Belle Morte Bites (Belle Morte 4.3)

The Perfect Dress: Part One

Modern Day

My unbeating heart made a funny little stutter in my chest as I climbed out of the car and stood in front of the shop where, hopefully, I'd find my wedding dress.

The May air was soft and warm, the stars peeping out through thin veils of cloud, and the shop should have closed hours ago, but they'd made an exception for me, both because I couldn't visit the shop during the day, and because they were probably hoping that they'd get some good publicity if I chose my dress here. A celebrity vampire wedding was big news, and I probably could have had a custom dress professionally made by some fancy designer, but that felt like buying into celebrity culture in a way that just wasn't me. 

I didn't care about being famous. 

I didn't care about my wedding photos gracing the cover of magazines. 

I didn't want to build hype leading up to the big day, or tease Vladdicts about what the dress might look like or who might have designed it. 

My wedding was for me, Edmond, and the people we loved. It wasn't entertainment fodder for people we didn't know.

Roux squeezed my hand. "I'm so excited," she whispered.

I smiled at her, then looked back at my mum, who lingered by the car.

"Mum?" I said softly.

She smiled, but it was pinched at the edges. June's death was still a raw wound for both of us, but Mum felt it differently. She'd gone from having two teenaged daughters who lived at home, to one daughter in a grave, and the other who'd become famous, immortal, had moved out and got engaged in the space of less than a year. I didn't regret the choices I'd made, but I knew that Mum sometimes struggled.

I held out my hand and she took it, her smile a little warmer this time.

Isabeau led the way to the shop door, her chestnut curls swaying with every step, and I followed her, still holding Mum's hand, while Roux and Jason brought up the rear.

Inside, we were greeted by a forty-something woman in dark trousers and a cream blouse, her blonde hair held back in a neat French braid.

"Renie!" she exclaimed, as if we were old friends catching up. "It's so lovely to meet you. I'm Helen."

"Hi," I said, shaking her hand.

Everyone else introduced themselves while I gazed around the shop. Padded seats of cream leather sat here and there on the polished board floor, and the white walls were almost hidden behind artsy wedding photos, and racks upon racks of wedding dresses.

My heart gave another excited stutter.

I wasn't the kind of girl who'd dreamed of my wedding day, or imagined how my dress would look, but now I was here I was genuinely excited to try on dresses and find The One.

"So," Helen said, clasping her hands together. "Have you given any thought to what style you'd like?"

"Honestly, I have no idea," I said.

I liked pretty clothes, but I knew little about fashion terminology and I suspected that if Helen started suggesting the technical names of dress styles, I wouldn't know what she was talking about.

"How about you start by taking a look around and see what catches your eye?" Helen said.

"That works," I said.

"Excellent. Can I get champagne for anyone?"

Jason perked up. "Absolutely."

"I'm not sure," Mum said.