Page 10 of The Werewolf’s Wrong Mate

That was the problem. If it had been ugly, I could have hated it honestly. I could have stood in front of the mirror and blamed Tessa’s taste, Grant’s audacity, and the bridal industry’s long war against female dignity.

Instead, the dress fit. It skimmed where it should skim. It softened where it should soften. It made my skin look warm and my waist look dangerous. The neckline was low enough to remind people I had breasts and tasteful enough to make them feel rude for noticing.

Tessa had chosen well.

She always did, when she was apologizing for something.

I stared at myself in the mirror while my phone buzzed on the vanity.

Another text from Grant.

Unknown: You still wear pink better than she does.

I had not saved his number. I had blocked his old one after the second time he called me at midnight to say he missed how easy we used to be before I “made us complicated.” Apparently a man with Grant’s confidence could acquire burner numbers the way normal people acquired airline miles.

I deleted the text.

Then I washed my hands because even looking at it made me feel touched.

A knock sounded at my door.

“Cassie girl,” my father called. “You decent?”

“Physically or emotionally?”

The door opened two inches. My father peered in through the gap with the caution of a man who had survived marriage, divorce, and raising two daughters.

“Physically.” He said. “I know better than to ask the other one.”

I smiled despite myself. “Come in.”

He stepped inside, wearing a navy jacket and no tie. His hair had gone mostly gray at the temples since the divorce, which suited him better than the forced cheer he used to wear around my mother. Being unmarried had made him quieter. Not sad. Just less edited.

He stopped when he saw me.

“Oh, honey.”

“No.” I cut him off.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You had a face.”

He smiled weakly. “My face was proud.”

“Your face was tragic.”

“It can be both.” He closed the door behind him. “You look beautiful.”

I looked back at the mirror. “That feels like losing.”

“It isn’t.”

“It is when the bride picked the dress to prove she forgave herself.”

Dad exhaled through his nose and leaned against the dresser. There were people who would have told me Tessa loved me. People who would have said today was about her happiness, or family was complicated, or Grant was old news and I needed to move forward.

My father didn’t say any of that.