* * *
“I feel ridiculous,” I say from the changing room. “This is so stupid, Dylan.”
“Do you have it on?”
I can tell that he’s right next to the curtain. If I reached out, I could probably pull him inside the changing room with me. That could be fun.
I refocus as I take a look in the mirror. I always loved vintage, and this dress fits the bill perfectly. The beading on the neckline is dainty and subtle, and the ivory and champagne color blend is gorgeous. It’s a romantic antique-style gown with lace trim, long illusion sleeves, and a deep V-neckline. It has a princess feel to it—but not Disney, more like Princess Grace. It doesn’t feel boho but 1940s vintage, which is exactly what I wanted. And the satin lining is so comfortable; I could actually imagine wearing this dress for an entire day and not wanting to tear it off my body.
So. It’s still a beautiful dress. The difference now is a beautiful guy is standing about two feet away from me, and he says he loves me. Which makes this wedding gown feel a whole lot different and a whole lot scarier.
My one relief is that the saleswoman isn’t the same one who waited on me last time.
I step out from the changing room and right into Dylan’s arms. He hugs me back.
“This is nice,” he says into my hair. “But I can’t see the dress very well.”
“I know.” I pull away from him and walk up onto the platform with all the mirrors staring at me from every direction. “Well, here it is.”
Dylan stares at me for an uncomfortably long time without speaking. The silence grows so extended that I start to walk off the platform and back into the dressing room where I can hide my face.
This was a stupid idea, but I already knew that. He’s the one who insisted on coming here.
“Jasalie, wait.” Dylan catches me by the wrist and walks back up onto the platform with me. He turns us toward the front mirror.
I stare at the reflection of the two of us, him on my right, slightly behind me. He’s got on jeans and a sweater, and I’m wearing a formal gown, but it doesn’t change the picture—we look perfect together.
“What do you think?” he says in my ear.
I swallow hard and look down. “Don’t know.”
“I do,” he says, still in my ear. “You look beautiful. You were right. This is the perfect dress for you.”
I raise my head, and our eyes lock in the mirror.
“You look beautiful, too,” I say in a soft voice.
His lips part like he’s about to say something else. But then his expression changes, and he turns me to face him so he can put his mouth over mine. His tongue is everywhere, and I fist his wool sweater in my hands and pull him against me.
We’re still kissing when the saleswoman comes around the corner. “Oh, what a perfect fit! Never seen anything like it.”
I break away from Dylan.
“When’s the big day?”
Flustered, I nearly topple off the platform. But Dylan grabs me around the waist and holds me steady.
“We don’t have a date set yet,” he says calmly. “We’re just in the beginning stages.”
“How exciting,” the woman says. “And to have the dress chosen so early on! That’s one of the biggest stresses out of the way.”
“That is a relief,” Dylan agrees.
“Where did you two meet?” She doesn’t seem to have a clue who he is.
“Arizona,” Dylan says. “In the desert.”
I’ve lost the power of speech and nearly of air.
