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There isn’t much of a train on the dress so she opens the door for me and basically guides me out of the dressing room to where the girls are waiting.

“All right, ladies. Close your eyes,” Megan instructs. They all whisper excitedly as they close their eyes and I walk out onto the platform in front of the mirrors and turn to face them. Megan looks to me and I nod.

“Go ahead,” she calls.

“Kady,” Hannah whispers, tears welling up in her eyes as she stares up at me and I look away from her to fight off my own tears. I’ve cried enough in the past month. I don’t need to be doing it here.

“That dress was made for you,” Quinn says and I nod as I turn to look at myself in the mirror. She’s right. The dress hugs me in all the right places and the way it flows just a little bit on the bottom makes me feel like a princess without being over the top. The illusion halter neckline gives a hint of sexy but it’s not so much that Noah is going to lose his mind and the lace looks incredible against my skin.

“I think this is the one,” I say, turning back to Megan and she nods. Yeah, it’s way more money than I ever planned on spending but I can’t imagine getting married in anything else. Besides, Noah told Hannah that he wanted me to be happy.

“Wait,” Carly interjects. “Don’t you think you should try a couple more first?”

I turn back to the mirror and shake my head. “No. This is the one. I know it.”

“Look at who she’s marrying,” Hannah adds, smiling. “When Kady knows, she knows.”

I close my eyes as a smile stretches across my face, remembering the first time I ever saw Noah. God, I can’t believe it’s been sixteen years.

“Do we want to try any veils?” Megan asks and I tilt my head to the side as I study myself in the mirror.

“What do you guys think?”

Carly stands and studies my reflection. “I don’t know…”

“It would have to be the same lace, I think,” Quinn adds and I nod as I turn to Megan.

“Do you have anything with the same lace?”

She purses her lips. “I can check but I don’t think so.”

“I think you could get away with no veil in this dress,” Ali says and I turn back to the mirror and try to picture my hair all done up as I walk down the aisle. Hmmm… that may work.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.” I turn to Megan. “We’ll just get the dress.”

“Okay. Why don’t you come back with me?” Megan says. “You can get changed and then we’ll get you rung up, okay?”

I nod, leaving the girls with their champagne as I follow her back to the dressing room. She quickly gets me out of the dress and takes it with her as I pull my clothes back on and check the time on my phone. Noah wanted to go out tonight but the girls and I have a few more stops to make before we’re done. When I’m dressed, I turn to check the room one last time so I don’t forget anything when the doorknob rattles.

“Han?” I ask, opening it. A man charges into the room, slamming me back into the mirror. Pain lances through me as he clamps his hand over my mouth. My eyes widen and my heart jumps into my throat.

“Keep your mouth shut, slut,” he hisses, turning me so my back is pressed to his front as he wraps his other arm around my body, trapping both of my arms in his grip. I struggle against his hold, my chest tight as fear consumes me.

No.

No, no, no.

This can’t be happening again.

He drags me out of the dressing room into the hallway and I pray that one of the girls will see me but they’re lost in conversation. As he starts dragging me to the back door, I imagine never seeing Noah again, never getting to meet my son and being trapped in hell for the rest of my life and it spurs me into action. I lift my foot up for just a second and slam my heel down on his foot as hard as I can. He yelps and the hand on my mouth falls away for a second but I take full opportunity of it.

“Help!”

My voice echoes down the hallway and I pray that one of the girls hears my cry as the man behind me lands a punch to my stomach.

“I told you to shut the fuck up. Mr. Ford won’t be happy if you’re hurt when I deliver you to him but some things might be worth the risk.” He tries to cover my mouth again. I bite his finger so hard that my jaw aches and when he pulls it back, I scream again. And again. And again.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pulling me as hard as he can. I dig my heels into the carpet and fight against him, hoping I can just hold him off long enough for help to arrive. When I look up again, Tate is marching down the hallway with a look in her eyes that spells danger for the man behind me as she points a gun at him.