumble as I slip the bodysuit on followed by the skater skirt. I study myself in the mirror. “I like it, but it’s—”

Hangers clank together as she flips through the rest of the selections on the hooks. She pulls jewelry from several of the different outfit collections. “Try these with it,” she lays them on the bench next to large rose gold framed sunglasses that probably cost more than my car payment. She reaches for the door just as I put my arm up to block it from opening.

“Wait. You can’t just… You can’t… I can’t…” I make a back and forth motion with my hands between me and the space between us and the end of the hallway. “What am I supposed to do about Griffin?” I whisper.

“You’ll be fine.” She pats me on the head like a child and moves my arm out of her way. The door locks shut behind her. “I’ll stay here with Carter while you change,” she calls back through the slats in the door. “But I think this is our winner already.”

Sigh.

I spin around to study myself in the mirror and I hate to admit it, but I think she’s right. The skirt is long enough that I don’t feel like I’m completely exposed, but short enough that it’s still hot and shows off my toned thighs. I worked hard for these things, especially after having Carter. This look is definitely me and I already feel more like the person I was before I met Nick. That feeling alone is worth its weight in gold, unlike these sunglasses that I’m going to buy anyway. Feeling more confident I slip on the open-toe black high-heeled boots, which hit just above my ankles. “Dang it, Casey. Why do you always have to be right?”

“You’re welcome,” she sing-songs back. “Go do a spin in the three-way mirror.”

I shove the door open and rest one hand on my hip. “You think I won’t?”

“I think you would.” Her eyebrows pinch together as she decides how to follow that up. I already know what she’s going to say. “I’m not sure Nick will let you.” She takes my hair and pulls it into sections braiding my bangs into my hair then wrapping them into a knot, which she perches on top of my head.

I purse my lips together, annoyed by the fact that she’s right. “I doubt he would’ve let me go on tour, either.” I remind her.

“So, prove him wrong again.”

Carter looks up from his tablet for the first time and smiles. “It looks good, Mom,” he says before going back to his screen.

My heart soars. “I feel like myself again, Case.”

“Good.” She holds the door open for me. “That man is head-over-clumsy-heels for you. I’m pretty sure you’re in deep too. Now, go do something about it.”

I take a deep breath and look back at the girl in the mirror. I smile, knowing that I’ve found my way back to myself and this time I don’t plan on letting anyone take that from me again.