Lucy pulls a gown from the rack—a breathtaking shade of blush pink that catches the studio lights like spun sugar. Sequins glimmer faintly along the bodice, and layers of soft tulle spill down in airy folds that look straight out of a dream.
"Oh, look at this, Care," Lucy gushes, holding it up against Caroline with a grin. "This one's adorable! You're going to look amazing in it."
Tracy pauses mid-note on her clipboard, gives the dress a quick once-over, and nods approvingly. "Definitely her color."
I reach out and let my fingers trail over the fabric—silky, weightless, impossibly delicate. It reminds me of my prom dress.
Or the one that was supposed to be my prom dress.
Mom had it custom-made for me—soft pink, with a skirt that shimmered like spun sugar under the light. The satin bodice wastrimmed with tiny pearls, each one hand-sewn, and the layers of tulle fanned out in a swirl that made me feel like a princess just looking at it.
I must've unzipped that garment bag a hundred times just to touch the fabric, to imagine what it would feel like twirling across the dance floor in Zach's arms.
I remember standing in front of the mirror, hugging the dress to my chest, cheeks hurting from smiling too much—so giddy I could barely breathe. It was everything I'd ever dreamed of for that night, the kind of dress you don't just wear—you live a whole fairytale in.
...and back then, that was the dream—walking into prom on Zach's arm, the two of us all dressed up like something out of a teen movie.
I could already picture it: his easy grin, the way he'd tug at the stiff collar of his Nutcracker Prince uniform—the regal red coat with gold trim and polished boots—the full dramatic fantasy. The way his hand would find mine as we walked through the gym doors decked in fairy lights and streamers.
In my head, he'd spin me once, just so he could see the skirt flare out, all glitter and air and magic.
I remember imagining his face when he saw me in that dress—how he'd probably laugh, say something stupid like,"You look like a cupcake,"and then immediately blush because he meantbeautiful.
Yeah... that was the version of the night I used to replay a thousand times.
A ghost of a smile tugs at my lips, but it fades as quickly as it comes. Because I never got to wear it.
The memory lands like a small ache in my chest, sharp and unwelcome. I blink hard, shake my head lightly—no use digging that back up now. It's in the past.
Lucy's still talking beside me, holding the dress up to my shoulders and spinning me toward the mirror, and I force the corners of my mouth up again.
"It really is beautiful," I say quietly.
Lucy grabs another gown off the rack and holds it up against me, eyes sparkling like a five-year-old in a tiara shop. "You're seriously gonna look like a princess in this one," she gushes.
I laugh, shaking my head. "You're having way too much fun with this."
"Oh, absolutely." She gives me an exaggerated once-over.
Then her gaze flicks over my shoulder—and that sly grin spreads across her face. "Oh look, your prince charming's here."
"Huh?"
She jerks her chin toward the door.
I turn—and yep. There he is. Zach, all six-foot-three of him, leaning casually against the doorframe in his usual jeans and Ridgewater hoodie.
I try to play it cool, pretending my heart isn't doing its usual acrobat routine as I walk over like I'mtotallycalm and normal. Not at all losing my mind.
"Hey," I say softly.
"Hey, sugarplum." He winks, and behind me, I can practicallyfeelLucy's silent squeal.
"What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the rink?"
He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, I was. But I wanted to see you because... uh, I won't be able to later."
My brows knit together.
