She nods. “Right. I know that. Anyone who’s ever seen you two together knows that. But?”
"It's everything else." I gesture at the mirror, at the gown, at all of it. "The attention. The public speculation. Everyone’s always watching us."
"Can you blame them? Nick’s basically the king of this city and you’re the darling of the art world. People are invested in your happiness.”
“Not everyone,” I murmur. “There are some who’d love nothing better than to see us fall. The press has really been getting out of hand lately.”
Tasha nods. “The other day I had to chase off a reporter from one of those gossip pages. He came into Vendange asking about you and Nick. I caught him trying to bribe one of my hostesses to call him if you guys showed up.”
“Ugh, I’m sorry, Tash. And thank you.” I let out a sigh. “They’re relentless. It’s only getting worse the closer we get to the wedding. Sometimes I wish Nick and I could run off to City Hall and have a Justic of the Peace marry us.”
“What?” Tasha feigns a horrified look. “And miss out on seeing me rock that gorgeous Matron of Honor dress?”
I laugh in spite of myself. “You do look amazing in it.”
“Damn straight, I do.” She giggles, then gently touches my arm. “You’ve got this, Avery. I’m not just saying that so I candress up and have an excuse to get tipsy and dance with Tony at a fancy hotel. I mean it. You’re the strongest person I know. You've handled way worse than any of this."
She means Pennsylvania. My childhood. She means the Muncy correctional facility visiting room with its scratched plexiglass, my mother's hand held flat on the prisoners’ side while I pressed mine to hers on the freedom side. She means everything I survived before Nick, everything that still lives in my bones even when I don't speak of it.
"I know." My voice is smaller than I want it to be. "And you’re probably right. I’m just feeling anxious, that’s all."
She smiles softly. “Any time you need a pep talk, or someone to remind you how awesome you are, I got you, boo.”
I grab her hand and squeeze it. “Thanks, Tasha. I mean it.”
Just then, the door to the front of the atelier opens. The soft chime sounds in the fitting area, punctuating the soft classical music filtering through the studio.
"Good afternoon. I'm here for Avery Ross."
Nick’s voice reaches into me like a physical touch—deep, unhurried, a sound my body knows before my mind catches up. My pulse shifts. My skin flushes warm. Every nerve ending reorients toward the source like a compass finding north.
Except he can’t see me like this. Not yet.
“Tasha, quick. Help me down.”
She holds my hand to steady me as I start to step off the platform. At the same moment, Serena and her team rush to my side, all of us frantic to hide me before my husband-to-be sees the wedding dress.
The receptionist's flustered voice rises. "Mr. Baine, of course, just wait here and let me—"
Serena's elegance fractures into urgency. "Quickly. The fitting room."
The team moves at once. Yuki and Tasha steady me as I step down from the dais, the massive skirt requiring both hands to navigate. Two other atelier workers spring into action as well. Sofia gathers the train while Clara rushes ahead to open the fitting room’s louvered door. I’ve lost track of Nadiyah, who seems to have disappeared into the back somewhere.
From the lobby area, the receptionist sounds panicked now. “Mr. Baine, I’m sorry, but you really shouldn’t—"
She cuts off, and I know it’s because Nick is already moving. I can hear his footsteps approach, confident, unhurried.
Serena and the other women hustle me through the doorway. The door closes behind us, and I stand in the smaller, private fitting room with Yuki and Sofia, heart pounding, gown billowing around me, veil still pinned to my hair.
“I’ve come to see my fiancée.”
"Nick!" He’s in the main fitting area now. I can just make him out through one of the thin openings in the shuttered panel of the shuttered fitting room door. "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be back here."
"I had a break in my schedule. Thought I’d come by and see how things are going." Amusement warms his voice, and I can picture his expression—that slight curve of his mouth, the dark intent in his eyes.
“You almost saw me in my wedding dress.”
“And?”
