The dress pictured here was the jumping off point for Ava's creation, but in navy blue bias-cut satin.
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It
is the first of August before I am brave enough to wear the dress Ava made for
me. I haven’t even tried it on; what I saw in
the mirror during the final fitting surprised and disturbed me enough that I
put it in the back of the closet. But this is a special evening, and Prue
Foster will be there, which makes me feel a bit braver.
For
someone so buttoned up herself, Ava has created a dress far more daring than
anything I have ever worn. The navy satin is staid enough, but stitched on the
bias, it flows over my curves like paint. It is cut nearly to the small of my
back, but in the front, a simple drape at the neck offers only a shadow of
cleavage.
I
look at myself in the three-way mirror, trying to decide if it will cause a scandal.
“My God.” Already in his tuxedo, Harry
stands in the doorway. He takes off his glasses and peers at me.
A
blush climbs from the drape all the way to my hairline. “Is it too much?”
He
gives a tiny, stunned shake of his head. “You
look amazing.”
“Ava made it when she was here.” I
turn in a small circle. “I haven’t had the nerve before now.”
“She
should visit more often.” Harry slides a
hand down my satin hip. “I don’t know if I want to show you off or keep you to myself.”
I
smile at him. “You lucky man, you get to do both.”
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