Page 28 of Why Not Forever?

She’s right. It’s a white cocktail dress with a sweeping, high-low overskirt. It looks almost like two dresses in one and it’s gorgeous. The only thing is the overskirt and bodice are black. It’s simple and elegant and perfect.

Lis brings it over and lowers her voice. “Adalie saw you looking at it when we came in. She’s kind of afraid of your mom, so she asked me for help. We’re not afraid of your mom, are we, Vic?”

I smile. “No. We are not.”

It’s taken me years to stop caring about what my mother thinks, but Lis is right. I’m not afraid of doing something she doesn’t like anymore.

I take the dress and change out of the one I’m in. In the front, the overskirt hangs from my waist to about five inches above the hem of the underskirt, which doesn’t quite hit my knee. In the back, the overskirt drops all the way to the ground in a short train. It’s black on the outside, white on the inside. The subtle sweetheart neckline shows off just enough, and it hugs my body like it was made for me.

“What do you think?” Harmony asks as she zips me up.

“It’s perfect.”

“You’re not a very traditional bride, are you?” she asks, laughing.

“Not exactly. My job is weddings. It’s what I do almost every day. I should be a little different for my own, I think. And this is it. This is the dress I want to get married in.”

I can imagine myself walking down the aisle to Tanner. I wonder for a moment if I weren’t marrying him, if I were marrying someone because I was in love with them, would I choose this dress? Or would I want something more traditional? But I haven’t liked any of the traditional ones.

I nod to my reflection. I’ve seen hundreds of weddings over the past several years, and one thing I’m certain of is that I want my wedding to be unique. I want to be different from everyone else. Who else would choose a black and white dress?

“I feel like your friends will be on board,” Harmony says. “If your mother doesn’t like it, will that be a deal breaker for you?”

It’s a valid question. For a lot of people, it would be. I remind myself that I am not looking for Mom’s approval. I haven’t needed it for a long time. I don’t need it now. I still take a fortifying breath before leaving the change room.

My friends gasp when they see me. Lis actually claps, then stands, rushing away—to get accessories, I assume. I ignore my mother’s pursed lips and narrowed eyes, stepping onto the dais in front of the mirrors.

“I love it,” I say.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mom says. “You can’t get married in a black dress. What would your father’s business associates say?”

“Considering none of them are coming to the wedding, I can’t imagine what they might say.”

“We’ve talked about this, Victoria. Your father and I will pay for the extra plates.”

We have talked about it. At length. All through dinner on Thursday and via texts and phone calls the rest of the weekend, she and Dad have been pestering me about people Imust add to the guest list.

I shake my head. “I’m not taking money from you for my wedding. This ismywedding to Tanner and we are including the people we invite and no one else. Invitations went out this morning. It’s done.”

Mom huffs but doesn’t say anything else. Lis returns holding a bunch of things.

“Veil or no?” she asks.

“No.” Though the one she chose is incredible. I didn’t know they made ombre veils.

“The birdcage veil didn’t seem right either, but I can go grab one if you want to try it,” she says, handing off the veil to Harmony. “I got a tiara, but I don’t think you’re a tiara person.”

“Not exactly,” I say.

She grins at me. “I figured. I just loved it. I also grabbed these.” She shows me some hair pins and a matching comb. They’re gold with little blue crystals. “Your colours are black and white with gold accents and your eyes are blue, so I thought they would be pretty.”

Adalie comes over next and helps put my hair up. “Of course, it would be nicer on the day, but something like this maybe?”

Lis hands her the comb and the pins and she places them strategically. Finally, Lis hands me the bouquet of fake white flowers and I turn to the mirror again. A lump forms in my throat as I stare at myself. I blink back the tears because this is exactly how I want to look to get married. Walking in here, I’d had no clue, but now that I see it, this is it.

“Yes,” I say.

“Turn around,” Ava says. “Let me get a picture.” She takes a few with her phone, looking at them critically before taking a couple more. “Now you’ll have some to show your hair and makeup people.” She smiles at me. “You’re gorgeous.”

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