Page 16 of Savage Love

“I–don’t know. Um–lace?” I like the idea of a lace wedding gown. I wonder what Levin would prefer, and my heart skips a beat in my chest, imagining him watching me walk down the aisle in a wedding dress.

And then I remember that this isn’t the kind of marriage where something like that matters, and my heart sinks.

“Sleeves or no sleeves?” Madison chirps, and once again, I have no idea what to say.

“It’s a summer wedding,” Isabella chimes in, saving me. “I would think either short sleeves, straps, or strapless. Just–bring some options, and we can narrow it down.”

“Of course!” Madison bustles away, and I stand there, feeling a bit dizzy.

Isabella looks at me a little sympathetically. “It’s overwhelming at first. But it’s a lot of fun, once you narrow it down to a few choices. And I’m here to help you pick.”

I can tell she’s enjoying this—wedding dress shopping with her little sister, and I resolve to try to enjoy it too. Much like what happened in Rio, nothing will be gained bynotenjoying the parts of this that can be fun.

Madison brings me a heaping armful of dresses, hanging them up one by one in the dressing room, and then pushing the pink velvet curtain aside so that I can come in. She waits expectantly while I strip down to my underwear, and then pulls the first dress off of the hanger, holding it out for me to step into.

This one is smooth white silk, heavy and thick, with finger-wide straps and a v-neckline that shows off my shoulders, collarbone, and cleavage to a nice effect. The waist nips in, the skirt billowing out in heavy pleats, and it’s very flattering, if a bit plain. I hold my hair to one side as she zips it up and pins it in place to give me a better idea of how it would fit my shape.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous!” Isabella exclaims as I step out, her eyes widening as I walk to the three-way mirror and turn this way and that. “What do you think?”

“It’s pretty. A little plain.” I’m not entirely sure what I think of it. I’d never really envisioned myself in a wedding dress, so I can’t say if it’s what I pictured. “I think I would like something with some lace, maybe? I’m not sure—”

“We’ll try something with some lace, then,” Madison says cheerfully, bustling me back to the dressing room.

We try on so many dresses that I lose track, in every silhouette I can think of. Big, Cinderella-style ballgowns, sleek sheath dresses, mermaid gowns so tight that I don’t even know how I would walk down the aisle. I try on silk and satin and taffeta, gowns with varying amounts of lace, and something calledSwiss dot, but eventually, I come back to a dress I tried on about halfway through the appointment.

“I want to put this one on again,” I tell Madison, finding it in the sea of silk and chiffon and lace hanging from the hooks in the dressing room. She beams at me as she pulls it down and holds it for me to step into again.

“This one looked absolutelystunningon you,” she says firmly. She’s said that about every dress, so I’m not sure how much stock to put in it, but as she tugs it up to my shoulders, zipping and buttoning and attaching the clips to the back so it fits me the way it will after it’s been tailored, I know it’s the one.

Tears spring to my eyes, which only makes Madison’s smile even bigger when she catches a glimpse of it in the mirror—but they’re not for the reason she thinks. The dress is perfect—I know it is the moment I look at it again, but I don’t want to wear it for this wedding. I want to wear it to marry Levin—but in a world where this wedding is our choice outside of any other influences, where there are no obligations and no danger in making that decision for us.

This is the only time I’ll ever get married. The only day where I’ll get to wear a dress like this and walk down the aisle, the only day that I’ll make those vows. I’m torn between buying the one that feels right and choosing something else because if the marriage isn’t going to be what I want, why should this be, either?

“Is something wrong?” Madison peers at me over my shoulder, and I suck in a breath, smoothing my hands over the lace skirt.

There’s no reason to make this harder than it actually is. And some small, foolish part of me; a part that belongs to the girl who read romance novels and dreamed of handsome princes and fairytale knights, the girl who existed before that plane crash—still hopes that Levin will see me walking down that aisle and that in that moment, everything will change.

That he’ll realize he’s loved and wanted me all along, and we would always have ended up at the altar, no matter how we got there.

“No,” I tell her with a smile, forcing it onto my face. “It’s perfect. Let’s go show Isabella.”

I want that small hope to be true. But I have a feeling that I’m about to be facing a lifetime of forcing smiles that feel as if they don’t belong on my face.

As if, at least when it comes to the man who is about to be my husband, all of the happiness that I was ever going to feel is already behind me.

Elena

The moment I see Levin sitting in the living room, my heart leaps into my throat. I know I shouldn’t let myself be as happy as I am—it’s a road that is only going to lead to my getting hurt. This isn’t going to be the kind of marriage that I want to imagine it will be.

But I can’t help the way it makes me feel, seeing him there.

Isabella walks in, going over to Niall to scoop Aisling up and give him a kiss, and Levin turns to see me. I think I see a flicker of emotion in his expression, and then he stands up, walking towards me before I’m very far into the room.

“Elena.” He hesitates, and I have the briefest of moments where I think he might be about to kiss me, before he tenses, and nods towards the hall. “Can we go outside? I thought we should talk.”

“Um–sure.” I glance back at Isabella and Niall once before following him out, feeling unsteady. It’s never felt as if there were so much distance between us before, even before what happened on the beach. I’ve never felt so off-balance with him, like I’m not entirely sure what to say or what’s coming next.

I follow him to the kitchen, out of the back door, and into the backyard. There’s a small, pretty garden to one side of the house, with flowers planted everywhere, and a bench towards one far side of it. Levin leads me there, his hand wrapped around mine, and for a moment, I just let myself savor the feeling of him touching me, his broad palm pressed against my smaller one.

---