Soon To Be, Miss Anderson

Taylor had always been supportive of her — right from childhood and still today. She had always been there to comfort Jessie and help in any way she could.

Jessie watched her friend finish the last of her champagne, marveling at the fire that had always burned in Taylor. She wasn’t able to finish college either, though she’d had the chance. Instead, she’d chased her dreams with the same stubborn passion she brought to everything. Even when her wealthy parents banned her from “tequila and parties” and threatened to cut her off, Taylor refused to listen. She wanted her name known for what she could create with her own hands — the drinks, the branding, the bold flavors — without leaning on her family’s money or name. She was a woman of her own, and she wouldn’t let anyone take that away from her. That fierce independence was what Jessie respected most.

Taylor’s parents were rich, yet she still believed going home would mean admitting failure — staring into the eyes of people who had always seen her as a disappointment, the girl who would never achieve anything without their help. Jessie had gently urged her to reconcile more than once, not because she agreed with Taylor’s parents, but because she believed forgiveness could open doors. Taylor, of course, remained as stubborn as ever.

“Do you remember that one time we snuck into your father’s library because our ball got stuck in there?” Jessie asked, laughter bubbling up.

Taylor joined in immediately. “Father was so mad at us! He banned us from playing with that ball. Banned us from doing anything that involved boys and told us to act like ladies instead.”

“You know what made me laugh the most?” Jessie continued, eyes sparkling. “When he brought that teacher home to teach us how to behave like proper ladies. Lilly ruined the lady’s dress on the first day and Father got so angry at your sister for that.”

“He eventually gave up,” Taylor said, shaking her head with a grin. “Said we were hopeless and would never learn to behave.”

Jessie exhaled, still smiling. “Those were really great times. I wish we could go back to when things were easy… when we could have whatever we wanted.” She shook the now-empty champagne bottle. Nothing came out. She set it down gently. “That was really good champagne.”

“Yes, it was,” Taylor agreed. “There’s a big party in Las Vegas next month, and I will be in charge of all the drinks. This apple sample is going to be showcased there. I want you to be there, Jess. This is my first huge gig.”

Jessie sighed.

“I know that look,” Taylor said, narrowing her eyes.

“What look?”

“You are backing out already. I can’t believe this. I thought we just talked about making him understand that you are a woman who wants her dreams to come true.”

“Calm down,” Jessie said quickly, raising her hands. “I’m not backing out. It is on a Friday, right?”

“Yes.”

“I have a gig that night too. That is why I made the face. And besides, this isn’t your first big gig. Every time you tell me about a gig, you say it is your first big one.”

“But I’m serious this time! It is really big. I need you there to show your support.”

Jessie hesitated, then nodded. “Alright. I will see what I can do about that day.”

“You are the best!” Taylor squealed. She moved closer and planted several quick kisses on Jessie’s cheeks. “I knew I could always count on you.”

Her phone suddenly beeped. Taylor glanced at the screen and groaned. “It’s management. I’m sorry, babe, but I have to go.” 

She hopped off the stool, and Jessie stood up too. 

Taylor grabbed her hand. “Good luck with your talk tonight. I know you can do it. You have always been the type of woman who gets what she wants, and this is what you want. I don’t want you to have any regrets, and I support whatever decision you make. Don’t forget — you are a classy, beautiful woman.” She lifted Jessie’s hand and playfully spun her around. “A short red dress would look amazing on you tonight. Have fun and don’t forget to tell me every single detail. Ciao!”

Taylor headed for the door and paused to kiss Jessie’s cheeks one last time.

Jessie shook her head, still smiling as she walked back into the kitchen. 

Red dress, huh?

She cleared the empty glasses, washed them, and carefully stored them in the cabinet. 

Jessie made her way to the bedroom after. The plan was already in place; Once they were married, she and Mark would move to a bigger place where they could raise their kids together. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she would get the life she had always wanted — a man who loved her and wanted to build a family with her.

She couldn’t stop smiling as she opened her closet.

She pulled out the short red dress she had bought for her next Friday gig and held it up in front of the mirror. It felt right for tonight. She decided on a sleek ponytail — it made her look younger. Silver earrings and a matching delicate chain completed the look.

Smokey eyes. Bold red lipstick — her source of confidence. Silver heels to match.

The woman staring back looked perfect. No flaws visible. No one would ever guess the fear churning inside her or that “perfect” Jessie she had carefully faked — a face, a body, and a name, but not quite her real heart.

She forced a bright smile. This was everything she wanted. The comfort Mark gave her. The future he promised.

Jessie arrived at Marcellus restaurant a few minutes before 8:00 p.m. The host welcomed her warmly and led her to the table she had reserved — on the top floor, right by the window. The city lights sparkled below like scattered diamonds. She loved beautiful views, and tonight she needed every bit of beauty she could hold onto.

She couldn’t stop the nervous smile as different scenarios played in her head. How Mark would react when she asked to change the list. How he would understand and support her dreams the way Taylor believed he should.

“Never be afraid to lose a man,” Taylor’s words kept ringing in her ears.

Her chest tightened. What if he changed his mind about marrying her once she spoke up?

She opened her purse, took out her red lipstick and a small mirror, and carefully reapplied it. Pressing her lips together, she checked her reflection one last time.

Then she saw him.

Mark walked toward the table, adjusting his tie. Jessie sat up straighter and flashed her brightest smile.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he took his seat. “Got caught up at work.”

“It’s alright,” Jessie replied, still smiling warmly.

Mark studied her for a moment, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Is that a new dress? I’ve never seen you wear anything like it before.”

Jessie nodded slowly. “It was meant for my singing gig on Friday.”

“Well, you look beautiful tonight.” He paused, letting his gaze linger. “No — don’t get me wrong. You’ve always looked beautiful… but tonight, you look perfect.”

Just the word she had been waiting to hear.

“Thank you, hun,” she said softly. “Should I order for you?”

Mark picked up the menu and scanned it. Jessie watched as his finger traced slowly over the options. She couldn’t spoil the dinner yet. This night was supposed to be happy — a night to finally set their wedding date. She would bring up the list and her dreams only after they had eaten.

She had learned long ago what being “perfect” required. Stay silent while eating. Speak only when necessary. Eat elegantly so others would notice. Walk gracefully, never slouch. And above all, never show your flaws. Hide them completely because perfection left no room for cracks.

Mark waved over the waiter. “I will take this and this,” he said, pointing at two items.

“That is all, sir?” the waiter asked.

Mark nodded. Jessie placed her own order, then watched the waiter disappear toward the kitchen.

He adjusted his tie and sat back, his eyes sweeping across the elegant dining room. “You picked a nice place,” he said.

“I saw in the reviews that the view from up here is the best,” Jessie replied brightly, showing all her teeth in the practiced smile she knew he liked. “Isn’t it perfect?”

"Perfect indeed soon to be Mrs. Anderson." 

Jessie blushed when he said those words. Mrs. Anderson sounded right in her ears. Imagine people calling her that. A girl that grew up in a slum finally being treated like someone who mattered.

“Thank you, Mr. Anderson,” she said softly, still glowing as she looked at him.

For a moment the spark between them felt real, warm and electric.

The food arrived. Jessie adjusted the napkin on her lap and smiled at Mark again. 

Her eyes flicked to his plate: tuna poke bowl and balsamic chicken with spinach salad. She had ordered sausage and shrimp gumbo, creamy chard, and mushroom stroganoff.

She almost spoke when she saw the tuna. She freezes. Mark had never liked tuna — not once in all their years together.