“Do you regret it? The boys. Any of it.”
“No.” The answer is immediate and solid. “Not for a second. I don’t regret it. Roman is who he is. I know what that means. He can protect them from Vitaly. He can put walls between us and whatever that asshole thinks he can do to us.”
“And you think that’s truly possible? That he can protect you and the boys?”
I hear the desperation in her voice. I feel it in my bones. “I have to believe it. It’s the best chance I have to protect them. They saved me once already.” I look at the line on my jaw in the light. “When I found out I was pregnant, the doctor said pregnancy hormones can change how you heal, and the scar softened fast. It was ugly. Now it’s a thin line. That’s thanks to them.” I swallow. “By marrying Roman, I save them. Circle of life, I suppose. They saved me from a nasty scar. I’ll save them from their nasty brother.”
“Stand,” she says, tapping my shoulder. “Time to dress.”
Behind the room divider, everything is white and elastic. I hang the dress where I can reach it without dragging it over the floor. Then I set the garter on the chair and breathe once to clear my head. Underclothes first. I step into them and pull them up by inches. The fabric is cold from the air-conditioning and then warm with me. Stockings next. I sit and roll them on carefully, matching the seams, smoothing out the fabric. The garter is last, a band that means nothing and everything, and I slide it into place with two fingers.
“You good?” my mother asks.
“Almost.” I pull the corset around myself and hook it without swearing, then thread the ribbons and pull until I feel held, not caged. I stand and check the mirror. I look like a woman who made a choice, not a woman being carried.
My mother lifts the dress off the hanger and angles it so it doesn’t knock into the screen. “Ready.”
I hold the bodice and step in. The fabric rises and settles. The skirt falls and remembers its shape. I wiggle a little to get the waist where it needs to sit. “Zip, please.”
Her hands are careful. She works the zipper up and stops once to smooth a fold. I feel the dress close along my spine, a final line. She hooks the little eyes at the top and steps back.
“Turn around,” she says.
I do. The dress is simple and clean. No jewels, no lace, just good seams and a square neckline that leaves my collarbones bare. I check the mirror again. The dress sits on me perfectly. By all looks, I’m ready.
My heart says I’m anything but.
But that doesn’t matter.
My mother is quiet. That scares me more than anything. “You look like yourself. I was afraid you would disappear in this place. I know it’s only been a few days, but you haven’t disappeared. Even in that gown, you look like you.”
“I’m not going to disappear.” I straighten the straps and smooth the sides. “He promised me that part.”
“You know promises are cheap.” She moves to the chair and sits, then immediately stands again like the chair offended her. “Tell me what you like about him, because I don’t trust any of this yet.”
“He listens. When I told him no guns near the babies, he didn’t balk. He agreed without hesitation, even though I know that guns are everywhere in his world. He’s gentle with the boys. He’s notperforminggentle. He has a father’s instinct with them, and that’s valuable to me.”
“And with you?”
I draw a long breath and let it out slow. “I feel safe with him. Not because he’s dangerous, though he is. I don’t deny that. But because he doesn’t lie to me. He doesn’t hide things from me. He’d rather let me know everything, then let me decide what to do. I know the marriage thing is fast and he was pushy about it, but he’s also right. This is the best way for all of us to stay safe.”
My mother exhales. “That’s a start.”
“It is.” We finish hair the way we always finish hair—her at the back, me at the front, no fuss. I pin the last piece behind my ear. She pins the other side. And then, we’re done.
One more step to the aisle.
“Do you really want to do this?” She asks it at the exact moment when backing out would be possible and the exact moment when it would hurt the most.
“Yes.” The word comes out steady. “I want to protect them. I want a house where I can sleep.” My throat tightens. I swallow it down. It’s my wedding day, not a day for emotions.
She studies my face. “Okay.”
Someone knocks gently. “Ms. Harbor?” Tanner’s voice, calm. “Ten minutes.”
“Thank you,” my mother calls. She looks at me again. “Shoes.”
I slip into them. I walk once across the room, then back, to make sure the dress doesn’t fight me. It doesn’t. The monitor shows two green lines, then a light blink when one boy shifts and gives up on it. The sound doesn’t change.
