I stepped inside the house, hauling my dress high above me in a black garment bag, and holing my shoes in a shoe box underneath my other arm and the bags that I retrieved of underwear and jewellery in my hand.
I struggle to open the door, with both of my arms, occupied. Just as I was about to drop the shoes, Emmet opened the front door for me.
“Let me help you,” Emmet says, opening the door wide and trying to take my shoes.
“Well, aren’t you lovely,” I tell him.
“I know,” he says, making me laugh.
He helps me take the shoes to my room and I open my closet to put my dress in.
“Is that for Zac’s birthday party?” Emmet asks.
“Yes.”
“Is it dressy?” he asks with his eyebrows raised.
“I think it is,” I respond.
“Okay, well, we went to his place last year and let me just say, if
