No regrets.
Smiling, I pick up the skirt and make my way out into the waiting room, to stand in front of what feels like a million mirrors and a sofa where all the girls are sitting. Looking down, watching each step I take, I step up onto the platform and pinch my eyes closed as I stand in front of them.
“Stunning,” Dakota whispers.
Flicking my gaze to meet hers, I watch as wetness fills her eyes. “It’s just so stunning,” she says, repeating herself. “Like it was made just for you.”
And the rest of the girls also dish out compliments. I guess this is the one. The fifth dress I’ve tried on today seems to be the charm. The sales associate makes a noise and rushes off. I don’t pay attention to where she’s going, but when Millie stands and walks toward me, my eyes widen.
“The dress is beautiful, Lainey. Is this what you want?” she asks.
I don’t have the heart to tell her that I don’t give a shit what I’m wearing because it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. And that is starting to slam into me like I’m standing in front of one of those automatic baseball pitching machines and the balls are just speeding toward me over and over, hitting me in my stomach and chest.
The associate returns, and I notice that she’s got netting in her hand. “You need to see it all put together, veil and everything,” she says, and the others ooh and aah.
I guess I’ll be seeing the dress with the veil and everything. I stand still as she manipulates my hair into a clip, then slides a comb through the front and fluffs this veil on my head, around my shoulders, and down my back. She also adds something to my waist, and I lift my hand to touch it at the same time I dip my chin and look at the crystal belt.
It’s too much, too sparkly.
I open my mouth to say that, but Millie must sense my unease. “I think we should go with no belt. I don’t think it needs any embellishments.”
The sales associate slips it off, then tells me to close my eyes. She wraps her hands around my shoulders and gently guides me around on the platform until I’m facing the mirrors.
“Keep them closed. I want you to see the grand reveal.”
I almost laugh, but she seems to be really into this, so I decide against being a smart-ass.
“Okay, you can open them now.”
Inhaling a deep breath, I hold it for a moment, then let it out slowly as I open my eyes to take in my reflection, veil and all. It’s beautiful. And Millie is right; it doesn’t need anything else.
The sales associate is talking, but I don’t hear anything she’s saying. All I can do is focus on myself, on my reflection, and then, for just a moment, I allow myself to imagine a man standing beside me.
The man who instantly pops into my head is the one I should not be thinking of. But Gunnar Lund, in his jeans that fit like a glove, boots, black button-down shirt, and his club cut, appears standing beside me, with his now short hair, his blue eyes, and just a touch of scruff on his face.
That’s who I want to marry.
Him.
It’ll never be him, though, and I accept that… I promise I do. It doesn’t mean my body, my imagination has it all figured out yet. My brain knows, but nothing else has caught up yet, probably because we keep having out-of-this-world sex. Because he makes me come twice at night and once every morning. Because we can’t keep our hands off one another…
I would look amazing next to him in this dress, though. A wave of sadness slides through me because it’ll never happen.
“Can I walk out with it today?” I ask.
“You can…” she says, her brows furrowed.
“Then I’ll take it.”
And that is that.
That. Is. That.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
LAINEY
I can feeltheir eyes on me, watching me, staring at me as the waiter sets down our drinks. They’re going to pounce the minute he walks away. I think about asking him what the specials are again, trying to buy myself some time, but I don’t. When he does turn and walk away, they do exactly that.