Part 8: Repairable Wounds
Joan straightened her jacket.
“You will regret this, Thomas.”
My father’s voice was steady.
“No. I regret waiting.”
Security led them away.
Joan did not scream.
That would have made her human.
She walked like she was leaving a restaurant that had disappointed her.
Madison cried loudly enough for everyone to hear.
No one followed.
When the door to the side office closed behind them, the room stayed silent.
Then I started shaking.
Luke wrapped his jacket around my shoulders.
“Baby, we can stop,” he said. “We don’t have to do this today.”
I looked down at my dress.
The right side was ruined.
The lace my grandmother had inspired was slashed.
The overskirt hung wrong.
My makeup was half gone.
My stepmother had tried to humiliate me in front of everyone I loved.
Part of me wanted to run upstairs and disappear.
Then Elena walked toward me.
She touched the torn seam gently.
“May I?”
I nodded.
She studied the damage.
Then she looked up, and a tiny spark appeared in her eyes.
“This is repairable.”
I laughed once, weak and disbelieving.
“Elena, half the side is cut.”
“Yes,” she said. “But she is not a seamstress. She cut ugly, not smart.”
For some reason, that made the whole bridal party laugh.
The first real sound of relief.
Elena turned to the wedding planner.
“I need twenty minutes, a private room, sharp shears, ivory thread, the emergency lace packet, and every bridesmaid who can sew a button.”
Claire raised her hand.
“I can sew rage into fabric.”
Tessa said, “I can hold wine and threaten people.”
My father stepped toward me.
“Dakota, I am so sorry.”
The hall blurred.
I had imagined that apology so many times as a teenager.
In the car after Joan made me sit alone at family dinners.
In my dorm room after Dad forgot my birthday because Joan planned Madison’s “promotion party” the same weekend.
At Christmas when my stocking disappeared and Joan said, “Oh, I thought you weren’t coming.”
I had imagined yelling.
I had imagined saying, “Too late.”
I had imagined being colder than I felt.
But when my father stood there with tears in his eyes, looking smaller than I had ever seen him, all I saw was a man who had finally woken up inside the wreckage.
“You believed her,” I whispered.
He nodded.
“I did.”
“You let me be alone.”
His face crumpled.
“I did.”
I wanted to forgive him instantly.
I also didn’t.
Both things were true.
So I said the most honest thing I could.
“I can’t fix that today.”
He nodded again, crying openly now.
“I know.”
“But you can walk me down the aisle.”
His hand flew to his mouth.
“If you still want me to.”
“I do.”
The words came out before I realized they were wedding words.
Luke laughed softly through his own tears.
May you like
“Careful. I’m supposed to be the one making her say that.”
The room finally breathed.
