Page 89 of I Choose You

I shook my head. “Not the tat, the parlor. We were out of town on a girls’ trip. A little one-day thing. I wanted to get a Hindu design, but the idiot was just an apprentice. He made a mistake, then tried to fix it, and then—without even telling me!—he ‘covered’ it with something he thought I’d like.”

I rolled my eyes as he looked closer, squinting.

“But why does it have three ears? And a weird nose.”

I looked down at it too, sighing. “Rena thinks it looks like a horse. From my angle, it looks like a damn balloon dog upside down.”

Whew. I’d saved the night. He was smiling and laughing once more. No heaviness lingered between us. No secrets darkened the mood.

I sipped my wine again and tried to squash all the thoughts that bombarded me anyway.

* * *

Twelve years ago…

“Careful. Careful,” Mom warned gently as I pulled my dress over my head. “Wait.” She narrowed her eyes at me and leaned down.

We stood in my room as I tried my prom dress on one final time. It had been years since she’d assisted me with an outfit. I was almost eighteen, for God’s sake. I wasn’t so old that having her see me in my bra and panties bothered me. She was my mom. Of course, I didn’t have to worry about modesty around her. Paige had gone through a phase of wanting nothing to do with her parents, but I doubted I could ever allow distance from Mom.

She gasped. “Brooke Marie Ponder!”

I widened my eyes at the full name. It’d also been years since I heard that. And I knew why she’d used it. Belatedly, I slapped my hand over my hipbone.

“What is that?”

I grimaced, sliding my hand from the tattoo of that dumb bunny. “Uh…”

She crossed her arms.

“Paige and I played Truth or Dare when I slept over at her house in the summer, and, well…”

She rolled her eyes.

“It’s not like it’ll be there forever!” I rubbed at the spot, wondering how long it would take for my seasonal paleness to erase it over the winter.

“Oh, to be young and do stupid things again,” she teased. “I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo myself. Just never knew what to get.”

I grinned. “Well, I wouldn’t ever get that. Not for real.”

She helped me zip up and fussed with the fabric. This morning, she’d finished the last of the alterations, and with this fitting, she would decide if the masterpiece was done or not. I hoped it was. Prom would be here soon.

I stepped into my sneakers and looked in the mirror.

Mom beamed, standing behind me as I looked at my reflection.

For once, I didn’t feel like the ugly duckling. The usual sinking feeling of dread didn’t come, the thoughts that yeah, that mess really was what I looked like to the rest of the world.

I didn’t cringe. I didn’t analyze and list all of my flaws that I hated.

Gazing in the mirror, I didn’t notice the pimples I was treating, the way my brows never, ever looked even, or the thinness of my lips. All I saw was me. A pretty girl in the most beautiful dress in the world.

I lowered my hands over the layers, and my smile spread wider. It felt so smooth and soft, and it was so comfortable. Nothing pinched. Nothing strained over the rolls I wanted to hide.

Mom stepped close and kissed my cheek. She smiled at my reflection in the mirror. “You look stunning.”

I fingered the fabric, overwhelmed that this dress was for me. It was mine. And I looked awesome in it.

“Thank you, Mom.”