Page 75 of The Beauty Who Loved Him

She considered the black option.

Only for a second.

“I’m not dyeing Gia’s veil,” Vera said.

“Good choice, your father might puke,” Claire muttered in a low laugh.

At the mention of her father, Vera swung around to say, “And don’t you dare give him even a hint about what my dress looks like, Ma.”

Hannah, sweet as could be, turned the tablet around for Vera to see her mother still in the process of rolling her eyes.

“How little faith you have in me,” Claire returned.

She wanted to deny her mother’s claim, but the sight of herself still draped in beautiful, heavy white silk was impossible to ignore. Almost surreal.

“This is really happening,” Vera whispered.

Apparently, not low enough for the other people in the space to hear—virtually, and otherwise.

“I remember that feeling,” Claire mused.

“Me, too,” Hannah muttered, “but then the bastard had to go and ruin it.”

17.

“Hello, kisska.”

Vera clung tighter to the phone like it might bring her closer to the man who answered on the other end. “Vas.”

“Aren’t you shopping for dresses? Why on earth are you calling me?”

A valid question. Even if he did ask it impatiently.

Vera didn’t typically call Vaslav without his prompting through a text first because that’s what he preferred. He didn’t pretend to like talking on the phone, and she didn’t push him on it considering he was easier to appreciate when he was less annoyed.

Mostly.

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

Vaslav paused on the question before asking, “What does that have anything to do with dress shopping?”

“Well, nothing. Sort of,” Vera added quickly. “But then I—”

“Are you dress shopping?” he injected, demanding.

“Yes! I’m sitting in the dressing room right now.”

“Send me a picture.”

Vera’s brow jumped high. “Excuse me?”

“A picture. With your phone. Send it.”

“What if I was wearing my dress?”

“Are you?” he returned.

“Stop talking me in circles,” Vera returned. “That’s not the point, and you know it.”