Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Sophie
Just then, the front door opens, and a man in a suit strides toward us, his smile wide and inviting.
Did Lucian figure I’d run and took steps to avoid that?
Derek exits the vehicle to help us out, and I am swept up in the moment.
“Sophie Langford! We’ve been expecting you.” He introduces himself and adds, “I have champagne.”
And now I think I need it.
He shakes hands with Piper, and I barely notice that he’s effortlessly moving us inside the building.
“You’ll have the whole salon to yourselves for an hour.”
Randy ushers us deeper into the salon, past a low velvet chaise and a trio of full-length mirrors arranged in a gentle curve.
“And you’ll have your own consultant, Hannah.”
As if by magic, she appears from a side alcove carrying a silver tray—two flutes of pale champagne already beaded with condensation.
We both accept the flutes, and Piper clinks her glass to mine without waiting for a toast. “Let’s do this.”
Randy gestures toward the wide pedestal at the center of the mirrors. “Sophie, tell me—what kind of bride are we dressing today? Romantic? Modern?”
“Do you have any potato sacks?” The words slip out before I can stop them, flat and honest, the kind of half joke that isn’t really a joke at all.
Randy grins. “This is going to be the most fun I have ever had with a bride.”
And it’s going to be one of the least fun days I’ve ever experienced.
“So you don’t have a specific direction or style you’d like to try first?”
I’ve spent the last eight years refusing to consider a wedding day. “Honestly? No.”
Randy studies me for a moment, and his gaze moves over the clothes I chose for myself this morning, taking in details with the same concentration I use when a client tells me something they don’t realize is important.
“All right.” He nods once, apparently coming to some conclusion. “Let’s narrow down your style.”
While Randy and Hannah disappear, I sink onto the velvet chaise and pull out my phone. I promised Mom I would call, and suddenly I need to see her face more than I need champagne.
She answers after two rings.
“Sweetheart.”
The sight of her steals my breath.
She’s sitting in the wide chair in her room, a soft lavender blanket across her lap and the oxygen line tucked beneath her nose. She looks tired. Too thin. But she’s smiling, and I appreciate that so much that I get teary-eyed.
“We’re shopping for your wedding dress?”
“We are.”
Her smile widens. “I wish I was there.”
The words press into the center of my chest. How little does she realize this isn’t a wedding I want. I’d never do this if it wasn’t for her.
But seeing her happiness is worth everything.
A rack with dresses is wheeled toward us, and Randy makes a show of introducing himself to my mom. “We’re going to need your help,” he tells her.
“I’d love that.”
Randy selects an armful of ivory fabric.
When he beckons me, I hand off my phone to Piper.
Randy has me step up onto the pedestal, and he holds the dress in front of me.
Critically, I survey myself in the mirror.
There are layers of tulle, tiny crystals scattered across the bodice, and enough material to suffocate me.
I shake my head. “It’s…” I wrinkle my nose. “Too much.”
Randy laughs. “You didn’t even give it ten seconds.”
“Which would be nine more than it deserves.” Piper lifts her glass in support of my decision.
My mom laughs, and the sound is so joyful that I almost forget that she’s halfway around the world, fighting for her life. For a single moment, life is what it’s supposed to be.
“In that case, let’s go a different direction.”
The next gown is nothing like the first.
And I like it enough to actually try it on.
Piper chats with my mom while Hannah leads me to a dressing room. While I change into a monogrammed robe, she prepares the dress.
This one skims my body, not too tightly but in a flattering way.
There’s lace, but not much, just enough to soften the neckline and sleeves. Nothing sparkles. Nothing billows. There isn’t a single crystal threatening to blind anyone from fifty feet away.
While I study myself critically, Hannah finishes with the dozens of buttons, then steps aside.
For a moment, I don’t move.
I don’t want to look.
Which is absurd. It’s fabric. Expensive fabric, certainly, but still nothing more than something I’m going to wear for a few hours before Lucian and Caleb undoubtedly—
No.
I am absolutely not finishing that thought.
Hannah trailing behind me, I return to the area with the pedestal. Piper leaps up, and I hear my mom exclaim through the phone.
Reluctantly I look in the mirror.
And I exhale.
The dress is beautiful.
Worse, I look beautiful in it, even though my eyes are wary, and my mouth is pressed into a disbelieving line.
“Well?” Piper asks.
“I don’t hate it.”
Randy puts a hand over his heart. “From you, I’m accepting that as unqualified enthusiasm.”
Mom is quiet.
When I look at the phone, her eyes are shining.
“Oh, Sophie.”
My throat tightens as unexpected emotion swamps me. “Mom! Don’t cry.”
“I’m your mother. I’m allowed.”
So that I can hold my feelings back, I turn back toward the mirrors.
There was a time when I dreamed of shopping for a gown with my mom and finding the perfect one to walk down the aisle toward my happily ever after.
Piper comes to stand beside me, making me ruthlessly shove aside my childish fantasy.
“You really do look gorgeous, Soph.”
“Piper is right,” my mother agrees.
“Is this your dress?” Randy asks.
I study myself again, critically turning this way and that.
It’s only a dress, I tell myself.
Liking it doesn’t mean I want the wedding.
And it definitely doesn’t mean I forgive Lucian and Caleb for backing me into this impossible corner.
And it certainly doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to becoming their wife.
“Sophie?” Randy prompts a second time. “Is this your dress?”