“What do you think?” she asks, smoothing down the front of the dress before stepping toward the mirror.
Then she stops.
“Oh no.”
“What is it?” I ask quickly, my brows knitting together.
“I feel like I look like I have a pouch.” She pinches the tiniest bit of fabric over her stomach.
She’s always been a little too critical of herself.
“Nataly, you look amazing. There’s no pouch there,” I say honestly.
“Are you sure?” she asks, glancing at me sideways.
My expression softens. I recognize that look. She’s not really asking about the dress.
She just wants to know she’s beautiful today.
“Filhinha, you’re so beautiful,” I say, gently taking her arms and turning her to face me. “This dress looks incredible on you. It fits your figure perfectly. I don’t even think it’s possible tolooklike you have a pouch in this. It hugs you in all the right places.”
She exhales slowly, her shoulders relaxing. A bright smile curls up on her face. “Well… I know you’re always one to tell the truth.”
I grin back. She remembers far too many moments when I’ve been bluntly honest about things.
“If it did look bad—even remotely bad—you know I’d try to fix it. I wouldn’t let you walk out in it. But you know you could wear just?—”
“A trash bag?—”
“And still look good.”
We both finish the sentence at the same time, and she beams up at me. I’ve told her that for years.
“I’m sure it’s been on a catwalk somewhere,” she adds with a shrug.
“Well, it’s a good thing this dress is significantly better than a trash bag.”
I wrap my arms around her and pull her into a hug. The beaded sweetheart neckline catches the light as she leans into me, the dress fitted beautifully through her waist before trailing into a soft and subtle fishtail train.
“Alright,” I say, giving her shoulders a little squeeze. “Time for the veil and shoes. Then we need to go.”
If I linger too long, I might start crying. And it’s far too early for that.
“Ah! Let’s go!” Nataly lifts the front of her dress and hurries out toward the living room where the other girls are getting ready.
Just like that, she’s back in full focus mode.
When Nataly sets her mind on something, nothing distracts her. Today she’s determined that everything will go smoothly—and she’s ready to get out of this house and down the aisle.
As I step into the hallway, I see Nate coming out of his office.
I walk over and grab his arm.
“Go look at her and tell her she looks beautiful,” I whisper.
He’s been in full logistical mode all morning, making sure the car is downstairs and everything is ready. But the moment he looks up and sees her standing there in her dress, he pauses.
I can see it happening in real time. Our little girl.
