ALERA

I'm standing in front of the mirror, turning a little to the side to admire the blue, flowy shirt dress that somehow fits like it was made for me. The fabric hugs all the right places, and I still can't get over how Dante managed to get my size so perfectly, one again. Not that I’ll ever ask.

I tug at the hem and smooth it out before reaching for my sandals. As I buckle them, I think about his mother. She’s nothing like I expected. She's so warm and easygoing. Her ...