Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 116471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Anna handed me a champagne flute. “Here. Have a sip.”
Mom’s eyes widened in alarm when she stepped in, followed by the sales associate. I wasn’t sure what they’d had to discuss behind closed doors. Mom had probably preselected wedding gowns for me to try on. If I let her, she’d tell me what to wear down to my underwear.
Anna strode toward Mom and handed her the remaining flute with a conspiratorial smile. “We must celebrate today, don’t you think, Mrs. Mancini?”
Mom was immediately lost to Anna’s charming ways. Sofia rolled her eyes to the heavens and exchanged a look with Anna before we all clinked glasses. I took a sip from the bubbly liquid and felt a buzz spread through my body. I had been allowed to drink alcohol only twice before, so my body reacted immediately. But I was glad for the pleasant warmth and the way it soothed my nerves.
“Your friend Giorgia’s still missing, right?” Anna asked as she plopped back down on the sofa and threw one elegant leg over the other. I felt a brief pang but immediately shoved the notion aside.
“That girl has her priorities wrong,” Mom clipped. “She’s probably still having breakfast.”
Heat traveled up my throat on Giorgia’s behalf.
I was about to say something when Giorgia stumbled in a couple of minutes later, looking flushed and her long red hair all over the place. Her older brother gave me a brief nod before he disappeared without a word. She gave me a big grin and hugged me.
“She could be such a pretty girl if she just lost all that extra weight,” Mom whispered.
I gave her a warning look. “Mom.” I hated when people said I would be pretty if I wasn’t in a wheelchair, and Mom did exactly the same with Giorgia now.
Giorgia was curvy, definitely more curvy than was deemed acceptable in our world. Women were supposed to have a model figure, and I didn’t mean plus-sized models who slowly conquered the runways. Our world still only regarded skinny women as beautiful. The judgmental nature of our world often made me resent it, but it was the world I knew, and I couldn’t imagine leaving it.
Giorgia scanned the display of dresses before she sank down beside me in an armchair. “You’ll look gorgeous in all of these dresses. They are stunning.”
“We can come here when you marry.”
Giorgia gave me an amused look. “I don’t think that’ll be happening any time soon, and they don’t have dresses above size six here.”
“Oh,” I said. “We’ll find something.”
“Today’s your day, Emma. Pick the dress of your dreams.”
“Maybe something that’ll distract people from her wheelchair,” Mom said with a fretful expression.
Giorgia widened her eyes comically. I just shrugged. Mom didn’t mean to hurt me. She wanted me to experience things “like normal people do” as she once said to me. I didn’t have the courage to tell her that I’d feel normal if she didn’t treat me like I was not.
Luckily, the sales associate paid more attention to me than Mom’s constant comments.
I was nervous when I wheeled into the changing room to try on the first few dresses. “Do you need help?” the sales associate asked.
“I’ll help her,” Giorgia quickly said before Mom could do so. She stepped into the changing room with me and closed the curtain.
I gave her a grateful smile.
It took a while for us to close the delicate buttons in the back, and eventually, the sales associate helped as well, but when I turned to the mirror and saw myself, tears stung my eyes. The sales associate explained how we could still shorten the skirt and customize everything to my desires, but I could only nod and stare. For some reason, I’d worried I wouldn’t feel pretty in a wedding dress. I realized it was a silly concern now. But weddings in our world were bound by so many traditions that seemed to leave even less room for a girl like me.
Giorgia gave me a thumbs-up, beaming all over her face. I allowed my fingers to stroke the fine material of the skirt. It was sheer but with a fine sheen and in a beautiful eggshell color. The sales associate had discouraged me from wearing a sweeping underskirt because it would push up when I was seated in the wheelchair, and now, in a more flowy skirt, I had to agree with her. It looked elegant instead of like I’d tried to squeeze myself into a seat. “The embroidery is so beautiful. You look amazing,” Giorgia said softly, her eyes actually glistening. She wasn’t a crier, so I could feel my own eyes water at the sight of her show of emotion. I touched the fine lace edging, which accentuated the low sweetheart neckline. I’d never put this much focus on my décolletage, but I had to admit it had a nice effect.