BeDazzled sits only a few doors down, wedged between a boutique selling wind chimes and a florist. The bridal shop’s windows glitter with crystal-beaded gowns posed on faceless mannequins. They gleam in the sun like they’ve been waiting just for me, and my stomach clenches so hard I almost trip.
The bell above the door tinkles as Sage pushes it open, ushering us inside. Cool air greets me, perfumed with fabric starch, roses, and the faint chemical tang of hair spray. Everything is white. White walls, white carpet, white orchids in tall glass vases. Even the light feels scrubbed clean, refracting through the chandeliers.
A woman sweeps toward us in a swish of silk trousers, her smile polished to perfection. She looks about forty, with a sleek bob, pearl earrings, and a clipboard tucked under one arm. “Welcome to BeDazzled! You must be the bride-to-be.” She holds her hand out for me to shake. “I’m Elena, and I’ll be taking care of you today.”
Before I can so much as open my mouth, she’s popping the cork on a chilled bottle of champagne and filling flutes with practiced precision. “Every bridedeserves a little sparkle.” She presses a glass into my hand as if it’s supposed to steady me.
“Follow me, ladies,” Elena continues, heels clicking against the marble tile. She leads us down a short hallway into a private fitting suite. Mirrors line one wall, floor to ceiling, angled so there’s no place to hide. A pedestal sits in the center like a stage, waiting for me to climb up and perform. Too bad I’m not in the mood. A couple velvet couches face it, already scattered with tissue boxes, as if they’re prepared for tears.
I take one cautious step inside, the champagne flute trembling in my hand. My reflection catches in the mirrors, and I swallow the lump forming in my throat.
Elena gestures grandly to me and my entourage. “Why don’t you all get comfortable? Noah, darling, we’ll chat before we dive into the gowns.”
I perch on the edge of the couch beside Sage, the champagne glass still balanced between my palms like a prop. Elena settles opposite, crossing one elegant ankle over the other. “Now, normally, I’d ask about your wedding. The aesthetic, the venue, the vibe you’re going for. Then we’d talk silhouettes, necklines, and of course”—her smile widens—“budget. But your fiancé and wedding planner have already spoken with me.”
The wordfiancéscrapes across my skin like sandpaper.And wedding planner? Does she mean Bradley’s assistant, Annabel?
Elena beams, oblivious. “They wanted to surprise you. So your planner curated ten gowns, specially chosen to reflect the vision you’ve mapped out for your big day.”
Sage clasps her hands together like it’s the sweetest thing she’s ever heard. Mom lets out a soft, misty sigh. Even Grandma Jo gives a slow nod, lips twitching with approval. Little do they know, Bradley’s organized everything, and I’ve had no say in any of it.
My smile stays fixed, unyielding, though inside it feels like the walls are pressing in.Of courseBradley has already chosen. Of course he’d turned even this into another decision I don’t get to make.
Elena rises gracefully. “Let me just bring them in.”
The rack appears with a faint squeak of wheels, ten immaculate gowns swaying like ghosts on their hangers. Satin gleams beneath the lights, lace spills over delicate tulle, and beads scatter pinpricks of color like shattered glass. Each dress is more expensive than the last. Flawless, and everything I am not.
Sage lets out a low whistle. “Damn, Bradley pulled out the stops. These are gorgeous. Very VIP.” She rises, brushing her fingers over the nearest gown like it’s spun from clouds.
Mom’s hand flies to her chest, her eyes glassy already. “Oh, sweetheart, they’re beautiful.” She squeezes my arm, the kind of touch that confirms this is reallyhappening. Her voice trembles with awe. “I can just picture you walking down the aisle.”
Grandma Jo squints at the lineup, tilting her head. “Pretty’s one thing. Wearable is another. Some of these look like you’d need a crowbar to sit down.”
Their laughter is lighthearted, joy filling the space like music.
And me? I keep my champagne glass poised at my lips, hiding behind the fizz, pretending the knot in my throat is nothing but bubbles. My chest is too tight, my ribs straining against the weight of dresses I didn’t choose and all the decisions I didn’t make for myself.
Elena gestures toward the fitting room. “Shall we begin?”
The air thickens as she guides me down the hall, the others settling back on the couches like an eager audience.
Once I’m inside the fitting room, Elena fusses with zippers and hangers, laying the first gown across her arms with practiced reverence. “This one’s a classic ball gown. Timeless elegance. Perfect for a grand entrance.”
I step out of my clothes, skin prickling under the fluorescent light, and let her fasten me into someone else’s idea of a dream dress. The fabric is heavy, stiff against my ribs. When she turns me toward the mirror, a stranger stares back, cinched waist, flared skirt, sparkling bodice. Perfect. Dazzling.Hollow.
Elena beams. “Exquisite. Should we showcase?”
My throat closes, but I nod anyway.
Within a few seconds, I’m back in the suite. I climb onto the pedestal, the hem of the gown whispering across the carpet. Sage claps, Mom gasps, Grandma Jo says something about needing a forklift to get me into a truck in that getup. Laughter ripples around me, warm and real, and for a moment, I want so badly to feel it too.
But the weight of satin presses down like a prison sentence.
One dress down. Nine to go.
Elena slips me back into the dressing room, her hands brisk and efficient as she peels away the ball gown.
The second dress clings to me like shrink-wrap—sleek silk, mermaid cut, a slit up the thigh daring enough to make even me blush. But, once again, I’m forced to… showcase.
