Her mother sat down next to the dress, touching its silky fabric. “I forgot I had this,” she said in a small voice. “I wore it to a Hollis benefit when Byron finally got tenure. It was the same night you slept over at Alison DiLaurentis’s house for the first time. We had to run out and get you a sleeping bag because you didn’t have one, remember?”
Aria sank down in the striped wing chair in the corner of the room. She remembered the first sleepover at Ali’s house perfectly. It was right after Ali had approached Aria at the Rosewood Day charity drive and asked for her help in sorting through the luxury items. Aria’s first instinct had been that Ali had done it on a dare. Just the week before, Ali had asked Chassey Bledsoe to try a spritz of a new perfume she’d discovered. It turned out that the “perfume” was actually murky, poop-filled water from the Rosewood duck pond.
Ella cradled the dress in her lap. “So I guess you know about Byron’s—that Meredith’s…” She cupped her hands near her stomach, miming a pregnant belly.
Aria bit her lip and nodded silently, her heart aching. This was the first time Ella had mentioned Meredith’s condition. She’d tried her hardest to steer Ella away from all pregnancy references in the past month, but it was foolish to think she could avoid it forever.
Ella sighed, her jaw tense. “Well, I guess it’s time to create a new memory in this dress. It’s time to move on.” She glanced at Aria. “How about you? Have you moved on?”
Aria raised an eyebrow. “From Byron?”
Ella pushed her wavy hair over her shoulder. “No. I meant your teacher. Mr…. Fitz.”
“You…know about that?”
Ella traced her finger down the dress’s side zipper. “Your dad told me.” She smiled uncomfortably. “I guess Mr. Fitz went to Hollis. Bryon heard something about him being asked to leave Rosewood Day…because of you.” She glanced at Aria again. “I wish you would’ve come to me about this.”
Aria stared across the room at a large abstract painting Ella had done of Aria and Mike floating through outer space. She hadn’t reached out to Ella at the time because Ella hadn’t been answering her calls.
Ella’s eyes lowered sheepishly, as if she’d just realized this too. “He didn’t…take advantage of you, did he?”
Aria shook her head, hiding behind her hair. “No. It was pretty innocent.”
She thought about the few times she’d actually spent with Ezra—the dark, sticky make-out session in the bathroom at Snooker’s, a kiss in his school office, a few stolen hours at his apartment in Old Hollis. Ezra had been the first guy Aria thought she loved, and it had seemed that he loved her, too. When he’d told Aria to look him up in a few years, Aria had figured that meant he would wait for her. But someone who was waiting for her would have called every once in a while, right? She wondered if she’d been really naïve.
Aria took a deep breath. “Maybe we weren’t right for each other. But I might’ve met someone new.”
“Really?” Ella sat down on the bed and began to remove her slippers and socks. “Who?”
“Just…someone,” Aria said lightly. She didn’t want to jinx things. “I’m not sure about it yet.”
“Well, that’s great.” Ella touched the top of Aria’s head so lovingly, tears came to Aria’s eyes. They were finally talking. Maybe things were becoming normal between them again.
Ella lifted up the dress by its hanger and carried it in the bathroom. As she shut the door and turned on the tap, the doorbell rang.
“Shit.” Ella poked her head out of the bathroom door, her smoky eyes wide. “He’s early. Will you get it?”
“Me?” Aria squeaked.
“Tell him I’ll be down in a second.” Ella slammed the door shut.
Aria blinked. The doorbell rang again. She rushed over to the bathroom. “What should I do if he’s really ugly?” she whispered loudly through the door. “What if he has hair growing out of his ears?”
“It’s only one date, Aria,” Ella laughed.
Aria squared her shoulders and walked to the foot of the stairs. She could see a shadowy figure shifting back and forth through the mottled glass of the front door.
Taking a deep breath, she whipped the door open. A guy with short hair stood on the stoop. For a moment, Aria couldn’t speak.
“…Xavier?” she finally squeaked.
“Aria?” Xavier narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Are…you…?”
“Hello?” Ella glided down the stairs behind them, fastening a hoop earring in her ear. The teal dress fit her perfectly, and her dark hair spilled down her back. “Hi!” Ella chirped to Xavier, grinning widely. “You must be Wolfgang!”
“Oh God, no.” Xavier’s hand flew to his mouth. “That’s my profile name.” His eyes darted from Aria to Ella. A smile bloomed across his lips, almost like he was trying not to laugh. Standing under the light in the foyer, he looked quite a bit older—probably in his early thirties, at least. “My name is Xavier, actually. And you’re Ella?”
“Yes.” Ella put her hand on Aria’s shoulder. “And this is my daughter, Aria.”
“I know,” Xavier said slowly.
Ella looked confused. “We met on Sunday,” Aria quickly interjected, still not able to shake the baffled tone from her voice. “At that gallery opening. Xavier was one of the artists.”