The Ex-Husband of Alice Langley

22

PARIS SWIFT-KELCE
I spin around, admiring myself in the mirror. My dress flows perfectly, hugging my curves in all the right places. My bangs fall softly across my forehead while the rest of my hair is pulled back into a sleek bun, accented with tiny braids woven through it. Mom helped me pull this look together, and I can't lie—it's perfection. A date with Liam calls for nothing less. The thought of him makes my stomach flutter, even though we've been together for six months now.

I try to ignore the small pit of envy that resurfaces when I think about Alice. The way she looked so much like Mom when we first met—it stung. I know it's ridiculous, but it didn't feel fair, like I was losing something that was mine. So, in a fit of impulsivity, I took control. I booked the appointment, and two hours and several hundred dollars later, my hair was dyed the same shade of blonde Mom had when she was my age. It was a splurge, but one I couldn't resist. Now, it's flawless. The same golden hue, silky and vibrant. A spitting image.

I spritz on my favorite perfume—something floral but not too sweet—and take one final glance in the mirror. Perfection. I grab my Louis Vuitton crossbody, a guilty pleasure that I didn't need but couldn't resist. That little voice of reason in the back of my mind tells me that I definitely have a spending problem, especially when it comes to luxury items, but it's in my DNA. Dad's the same way.

Not that it matters—we can afford it. My family's got money. Lots of it. Enough to cover things like my veneers, the blonde highlights, and even my nose job. That was non-negotiable. Growing up, my nose was the one thing I hated about myself. It was massive, impossible to ignore. People would say it was fine, but I could see through their fake reassurances. Fixing it was like cutting off a weight I had been carrying for years. Could I have gone to therapy instead? Maybe. But surgery was quicker. Easier.

Mom knocks softly before peeking into my room, her eyes bright. "Is my girl ready for her big date?" she asks, stepping inside.

"Almost. I can't decide which shoes to wear," I say, glancing at the two pairs laid out on the floor.

"Show me," she says, crossing her arms with an expectant smile.

I hold up the first pair, Chanel slingbacks. They're gorgeous, made of black silk with delicate bows on the front. "These," I say, lifting the shoes, "or..." I grab the Gucci pumps, black with crystal chains draped over the toes. Both pairs cost more than some people's rent, but the quality and craftsmanship are impossible to resist.

"Chanel. Definitely the Chanel," she says with confidence. "It's classier for tonight. Save the pumps for your one-year anniversary."

I smirk. "You think we'll make it that long?"

She laughs softly. "You're already halfway there. Six months is no small feat."

"He should be here soon," I say, sitting on the edge of my bed to slip on the heels. They fit perfectly, like they were made for me.

Mom lingers, biting her lip as if she's thinking about something. Finally, she speaks. "So... six months, huh? Have you... I mean, most couples—"

I cut her off immediately. "Mom, please stop."

"I just want to make sure you know, if it's your first time—"

"I've had sex before, okay!" I snap, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice. "I'm not London."

"Well, London's asexual... and he doesn't date." Her voice trails off awkwardly.

"Exactly!" I throw my hands up, exasperated. "Liam and I haven't had sex, if that's what you're trying to ask."

There's a beat of silence as she processes that, biting her lip again. "Six months... You're on the pill, right?"

"Jesus Christ, Mom!" I groan, feeling my face heat up. "I'm a doctor! I know how safe sex works!"