Page 203 of By His Vow

I let out a sigh as I look at each one, my heart threatening to pound out of my chest.

This doesn’t feel real.

Me trying on wedding dresses…

I shake my head, trying to make sense of it all.

Stripping out of my work clothes, I stand in a set of lingerie Kingston bought for me.

He has no idea I’m wearing it, and even if he asked, I’d lie, but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed something special today, and to be fair to him, he has very good taste.

We haven’t been intimate since our drunken debauchery in the bathroom on Monday night, and as far as I’m concerned, it’s going to stay that way for the foreseeable future. Sex changes things. It clouds our judgment and makes things even more complicated than they already are. At least for me, it does.

It was the addition of our physical connection that resulted in me convincing myself that we were more than a business deal. It led me to the pain that Monday caused, and if I can safeguard myself from that again, I will.

Everything is hard enough as it is. I don’t need any extra complications.

Going for the safest option first, I pull the heavy yet feather-soft satin up my body and slip the straps over my shoulders.

I look at myself in the mirror, my hands trembling as I hold the too-big dress against me.

It’s pretty. Beautiful, in fact. But it doesn’t make me feel like I thought it would.It feels wrong, and it makes my pulse pick up speed.

It’s just a dress. Not the dress.

But then this isn’t the wedding, so maybe it isn’t meant to feel like they tell you it does in the movies.

“Come on, let us see,” Lori calls impatiently, making my heart skip a beat.

I should be excited doing this. I should want to step out there and show my best friend.

But I’m terrified.

Taking in a deep breath, I turn toward the curtain and awkwardly slip out.

“Oh.” Lori’s face falls the second she sees I’m not in the dress she was hoping for. “It’s beautiful,” she says, trying to recover quickly.

Basically, she mirrors exactly how I’m feeling.

“Okay, come and stand up here and we’ll get it fitting like it should so you can see the true look,” the assistant says, pointing to a raised platform.

Swiping my glass of champagne on the way, I swallow it down fast in the hope of squashing the unease that’s bubbling up inside me. I stand there and let her do her thing, watching the dress transform before my eyes in the mirror.

It looks better, sure, but it still doesn’t feel special.

It still doesn’t feel right.

“I like it,” she says when she finally takes a step back.

Like…

Yeah, like it’s really how you want anyone to describe your wedding dress.

My heart begins to pound harder as claustrophobia seeps in.

It feels like the dress is shrinking, stopping me from breathing.

“Can you release it? I need to take it off,” I ask in a rush, my temperature soaring higher with every increased beat of my heart.

---