Page 33 of First Impressions of You

I feel like I’m in one of Movieland’s sci-fi movies, and I’ve just been transported to an alternate universe, one where Winter Davis doesn’t have a diabolical personality. One where he can… actually enjoy himself. And look stupidly good doing it.

The whole scene is so bewildering, I don’t even notice one of the seamstresses approaching me.

“Hi,” she greets me with a friendly wave. I take her in, noticing her young she is and wonder if she should be here at all.

“You must be Luiza,” the older seamstress calls from the floor where she’s marking the hem of Winter’s walnut-brown pants. “Anne Marie told us to expect you.” There’s a familiar curl to her words that make me wonder if, like me, English isn’t her first language.

“Yes,” I answer, and it’s like my voice is the counter spell to the scene in front of me. The tap-tap-tap of Dorothy’s heels. Like a switch flipped, and we’re back from whatever alternative universe we were just in.

Winter unfurls his body to his full height, his shoulders looking even broader without a shirt to cover them. The hands that were wrapped around his belly drop to his sides, curling into fists. His face changes entirely. Gone are the wide smile that forms dimples at the sides and gleam in his eyes from when he was laughing just a second ago.

Good to see you too, buddy.

I walk to the center of the room alongside the younger seamstress, approaching them carefully, my eyes on Winter as he tracks my steps. “Hi. Yes, I’m Luiza.”

“Hi, Luiza. I’m Adriana.” She stands up from her knees and waves me forward. “Come, come. It’s good we have you both here. We can see the full effect of the costumes since you’ll be together in a lot of the scenes.”

“Have they found the shoes yet?” the younger one asks Adriana, who’s clearly the one running the show here.

“Ay Diós, we need the shoes for her.” She stops for a second, hands in her hips as she makes up a plan. “Bella, go over and ask Anne Marie about the shoes. Tell her they haven’t been delivered yet, and we need them if we’re fitting Luiza for her wedding gown. If she tells you to talk to Richard…” Adriana sighs. “Come get me, and I’ll deal with him myself.”

Bella hurries out the door, and Adriana places a hand on the right side of Winter’s hip. His comfort around her makes me wonder if they knew each other before, or if this is how he is with everyone but me.

“Honey,” she says to him, “let me get Luiza in her dress, and I’ll be right back with you, ok?”

“Don’t worry, Adri.” His voice is like honey when he speaks to her. It’s so different than what it sounds like when he’s talking to me, I have that weird feeling he’s been dubbed. “I’m good here.”

She gives him a light tap on his arm. “I know you look good up here like a Greek god and all,” she teases, giving him a smile, and I swear to God I think I see his skin turn a pale shade of pink. “But you can step down for now if you want to. There’s coffee right there. Help yourself.” She nods to a table I hadn’t noticed right by the door.

“C’mon, sweetie. I’ve got your gown ready for you to try, and it’s so gorgeous you’ll cry when you put it on.”

Adriana beckons me to an area isolated from the rest of the room only by a folding screen. She’s a tiny woman, quite a few inches shorter than me, and she’s most likely in her sixties, but her small figure barely contains her loud energy. Or her strength, for that matter. She takes the dress off the hanger that’s placed a good foot above her head and drapes it over a table.

“Here, you take off your clothes and put this on. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

She walks away before I can say anything. Adriana is intense, moving around at a speed that belies her years.

I close my eyes, as I take a centering breath. Counting to ten, I open them again and stare at the wedding gown.

I can only see its back, but it already looks as beautiful as Adriana described it. I wonder if she made it.

I’m only wearing a summer dress today, so it’s quite easy to strip off my clothes. In my underwear, I debate whether I should keep my bra or not, but when I lift the dress and see the neck, I realize the bra I’m wearing today won’t work with it. I take it off too and hang it neatly over my dress on a hook on the wall.

Finally stripped down to my panties, I step inside the dress. All the fabric pooling around my feet weighs much more than I’d expect. I pull it up, and it glides smoothly over my hips. I push my right arm through the sleeve, and with a little bit of effort I manage to tuck in my left arm too.

I haven’t even zipped it up yet, and the image reflected on the mirror is already breathtaking. Adriana was right. This gown is so beautiful I could cry.

I’ve never put on something so gorgeous before.

The dress is crafted in a mixture of luxurious fabrics, ivory brocade threaded with golden to create a delicate pattern of vines on the entire length of the dress. The shoulders and sides are covered in an overlapping layer of velvet in a soft and ethereal champagne hue. The velvet bodice laces up under my chest to accentuate my curves, giving me a regal aura, and the sleeves of the same material are long and flared, flowing in cascading ruffles from my elbows down to my hands. The square neckline is adorned with intricate lace and dainty embroidery, resulting in an image that reflects the grandeur, enchantment, and romanticism of the occasion.

The full effect of the dress is majestic. It makes me feel sophisticated, and I’m not even styled to wear it yet.

Reaching behind me, I blindly try to find the zipper I know is hidden somewhere between the many layers of fabric, strategically placed so it disappears when I’m fully dressed. But even when I turn around to look in the mirror, I can’t find the zipper in my reflection.

“Adriana?” I call out weakly. I doubt she hears me, but I can’t bring myself to call her any louder. Not knowing who’s also standing right there on the other side of this folding screen.

Only silence meets my calling.

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