Page 162 of Sinful Sacrifice

Our attention turns to the door at the sound of a knock. Julian, who’s closest to the door, takes a few strides and swings it open.

Genesis stands in front of him, and her attention lands straight on me. “Pippa said she’s not walking down the aisle.”

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“It won’t zip,” I sob, clumsily stepping out of my dress and nearly face-planting on the floor, wearing only a bra and panties.

Genesis catches me just in time.

We’ve tried everything possible and then some to fit me into my wedding dress. I had it tailored months ago, not thinking I’d have that much weight fluctuation.

“I’ve sucked in all I can suck in,” I cry. My breaths are wheezy since I haven’t taken a full once since we started the exhausting project of how can we make Pippa skinnier. “The only way I’m fitting in that dress is one of you squeezing me so tight until my eyes pop out.”

Darcy scrunches her nose. “Ew, Ms. Morbid.”

“That’s it. I can’t walk down the aisle.” Like the dramatic bride I swore not to be, I collapse on the floor, settling my back against the wall, and bow my head as tears stream down my face. “You can all go. Grab a gift bag on your way out.”

“Honey,” my mom softly says, sitting next to me and stroking my arm. “We’ll figure something out.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Genesis leave the room.

“You can use my wedding dress,” Gigi offers before adding, “That isn’t a bad-luck thing, is it?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” Neomi says. “Let me google it.”

Neomi reaches for her phone, and I tune out their bad-luck conversation. Even if it isn’t considered bad luck, no way can I fit into Gigi’s dress. I won’t risk trying either because I’d feel terrible if I busted a button.

My shoulders slump in shame for not trying on the dress again days ago. It was even on my wedding checklist to do that last week. But I got too busy. Really, I forgot to check things off that list two weeks ago because I stupidly thought I had everything finished.

“Do you want me to go to your house and get you another dress?” Lanie asks, squatting next to me. “It’s only a thirty-minute drive.”

I blink away tears.

No, because I don’t know what will fit me in my closet.

Lately, my wardrobe has consisted of leggings and sweats.

There’s a reason I can’t fit in my dress.

Too much unprotected sex with my husband.

The door opens, and I hear loud footsteps.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Damien asks as I slowly lift my head.

He stands in front of me, clad in his tux, looking like the perfect husband he is. Lanie slides away from me as Damien takes her place. My heart stops as our eyes meet, and I see the panic in his.

My lower lip trembles as he uses his thumb to collect tears from my cheek. My makeup is ruined, and my hair slipped from its updo on my almost fall. I look far from a bride ready for her big day.

“I can’t fit into my dress,” I cry out. “I should’ve tried it on before.”

His chest relaxes. “That’s not a big deal.”

Says the guy who isn’t expected to walk down the aisle in a beautiful gown.

“It’s not fine.” I throw my arm out toward the dress puddled on the floor. “I have nothing to wear down the aisle.”

My mom stands. “Let’s give them a minute,” she tells the room.

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