Chapter 1 #2
The velvet curtain flutters open, and Elsie bursts in, holding a dress in front of her like it’s a sacred offering. “Um, it looks like there’s been a, uh, slight mix up with the sizing,” she stammers, clutching the fabric tighter. “It might fit a little differently than expected.”
I blink. “I sent in my measurements…”
“I know!” she says quickly, nodding too hard. “Totally my fault, probably. The system’s been glitchy and—” She bites her lip, hesitating. “Or it could be the dress. Sometimes they run…unforgiving.”
She doesn’t say it outright, but I hear the undercurrent: Maybe you’ve changed. Maybe you’ve gotten bigger.
And yeah—it stings a little.
Elsie’s chest once again flushes blotchy pink. “I didn’t mean—I just— Ugh, I’m so sorry. I can help you into it, I swear. I should have handled this better.”
I let out a slow breath, softening my expression. “It’s okay.” I take the dress from her, steady. “Seriously. Not a big deal.”
Her eyes dart to my waist, then back to my face. “Are you sure? I—I didn’t mean to offend—”
“You didn’t,” I say, more firmly this time. “Bodies change. Sizes change. That’s not something you need to tiptoe around like it’s contagious.”
She looks like she might cry, so I offer her a small smile. “I’ve got it from here.”
Biting her lip, she hangs the dress on a hook before scurrying out with a mumbled apology.
I take a breath, letting the air cool the flush creeping up my neck. I’m not ashamed of my body. But that doesn’t mean moments like this don’t still chip away at me, little by little.
I set down my drink and glance at the garment.
Powder blue. An alarm bell goes off in the back of my mind.
Wasn’t Mackenzie’s custom wedding gown also this color?
I should remember, but getting fired after spending ten years working for the same company and thinking that there was a chance my life was finally turning into something I wanted has really fucked with my brain power.
My phone vibrates again, and I know before picking it up that it’s Amanda and that I can’t keep ignoring her video calls.
“You didn’t text when you landed, Gemma.
I had to check your astrocartography map and pull three cards just to make sure your plane wasn’t going to crash.
Do you know how unstable your Mars line is over the Southeast right now? It’s like cosmic turbulence.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means—” She shoves another bite of noodles into her mouth, talking around it.
“I was this close to calling the airport and demanding your flight number so I could channel a bubble of protective energy around your whole plane to keep you safe. Instead, I settled for burning mugwort and drawing a protective rune in vegan eyeliner on my bathroom mirror. You’re welcome. ”
“You are completely unhinged.” I try to laugh it off, but guilt prickles over my skin. I should have texted. I normally would have. Before I started floating in this panicked, directionless limbo. Before I started avoiding Amanda because she actually sees me.
I bit the tip of my nail, watching the candle flames dance. “I was going to. I just—”
“You didn’t want to talk to me.”
“That’s not true.”
She tilts her chin.
“Okay. It’s kind of true.” I exhale, rubbing my forehead. “I just…didn’t know what to say.”
“Gemma…” It’s not an accusation. It’s not even pity. It’s just…knowing. And that makes my stomach hurt.
My vision blurs. My chest tightens. I’m not crying. I refuse to cry. Wiping at my eyes, I turn away from the phone and reach for the dress, needing something physical to focus on.
Amanda, mercifully, lets it go.
“So,” she says, too casual. “Have you seen him yet?”
I freeze, dress half-unzipped.
“Who?” I ask like I don’t already know.
Amanda scoffs. “Come on. There’s only one man in that entire state you’re avoiding.”
She’s right. But I wish she wasn’t.
I force a shrug, still avoiding the phone screen. “Nope. Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure.”
“Good,” she says. “Because you don’t need that temptation in your life.”
I snort. “Temptation?”
“That’s what he is, isn’t he? Not just the ex you can’t shake. He’s the promise of something bigger, something better. He makes you feel like you could have more. Be more.”
I hate that she’s right. Again. Because that’s the problem.
Alder isn’t just an old flame. He’s success personified.
He’s what I lost, what I need, what I can’t afford to chase but don’t know how to stop wanting.
And if I see him again? If he so much as looks at me the way he used to—like I’m the only thing in the room that matters?
I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk away.
Amanda watches me. “Gem, you do get that you’re a complete badass without him?”
“Of course.” I try to smile. “And I told you—I’m done with him.”
“You sure? Because you don’t seem to understand how much you absolutely do not need him.
” Amanda arches a brow. “I worry about you, Gem. I’ve been on the other end of the phone when you and Alder go from together to not.
I’ve listened to you cry and promise yourself that you’re not going to get pulled back in by all his promises or let him make you doubt yourself or feel like you’re not good enough.
And yet”—she gestures at me, waving her fork like a magician’s wand—“you’re renting a car you can’t afford, staying in a hotel you don’t need, and avoiding my calls like I’m the IRS. ”
I groan. “You are so dramatic.”
Amanda narrows her eyes. “Is it dramatic if I’m right?”
I don’t answer. We both know the truth.
Coming back here means facing him. And no matter how much I tell myself I’m past this, past him, past what he represents…
There’s still a tiny, desperate part of me that wants to see him. That wants to believe I could still have that life. That wants to stop struggling and finally take a break.
“Let’s get through this fitting, and then we can figure out the rest of my life.”
Amanda sighs but lets me shift the conversation.
I set the phone down, angling it so she can give a full commentary as I slip out of my outfit and into the baby blue bridesmaid dress.
The fabric shimmers under the candlelight, catching the flames like water. The lace-up corset back is pretty, or at least, it was before I had to wrestle myself into it like I was wrangling a wild animal into church clothes. I’m billowing out of the top.
“This dress is a problem,” I mutter.
I twist, trying to reach the zipper and the laces, but the material refuses to cooperate. The pressure builds. From the corset. From my failures. From the weight of pretending I still have it all together.
I tug again, but the more I fight it, the worse it gets.
I can’t breathe.
The air thickens. The candles flicker. The room closes in.
And suddenly, it’s not just about the dress. It’s about this town. This wedding. The fact that everyone here thinks I’m a success when in less than a month, I’ll have nothing.
I yank on the fabric, but it won’t budge.
The flames jump. The air presses in. The walls tilt.
Amanda’s voice filters in from the phone, tinny and concerned. “Gem, babe, you okay? You look like you’re about to faint.”
“It’s just the candles.” I wipe the sweat from my forehead. “It’s a fucking furnace in here.”
The flames jump again. The shadows twist. My pulse hammers against my ribs.
I back away from the mirror, the hairs rising on the nape of my neck. There’s something in this room. Watching. Waiting.
Goose bumps rise along my arms as my gaze swings around. The fire grows higher, taller, casting long, dancing shadows on the walls, and for a moment, I swear the room darkens except for those blazing flames.
My breath quickens, and Amanda’s voice crackles through the phone, a distant, hollow sound I barely register. I sway on my feet, dizzy, disoriented as the flames reach toward me, higher, hotter, pulling me in—
“Gemma!” Amanda’s shriek yanks me out of the trance.
I blink, my senses snapping back into place, and that’s when I feel it.
Heat.
My hair. My hair is on fire.
Panic surges through me. I scream, slapping at the flames as they lick up the end of my ponytail.
I scramble out of the dressing room and finally manage to smother the flames when I crash straight into him.