Page 2 of Fragments of You

“I’m just saying... Maybe it’s not the dress she’s having issues committing to.”

“Celine.” My mother tries again.

“What? If I were marrying a man like Felix Jensen, I’d wear a freaking trash bag down the aisle if it meant I could be his wife sooner.”

Did I mention my sister also does very little to hide her infatuation with my fiancé? Well, she doesn’t. I mean, I can’t really blame her for being infatuated with him. Hell, most people are. Felix is... Well, he’s about as close to perfect as you can get. He’s kind, witty, and looks-wise, well, he’s so far out of my league it’s almost laughable. But for some reason, he doesn’t seem to think so.

Funny enough, I didn’t care for him much growing up. I always thought he was an arrogant playboy who only saw girls for what he could get from them. And once he got it, he was on to the next. But when my world fell apart around me, he was the only person who cared enough to pick me up and piece me back together. I honestly don’t know where I’d be without him.

“Well, you’re not marrying him,” I needlessly point out. “I just want everything to be perfect.”

“And it will be,” my mother reassures. “No matter what dress you choose.”

“Speaking of dresses,” I shift uncomfortably. “I’m fairly certain I might pass out if I don’t get this one off.” I let out a forced laugh, making my way back to the dressing room where an attendant is already waiting to help me out of the garment that trails a good ten feet behind me.

“Is everything okay?” my mom asks a few minutes later as we make our way out of the dress shop, sans a dress selection.

“Everything’s fine.”

Her question makes me uncomfortable, like maybe she’s seeing something I’m trying to pretend isn’t there.

“You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

“I know.” I swallow hard, focusing on my sister as she walks several paces ahead of us.

“If you’re having second thoughts—” she says, almost hopeful.

“I’m not.” I’m quick to cut her off.

“But something is wrong.” It’s not a question.

“Do you think I’m making a mistake?” I blurt, looking anywhere but at my mom.

“Do you think you’re making a mistake?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know. I love Felix. I don’t know where I’d be without him.”

“But being appreciative of someone doesn’t always equate to being in love with them.” She’s wishful thinking now. She won’t outright say it, but I know deep down she’s hoping I change my mind. I know she doesn’t think Felix is right for me, but she doesn’t fully understand our relationship and what that man has done for me.

“I never said I wasn’t in love with him.” My defensive words spill over my lips. “I love Felix.”

“Then what is it?”

“With Felix, I feel safe. I feel loved. I feel lucky to be with him. But I don’t feel that fire. The one I felt with...” I refuse to say his name, already riddled with guilt just admitting this out loud. “He doesn’t consume me in that way.”

“And no one ever will again. Because you were young, and young love is different in that way. Every moment is a new adventure, a new discovery. You aren’t held back by the worry or pain of the past. You are free to give your entire self to that person in a way you’ll never be able to do again. And that’s okay. Anyone who’s experienced that kind of love will tell you, it may not feel the same, but that doesn’t mean it means any less.”

“Did you? Experience that kind of love, I mean. Before Dad?” I ask, having never really given much thought about that part of my mom’s past. In my mind, it’s always been my father.

She nods slowly. “His name was Charlie. He had the most beautiful eyes, and his laugh...” A smile touches her lips. “So infectious. I could be having the worst day, and his laugh would make everything okay again.”

“What happened to him?”

“What usually happens at that age. He wanted to move to the big city, make something of himself. And I... Well, I’ve always valued the quieter life. We wanted different things. Three years later, I met your father, and I’ve never looked back. I knew he was where I was meant to be. Charlie was my first love, but your father was my home.”

I consider her words carefully, realizing that is exactly how I feel about Felix. He feels like home.

“Can we... Can we go back?” I stop, turning back toward the direction we had just come.

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