Westley You Are Late Chapter 12
“I just want to try it on. It’s not like I’m stealing it from you.”
When I stood my ground, her crying intensified.
“Westley, what is wrong with your girlfriend? We’ve shared everything since we were kids. Now I can’t even touch a dress?”
That day, Westley’s expression had been just as dark as it was now.
For the first time ever, he’d used a tone of command with me.
“Take it off.”
I clutched the silk skirt, looking at him in disbelief.
“This dress was made for me. It’s my size.”
The moment Sofia saw Westley was on her side, her wails grew louder.
“He hasn’t even proposed, and she’s already acting like the dress is hers. If you two actually get married, is she going to forbid you from seeing your friends, too?”
At the time, none of them knew Westley had already proposed.
One night, after a little too much wine, he’d dropped to one knee and slipped the pull-tab from a soda can onto my finger.
His eyes, full of sincerity, had met mine. “I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”
When I didn’t immediately say yes, he’d simply refused to get up.
Defeated, I had finally agreed.
He’d been so happy, like a little boy, spinning me around before lowering his head to kiss me.
Caught up in the moment, he had even whispered, “From now on, you only wear a wedding dress for me.”
“Only the one I have made for you.”
I’d agreed to everything.
Less than six months later, he’d forgotten every word.
Sofia liked the dress, so he wanted me to give it up.
“It’s just a dress. I’ll have the designer make you another one.”
Later, one phone call from Sofia was all it took to make him leave me.
And later still, he gave her the security code to our apartment.