An Eye For Illusion: A Private Investigator Romantic Suspense: (Dunn Security Group Book 2)

Chapter 24

Iwant a hole to open and swallow me whole. Maybe a tornado could come through to sweep me far, far away from this place so I can never look back.

Am I being a little dramatic?

Maybe…

Do I give a shit?

Not in the least.

“Honey, you don’t like it?” my father asks from the pink velvet couch sitting in front of the little runaway the bridal store has set up.

I loathe it, but I can’t tell him that. I’ve hated every dress I’ve put on, and it isn’t because they aren’t gorgeous or flattering. No, I hate them because every time I look in the mirror, I picture myself walking down the aisle toward Elliott.

My stomach rolls at the mere thought, which makes picking out a wedding dress ridiculously fucking hard.

I plaster on a fake smile and shrug. “I don’t know. I just don’t have that feeling, you know?”

“You’ve said that about the last twenty dresses. Maybe you just aren’t the kind of girl to fall in love with a dress?” His tone is so nonchalant that I know he means nothing by it, but his question is like a punch to the gut.

I start to wonder if I’m broken because all I’ve felt the whole day is numbness and anger. A large part is because Elliott isn’t the man I want to marry, but I thought I’d at least like some of the dresses. That I would feel pretty.

Bridge gave me a pep talk this morning about trying to enjoy the day and have fun trying on lavish dresses with an endless flow of champagne and chocolate. I wanted so badly to do just that, to make this day bearable, but my father’s remark is a stark reminder that I’ve failed miserably.

“Maybe I’m not,” I whisper as I do another spin in the chic A-line silk dress.

The train is long, but the show stopping part is the plunging back. Under normal circumstances, I think I’d love it. However, that might not be the case if I’m as broken as I suspect.

Bridge cuts a look over at my father before turning back to me. “That’s nonsense. You will have that feeling. We just haven’t found the one yet.” I adore her for trying to brighten the mood.

I turn and look at the back of the dress in the mirror one more time. It’s pretty, but I feel nothing but a vast void of emotion toward the beautiful material.

The poor sales consultant looks completely lost on how to help me or what dress to pull next as she guides me off the runway. “How about we go back to the dressing room and regroup?”

Regroup? How about just calling this a loss and cutting me loose? I wouldn’t blame her one bit. We’ve already been here for well over two hours, and we aren’t any closer to nailing down a style of dress as we were when I first walked in. If I were her, I would fire me.

“The wedding is just around the corner, sweetheart,” Dad pipes up.

Oh, I know. You don’t have to remind me yet again.

“Mmhmm,” is all I say as I quickly walk back to the changing room and throw myself inside. I collapse on the chair in the corner, and the overwhelming urge to run or scream overtakes me.

I stand and frantically try to escape from the beautiful but suffocating dress. I want it off, and I want it off right this moment because it feels like the walls of the small changing room are closing in on me.

My breaths speed up, and my skin heats to an uncomfortable temperature.

“Forgive me, Ms. Foster. Do you need me to help you?” Lydia, the kind woman who’s been helping me all morning, asks as she comes in the room.

“I need you to get me the fuck out of this thing!”

She startles at my tone and the desperation that must be apparent on my face. “Yes. Yes, of course. Let me see.”

She quickly releases the button at the bottom of the plunging back and lowers the small zipper so I can slide it past my ass. I waste no time stepping out of it as I try to calm myself.

“Jade, are you okay?”

I turn around to see Bridge in the doorway with concern and sadness in her eyes. The look on her face is the tipping point. Water collects in the corner of my eyes, and I blink furiously to keep them from spilling over.

“Oh, babe.”

“Don’t ‘oh, babe’ me. I’m fine. Everything is fine. I just need a minute,” I bite out.

I refuse to fucking cry. Not here, and not over Elliott Moore. I won’t do it.

Bridge smiles pleasantly at Lydia. “Can you give us just a moment? Maybe take Mr. Foster another scotch and tell him we’ll be right out?”

“Of course. Please let me know if you need anything,” Lydia says before stepping out of the room and closing the door softly behind her.

“What’s wrong?” Bridge asks.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong!Everything is wrong. Nothing feels right. That’s the problem.”

She raises her eyebrows at my tone, and I immediately feel bad for raising my voice at her. Even knowing the last thing I want is to marry Elliott, she’s still here supporting me. This isn’t her fault. It’s mine. I’m the reason I’m in this situation. Not her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

She walks over and wraps her arms around my bare shoulders. I’m in a nude thong with pasties on my breasts, but I don’t care. I need her hug more than anything right now. I squeeze her back tightly, soaking in all the comfort she’s willing to give me because right now I feel so lost and depressed.

“Is this more about Elliott or that your mom isn’t here?” Bridge asks.

I close my eyes as her question slowly sinks in. I haven’t thought much about my mother not being part of this experience because she’s been gone for most of my life. She missed almost all my major milestones. My first crush in grade school, first kiss in junior high, the first boy who broke my heart, my high school graduation, then college. Working at Dad’s business, and my first big promotion.

She missed all of it, so would this be any bigger or more painful? Each of those moments were a little dimmer because she wasn’t there, but I didn’t think I’d feel this way today.

A single tear escapes my left eye and rolls down my cheek, landing on Bridge’s shoulder.

“I think it would be more painful to have her here knowing this marriage is a sham. That I’ll disappoint both of them. It’s bad enough I’ll break Dad’s heart. At least I won’t break hers, too.”

Bridge rubs small circles across my back, and it takes her a moment to respond. “First, you won’t break your father’s heart. Elliott will. Don’t carry blame that isn’t yours to carry. Also, I think it’s less about your mom being here in typical overbearing mom-mode and more that you wish she was here as your ally. Family who would understand you and help you navigate this whole mess.”

I gulp as her words sink in, and I realize Bridge is right. Damn, she knows me so well. I chuckle at how brilliant she is. Then again, she’s a psychologist, so I guess it would make sense that she would know what I’m really upset about before I do.

“How do you do that?” I ask in astonishment as I pull back and scan her face.

She smiles and shrugs one shoulder. “It’s why I get paid the big bucks.”

Her answer has another chuckle escaping my lips, but I still don’t know how I’m supposed to do this. How I’m supposed to go out there and act like I’m happy and everything is totally normal. My mother will never come back, and the wedding date is approaching fast, whether I want it or not.

“How do I do this?” Bridge seems to have all the answers today, so I hope she has this one, too.

“I want you to let it all go. Stop picturing Elliott standing at the end of the aisle, or the big church, or all the people who will be there.” She reaches up to run her hand along my cheek. “I want you to shut it all out and pretend it’s just you, me, and your mom here. Then I want you to pick a dress that makes you feel invincible. Like you could take on the whole damn world and not even break a sweat.”

She drops her hand and steps back. I open my eyes, and at that moment, I’ve never been so grateful for another person. She’s my best friend, my rock, and my sanity. Without her, I don’t think I could get through this. I vow right here that I will always be there for her. No questions asked.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“That’s what best friends are for.”