Page 52 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

“All right.” He nods once, apparently coming to some conclusion. “Let’s narrow down your style.”

While Randy and Hannah disappear, I sink onto the velvet chaise and pull out my phone. I promised Mom I would call, and suddenly I need to see her face more than I need champagne.

She answers after two rings.

“Sweetheart.”

The sight of her steals my breath.

She’s sitting in the wide chair in her room, a soft lavender blanket across her lap and the oxygen line tucked beneath her nose. She looks tired. Too thin. But she’s smiling, and I appreciate that so much that I get teary-eyed.

“We’re shopping for your wedding dress?”

“We are.”

Her smile widens. “I wish I was there.”

The words press into the center of my chest. How little does she realize this isn’t a wedding I want. I’d never do this if it wasn’t for her.

But seeing her happiness is worth everything.

A rack with dresses is wheeled toward us, and Randy makes a show of introducing himself to my mom. “We’re going to need your help,” he tells her.

“I’d love that.”

Randy selects an armful of ivory fabric.

When he beckons me, I hand off my phone to Piper.

Randy has me step up onto the pedestal, and he holds the dress in front of me.

Critically, I survey myself in the mirror.

There are layers of tulle, tiny crystals scattered across the bodice, and enough material to suffocate me.

I shake my head. “It’s…” I wrinkle my nose. “Too much.”

Randy laughs. “You didn’t even give it ten seconds.”

“Which would be nine more than it deserves.” Piper lifts her glass in support of my decision.

My mom laughs, and the sound is so joyful that I almost forget that she’s halfway around the world, fighting for her life. For a single moment, life is what it’s supposed to be.

“In that case, let’s go a different direction.”

The next gown is nothing like the first.

And I like it enough to actually try it on.

Piper chats with my mom while Hannah leads me to a dressing room. While I change into a monogrammed robe, she prepares the dress.

This one skims my body, not too tightly but in a flattering way.

There’s lace, but not much, just enough to soften the neckline and sleeves. Nothing sparkles. Nothing billows. There isn’t a single crystal threatening to blind anyone from fifty feet away.

While I study myself critically, Hannah finishes with the dozens of buttons, then steps aside.

For a moment, I don’t move.