Page 39 of No Limits

There’s a small pedestal in the middle of the room that I step onto and turn to face the mirrors, running my hands over my stomach. Tears spring to my eyes. In no way is thisthedress, but it’s becoming far more real that I’m gettingmarried.

“Oh my God, Shay, you’re crying! Did you find the one already?”

“Not even a little, but it’s just hitting me that it’s real.” I dare to glance in the mirror to look at Mom, whose eyes are also filled with tears. I don’t have to ask to understand why she’s upset. There’s a large piece of the puzzle missing. A large part of our family.

He’s missing, and there’s nothing that can change that or bring him back. Dad was supposed to give me away, hand me over to the man who would take over my care and love and all the things a husband does. And he can’t. He won’t even get to see it.

The part of my heart that had started to heal, that felt mostly healed over, tears open a little bit again. It’s not as intense, not as severe, but it’s there.

I clear my throat and look at my reflection. “No, it’s definitely not the one, though it’s very pretty. Actually, I’m not sure I like this look at all. It’s a little too…flared at the bottom for me.”

“All right, well, that means we can eliminate all mermaid style. Unless you want to try another to be sure?”

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I’ll grab Prue.” Mom leaves the room. I’m sure she needs a moment to recompose herself, and I’ll grant it to her. This can’t be easy on her either.

While I take off the first dress, Chelsea takes it from my hands and puts it back on the hanger and I move to the next section of dresses, fit-and-flare.

The first one is a stunning satin with a crisscross design at the bodice. Prue returns when I’m standing on the pedestal again. “Oh, sweetie, you look stunning. Your mom said you weren’t a fan of the mermaids, so I’ll take all of those. But that looks wonderful. How do you feel in it?”

“Thank you. Um. It’s all right. The satin is pretty. I don’t really like how it cuts, though. I had a hard time walking over here and up onto the platform where it hits my thighs. Is that normal for this style, or is it just this dress?” It was like I could only take baby steps because the seam kept knocking into my thigh, preventing me from taking a big stride.

I wouldn’t want to take baby steps the whole time. It was another issue I had with the mermaid, but that was so tight over the legs I understood. Here, most of my leg is free so I want to move more.

“Unfortunately, that’s likely to be the style. It works for some because of their height and many just prefer the look of it, but if you don’t, maybe try one or two more and then decide it’s a no or keep looking for the perfect one!” Her chipper voice is a little much for me with not enough coffee in my system.

Because we got started so soon after getting here, I stopped drinking. My mimosa also sits mostly untouched, though Mom and Chelsea are both on their second.

“Okay. I think I’ll rule them out for now, but maybe revisit later. Mom, Chels, were there any like this that you’d really like to see on me.”

They both come forward and examine the selection, talking quietly amongst each other to decide which ones are worth keeping or vetoing.

“Just these two.” They each hold one in their hand and Prue clears away the rest.

Before I take the dress off all the way, I take a long and careful sip of coffee, feeling the warmth slide down my throat and through my veins.

“The next style is sheath. Are you sure about this? They just seem so…plain.” Chelsea has one side of her mouth raised and her nose crinkled.

“I know, but I want to try.”

She helps me change into one, and while it’s a beautiful dress, it’s not for me. She’s right, too plain.

“Oh, you look ravishing in that.” Prue’s popping in and out is making me dizzy. I know she’s doing her job by checking in on us, but I wish she’d just pick, here or gone.

Which makes me realize that Mom’s been gone a while.

“Prue, is my mother out there?”

“Yes, she’s just looking around a bit more. She actually asked me to bring a few to you, and they’re out here. Thoughts on the sheath?”

“It’s a no. The whole style. Not quite…enough.” I’m being far more decisive than I thought I’d be able to be about this process.

“Okay, I think your mother knew that and sent along a few other styles that you hadn’t mentioned. She said just to try. I’ll grab her on my way back to the floor so she can see you in them.” She quickly gathers the discarded dresses and leaves with a click of the door.

One more sip of coffee and I’m pulling out one of the dresses Mom sent in.

“A ballgown?”

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