Lost In Me (Here and Now 1)
“There are plenty of plans you can join us for,” Mom assures him. “I have appointments with three caterers lined up for next week.”
“Wow, Mom,” Liz says. “Whose wedding is this anyway?”
“This is really happening, isn’t it?” Max asks, and there’s so much joy in his eyes that I’m reminded of the day at the gallery when he told me about my initial lack of response to his proposal. “I was beginning to think you didn’t want a future with me.”
He’s had enough limbo, hasn’t he? Can I really ask for him to endure more? And if Max is the man I want and he wants me, what’s the harm in getting married quickly?
“Oh, Max, you sweet thing,” Mom says, “of course this is happening.”
“That is the one,” Mom declares an hour into dress shopping.
I would have hated every minute of this at my old size. Putting on these dresses and modeling them for my critical mother—it would have pretty much been my own personal hell.
But at this size, it’s not so bad. The attendant brings in dress after dress, seemingly unconcerned about my own personal taste and style, and my mom dotes on me in every one. Even in the dresses she doesn’t like, she squeaks when I walk out of the dressing room.
And the way she’s looking at me in this one makes the little girl in me—the one desperate for her approval—so gleefully happy. I know this will be the dress we buy, regardless of how I feel about the style.
“Take your hair down,” Mom says. She comes up behind me and releases my barrette to let my heavy, dark hair fall past my shoulders. “Get her a veil,” she calls to the attendant.
The attendant rushes over with a veil in the same super-soft fabric featured on the dress and slides it into my hair.
“It’s perfect, isn’t it, sweetheart?”
When she turns me to face the big three-panel mirror, I can’t reply. I look like…a bride.
“It’s perfect,” Mom says for me. “We’re getting this one. No question.”
It’s not something I would have picked. It’s fitted all the way down through the hips and is covered with twinkling rhinestones. It’s one of those dresses I would love for someone else, but it’s not really for me. I always pictured myself getting married in something softer. Simpler.
“We’re in a tight timeline,” Mom says. “What kind of discount can you give me if we buy off the rack?”
The attendant and Mom haggle over price as I stare at my reflection. It’s just a dress. It doesn’t really matter if it’s my dream dress. All that matters is the guy. All that matters is Max.
February—Six Months Before Accident
“Would you get out from in front of that mirror?” Lizzy calls from the front room of our rental. “You look freaking gorgeous, and Max is going to think so too.”
I blink at my reflection, as if moistening my eyes could make me see what Lizzy sees, but it’s still me standin
g here. Me. Chubby. Plain. Trying too hard.
I chose black pants and a black scoop-neck sweater for tonight. No frills to distract from the two features of my outfit I do feel confident about: my cleavage and my sexy red heels.
I grab the curling iron and add a couple of fresh ringlets to hair. Max likes my hair. I said something about cutting it off last week, and he looked horrified. “You have great hair. Why would you cut something so beautiful?”
The ringing of the doorbell pulls me away from the mirror, and by the time I reach the front room, Max is already here, a bunch of red roses in his hands.
Lizzy shakes her head. “I fucking hate this holiday.”
“I told you Sam wanted to take you out tonight,” Max tells her.
Liz snorts. “Sam wanted to fuck me tonight. Pardon me for holding out for something more romantic than a low-budget porno on Valentine’s Day.”
Max laughs. “He would have given you all the romance you could handle.”
“He asked if I was open to a threesome,” Lizzy growls.
I bite back a smile. The relationship between Liz and Sam is a bit of a love-hate situation, and he likes to razz her by asking her for sexual favors.