How She Came Home

Chapter Sixteen

The Thursday evening before the gala, Becca was stepping into the small designer boutique that she'd made Alice pull a few strings to open for her after hours, smiling at the attendant as Freen, Mind and Nam filed in after her. 

Setting her handbag down beside a small loveseat, Becca shed her coat and turned to look at the other women, who were all looking around with apprehension.

"I took the liberty of putting a rack together with all of our best pieces," the woman said, wheeling it out to the middle of the small store. "Can I offer you refreshments?"

Becca accepted the glass of sparkling water and stepped up to Freen, who was already rifling through the array of dresses. 

There was a growing look of trepidation on her face and Becca gave her arm a squeeze as she raised her eyebrows encouragingly. "See anything you like?"

Eyes widening a fraction as she flipped a price tag over, Freen leant in to Becca, her voice hushed as she replied. "Becca, this dress is a thousand dollars; none of us can afford this."

Pressing her hand against Freen's back, Becca smiled slightly at her scandalised tone, "you don't have to - I'm paying."

"I can't let you do that."

Sighing, Becca grimaced, "at the risk of sounding too snobby, I won't comment on the prices, but... would it help to know that these dresses are the product of sustainable fashion? The designer also made the outfit I'm wearing, and it'll be good publicity for the company so..."

"No one will be looking at us; they'll be too focused on you."

Tugging a soft velvet dress out, eyeing the deep burgundy and thin straps, Becca smiled. "Not if you're wearing this."

Pursing her lips, Freen eyed the dress and Becca took it off the rack. "At least try it on."

Sighing, Freen took the dress off her and fixed her with an exasperated look. Grinning, Becca took a seat on the loveseat, sipping her sparkling water as Freen moved towards a changing room at the back. 

Glancing over at Mind and Nam, who were busy whispering over other dresses, Becca was content to wait for them to choose.

After an hour of combing through the racks, and Freen relenting and settling on the dress Becca had picked out, they left the shop with a bag each - save for Becca, who already had hers sorted out - and went to a nearby bistro for dinner.

Becca was tired after a day of busy planning for the charity gala, on top of her usual workload and the lingering symptoms of her cold that she couldn't seem to shake, and she went home afterwards. 

Freen went with her and they watched TV in bed, the curtains drawn and the lamps on as Becca pores over paperwork and Freen flipped through a borrowed book.

Friday was a blur and Becca was stuck at the office late, which meant that she didn't see Freen all day, or the morning after. 

She stayed at Becca's place a few times a week now, evidence of her scattered throughout the house in the signs of a spare toothbrush in the holder in the bathroom, one of her shirts found beneath Becca's bed where it had accidentally been kicked, and her preferred brand of oat milk in the fridge. 

It was a surprisingly easy adjustment, Becca barely even recognising that Freen spent nearly half of the week at her apartment, cooking dinner and watering her plants and working out in her gym in the basement. 

Somehow, it didn't feel like an intrusion; it felt like some life had been breathed into the house.

She missed her that Friday night, the bed feeling cold and empty with so much space to herself, and Becca woke on Saturday morning tired from a restless night.