Book two of 'The Vengeance Duology'
Five years ago, the lads and I made the biggest mistake of our lives-a reckless decision that shattered everything.
We destroyed what mattered most, but my deepest regret is how much I hurt her.
Every moment of pa...
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"I hate it," I grumble, running my hands over the fabric of the white gown. The color's perfect—elegant, timeless—but the cut... it's all wrong. I look over at Jacques, desperate for some validation.
"Yeah, it's—uh—well, I mean..." he stammers, clearly at a loss. "It's not the worst."
"Jacques," I sigh, exasperated. "Just say it's fucking ugly."
He winces. "Okay, fine, it's... not doing you any favors. The color's good, but the cut is—yeah, it's fucking ugly."
I roll my eyes and look back at the mirror. The bodice is too tight in the wrong places, making me feel like I'm stuffed into it, and the skirt falls awkwardly around my hips. "I look like I'm being swallowed by this thing. It's not supposed to be this hard, right?"
"You're marrying Tom, not the dress," Jacques teases, walking over and adjusting a bit of the fabric. "But seriously, you should feel amazing in it. This just looks uncomfortable."
I nod, frustrated. "I wanted something classic. Something... timeless, you know? But this just feels wrong." I tug at the neckline, feeling suffocated by the whole thing.
"You can still do white, just in a cut that actually flatters you," Jacques offers, crossing his arms as he studies the gown. "You've got options. Don't settle for something that makes you feel like this."
I stare at my reflection again, biting my lip. He's right. It's not the color that's the problem; it's everything else. This isn't what I envisioned at all.
I turn to the bridal shop worker, forcing a polite smile. "Could I try something in a different style? Something with a softer cut, maybe?"
The woman, who's been standing patiently to the side, nods quickly. "Of course. I'll bring a few options for you right away." She scurries off, leaving me and Jacques standing awkwardly in front of the mirror.
Jacques leans in, smirking. "Softer cut, huh? Maybe something that doesn't make you look like you're about to fight off dragons?"
I roll my eyes, but I can't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "I just want to look good. Is that too much to ask?"
"Not at all," he says, resting a hand on my shoulder. "We'll find something that makes you feel like a knockout."
The worker returns with a few dresses draped over her arm, each one looking far more promising than the one I'm currently wearing. I step off the platform, eager to peel off this monstrosity and find something that actually feels like me.
Jacques grabs the next dress from the rack and walks with me back to the dressing room. I can see the shop worker eyeing us curiously. She's probably wondering why he keeps coming back here with me, but honestly, I trust him more than anyone. The last thing I need is someone snapping a few pictures to sell to the paparazzi for quick cash.
