CHAPTER 69

I wouldn't call it a fight, but when we first discussed our wedding plans with Dad and Haley, Dad had some strong opinions on his contribution. In particular, he insisted on paying for the flowers, the reception, and all the décor. It seemed easier to give in.

Plus, seeing his stubbornness directed at supporting us hit me in the feels.

So, Timothy and I paid for the guests' activities, and me...

I bought my dress.

"Are you ready to see the final version?" the designer, a petite woman with short, dark hair, asks when Haley and I arrive for our appointment at the small all-white storefront in Malibu.

"You have no idea," I say.

I've seen photos of it but haven't tried it on since an initial fitting ages ago.

The designer returns with the garment bag and clears space on the rack, hanging what looks like a relatively modest package compared to some of the huge gowns in the store. She unzips it from the top, and my breath catches as the smooth fabric emerges an inch at a time.

"Emily," Haley says quietly, "it's gorgeous."

I step forward, running my hands over the bodice. It's the palest purple, off the shoulder with a deep V in the front. "It's modeled after the dress I bought to wear to prom with Timothy."

"You guys didn't go to prom."

"No, we didn't."

But I'd wanted to. It was that night, that week, that month that everything crystallized for us.

That I knew Timothy and I would never be the same because I was so in love with him.

And because he couldn't deny me either.

"I made some modifications given the fabric and the fact that you'll be wearing it on a beach." The designer pulls the dress out of the bag fully.

My gaze drags to the bottom in surprise as Haley moves closer behind me.

"What do you think?" I ask.

"I think it's stunning and you should try it on."

I strip down behind a curtain and change into the dress before coming back out. I step onto the small dais-unnecessary because my dress doesn't have a train-and turn in front of the gilded mirror. It lifts my breasts, gives me cleavage without looking too crazy, and fits tightly to my stomach and hips before flaring softly below.

My stepmom studies me, thoughtful as ever. With her dark ponytail and simple, stylish clothes, it's easy to imagine she's a friend or a sister rather than the woman who married my dad.

My attention flicks between Haley and the designer. "I just want to stand in it a moment."

The designer's smile relaxes a degree. "Of course."

When she heads toward the back of the boutique, I spin a little circle. The dress follows my turn, clinging to my curves. The spotlights overhead and the natural light from the front window make it even more ethereal.

"I used to think brides were crazy for wanting everything to be perfect," I tell Haley. "Nothing in our lives has been perfect so far." Emotions swell in my chest, making me clench my fists. "But that's why I need it to be perfect. I've been planning this for months, even little details I haven't told him, because I want this for Tyler. It's my gift to him. My commitment to us."

Her lips purse. "And this Wicked offer makes it harder."

"I hate it. I wish Dad told me before he asked Tyler. Not that he would've asked permission, because Dad doesn't ask anyone before doing anything." I snort as I hold up pieces of my hair, imagining how it will look pinned up. "I know they have their own relationship, but it's like whenever I think Timothy and I have a chance to catch our breath, something else comes up." I shake my head. "I've been focusing on us having this time together. Every decision I've made for the past six months has been for that. I thought Timothy would do the same. That he wanted it as much as I did."

My chest tightens in a way that has nothing to do with the dress.

Haley comes up behind me and squeezes my shoulders. "He does want it, Emily. I can see it in the way he looks at you. But fame is a strange thing. It doesn't wait until you're ready. God knows your dad wasn't ready for it when he was swept up as a teenager. We're rarely prepared for the things life throws our way. Timothy's opportunities are suddenly on a huge scale. He's one man, and he's growing into something bigger than humans were made to be."

I sigh. "I love everything success has brought him. And it's not that I envy him what he's achieved-I'm so proud of him. But I wish he would've included me so we could figure it out together."

"There's one thing I know with Timothy-he's not careless with anything, least of all with you. If he's kept you out of something, he's considered it. Agonized over it. For better or for worse."

Haley doesn't talk much about her relationship with my dad or insert herself in mine with Timothy, but I respect her. She knows what it's like to be caught in the middle of this surreal life.

"You know," she goes on, "when your dad was starting his label, I was pregnant with Mason. He was supposed to do a promotional thing in LA. It was important and had been scheduled ages ahead of time. I called him and told him to come back."

I blink in surprise. "I can't picture you doing that."

"I thought I was okay without him, but I wasn't. So, I told him," she says. "He dropped everything and came back for us."

I turn that over. Even though he's working on other things, I know he'd drop them if I truly asked him to.

But Haley's right that Timothy's growing and he has to deal with new opportunities. I've seen that growth in him even in the past year, when he's matured as an artist, a friend, a partner.

And I don't want the first act of our marriage to be me holding him back from becoming the man he's meant to be.