Amy on Her Own

For a second, standing in the dressing room I feel light. I'm having fun. I swish the skirt a couple times, then unlock the door and stride down the fitting room aisle. A couple of the girls freeze when I step out and their eyes follow me the length of the room.

I smirk.

"Amy?" I call carefully as I get back onto the sales floor. She's got to be around here somewhere, and even with the fizzing anger, she'll have to see how perfect this dress is for me.

I scan the room, then freeze.

Over in the corner, on the guy's side, next to the counter, the woman who helped me is standing with a guy in front of a three-way mirror, brushing off his shoulders, and measuring the length of a sleeve.

It's a back I recognize. A tattoo peeking out of his shirt collar I know too well.

Aiden.

Maybe I said his name. Maybe he felt me staring. Whatever, he turns suddenly, eyes wide for a second before they narrow.

I swallow hard.