Page 113 of The Fiance Dilemma

Be there for my sister.

I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat and squeezed her arm. “Let’s try to keep thetaking Bobbi downto a minimum.” I made my mouth return the gesture. Back up my words. “This’ll be so much fun. I’m so excited.”

The moment I stepped inside Charleene’s Always a Bride bridal shop, I realized how much of a lie that was. The middle-aged, red-haired woman handed us one flute of champagne each, and before I could so much as take a sip, I was being yanked into a vortex of tulle, lace, silk, and organza. As if I was watching the scene unravel from above, I found myself in my underwear, inside a spacious dressing room, with Charleene fastening a gown around my torso.

“Hold your breath for me, honey,” I thought she said.

My lungs didn’t react. My brain couldn’t even process whether I was breathing. Was there air in my lungs?

She tugged at the fabric, making me brace a hand on the back of a Chesterfield sofa. God, who had a sofa inside a dressing room?Charleene,my mind answered.Which you knew because you’ve been here already. You’re always the bride.A second tug. Never the wife.

“All right,” Charleene muttered with a third and final pull. “I think this’ll do.”

My head dipped, appraising the gown. White. A layered skirt covered in tiny flowers. I swallowed. “I don’t have shoes,” I heard myself say.

“Don’t worry,” Charleene responded, clasping my arm and leading me out the door of the dressing room. “I have a pair out here. A six and a half, right?”

I stumbled down a narrow hallway, walking beside the woman for what seemed an eternity. Was the dressing room that far? She smelled like peonies and bergamot. The whole shop did. It had all those years ago, so some things never changed. “My feet,” I mumbled. Every step felt like I was putting weight on a twisted ankle. Blood pumping in joints and odd locations of my body. “My ankles feel a little weird. I don’t think the shoes will fit.”

All Charleene did was laugh. I didn’t know why. It was strained and strange and the sound was the last thing I heard before somehow being shoved onto a platform.

Bobbi and Adalyn materialized in front of me.

My sister’s brown eyes welled up, and a tear slipped down her cheek. She mumbled something before whispering, “Oh my God, Josie.”

“Well, that was quick,” Bobbi said from her side. I looked at her in time to see her down her glass of champagne. “I don’t think there’s a point in trying anything else, Josephine. You look perfect.”

Perfect.

I blinked at them, my brain struggling to sieve through words and my body feeling like one big pounding bell. Being hit by a hammer with every beat of my heart. Hands fell on my shoulders, turning me around.

My reflection crystallized before my eyes, blue eyes staring back at me wide and… void.

“I’ll get the shoes,” Charleene said, her voice sounding distant. Away. “Be right back.”

For the fifth time in my life, I stood in front of a mirror, dressed in all white. Ironically, this time, the dress was something I would really choose. Something that had nobody else’s interest at heart when hanging off a rack. Scoop neckline, thin straps, cummerbund-style waist. It was simple, if not for the intricate top layer of the skirt, covered in tiny, beautiful, embroidered flowers. It was perfect. Although perhaps… perhaps I was wrong.

Maybe it wasn’t perfect. Maybe it didn’t have my interests at heart. Maybe it was wrong. Maybe I was. The woman inside. Beneath. Inside the gown. I flexed my hands, feeling funny.

Images of what Saturday was supposed to be, to look like, with me in this dress, started taking form. Matthew standing there at the end of an aisle lined with rows of chairs. Smiling at me like he had this morning before we left. Like he had last night. Like every other time before. Everyone I loved was there. Grandpa Moe, Adalyn, Cameron. Everyone from town. Matthew’s parents,who believed… believed we’d fallen in love. Weeks ago. Months. Andrew, who’d asked to walk me down that stretch of carpet that would be rolled at our feet. Andrew who I… Who I’d said yes to. I would love that, my father walking me down the aisle. Of course. But would I? Did I love that when I didn’t even know why he was doing this? Whether he wanted me or not?

Whether he’d get this and disappear all over again?

Would Matthew do the same if that happened? Would he leave if he discovered all the ugliness beneath the dress? Every single emotion I’d ignored all these weeks? Every accusation, every single thing that had been broken. By me or somebody else.

We were backward after all. My ring— Dear God. My ring wasn’t even turned around. How could Matthew accept that? How could he accept me? How could I let Andrew walk me to the man I loved when he wasn’t even supposed to? It should never have been Andrew. Not like this.

I looked down. Brought my hand up. Pulled at my finger, trying to make this one wrong right. At least one. Just the one. It was the least I could do.

“Josie?” Adalyn’s voice slipped in. Pushing through the ringing I hadn’t noticed in my ears. “Josie, breathe.”

My head turned. Was I not breathing?

Adalyn paled. “I think she’s having a panic attack.”

Was I? Hands moved, traveling to my chest. I noticed it was heaving, the sound of the air as it barely went in or out reaching my ears. But that wasn’t important now. My ring was. Matthew’s ring. So beautiful, so unique. And I couldn’t get it off. Make it right for him.

“I can’t,” I heard myself mumble. My hands clashed, fingers fumbling against each other, fighting for control. Something was stuck. Something always was. “I need— I can’t— I don’t—” Air erupting out of me stopped my words.

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