Chapter 2
The next morning, the bridal shop delivered my wedding dress to my apartment.
The saleswoman stopped for a moment when she noticed the bandage on my arm. "Miss Evans, would you like us to adjust the sleeves for you?"
I shook my head. "No, that's okay."
She carefully unfolded the wedding dress.
The long-sleeved white gown covered my wound perfectly.
David picked it out.
He always said my shoulders and neck were gorgeous, and that with long sleeves, I'd look just like a white rose, elegant and pure.
I used to think that was the most romantic thing ever.
But now, all I could think was that this wedding dress was just an elegant bandage.
It could cover up the blood, but it could never cover up the pain.
While the makeup artist was doing my makeup, David finally showed up.
He was in a black suit, a groom's boutonniere on his chest, standing in the doorway just watching me.
I caught a flicker of worry in his eyes.
David asked, "Why do you look so pale?"
He walked over and lightly touched my chin with his fingertips.
He touched me so carefully, like he was scared he'd hurt me.
I didn't pull away.
When he caught sight of my arm, his face tightened up.
"How many stitches did you get?" he asked.
"Seven," I replied.
David fell silent for a couple seconds, then spoke softly, "I'm sorry about last night.
"I shouldn't have doubted you."
He placed a thermos on the dressing table. "It's Assorted Soup. Just sip a bit, and make sure you don't drink it on an empty stomach."
He always knew exactly when to show up, giving me a little warmth just when I was about to freeze over.
The makeup artist smiled. "Mr. Foster, you're so thoughtful."
David rested his hand on the back of my chair, his tone casual. "She's afraid of pain, cold, and being hungry."
He said it so smoothly, like my quirks were etched into his bones.
My eyelashes fluttered.
The next second, Rachel pushed the door open and walked in.
She was in her bridesmaid dress, her eyes red and puffy. "Claire, I'm so sorry. Last night was all my fault.
"If my electricity hadn't gone out, David would've definitely come to get you."
David immediately let go of the chair and turned to look at her. "Didn't I tell you to get some more sleep?"
Rachel kept her head down. "I couldn't sleep. I was worried Claire would be upset with me."
David's voice softened. "She won't."
He said it with such certainty.
Because I really never did, not back then.
Back in college, David and I had plans to watch the New Year's Eve fireworks together, but Rachel suddenly got sick to her stomach.
As soon as she called, David stuffed his scarf into my hands.
"Claire, I just can't let Rachel go to the hospital by herself. I'd be too worried," he said.
I stood in the square as midnight approached, watching him run off into the falling snow.
By the time he finally made it back, the fireworks were long gone.
He slipped his ice-cold, red hands into my pockets, smiling as he tried to coax a smile out of me. "I'll make it up to you next time."
I asked him, "But I was alone too, you know."
He paused, then kissed my forehead. "You're not the same. You're always the strong one."
Funny thing was, I actually thought he was complimenting me back then.
Now that I thought about it, that was the first time. But I was so wrapped up in loving him that I never really understood what he meant.
*****
In the dressing room, Rachel suddenly winced. "David, I think my heel's got a blister."
David dropped to his knees right away.
He gently lifted her dress, spotted a red mark on her ankle, and shot a frown at his assistant. "Grab a band-aid."
Alex quickly handed it over.
The box of band-aids was from my purse: the doctor told me last night to use them for my wound.
David tore one open and knelt down to stick it on Rachel's ankle.
"If the shoes don't fit, just switch them out. Don't force it," he said.
Rachel said quietly, "Claire picked out all the bridesmaid shoes. I didn't want to trouble anyone."
David looked up at me.
His tone wasn't blaming, just a bit distant. "Claire, Rachel's feet are pretty small. Didn't you check the size when you ordered them?"
I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
My makeup was perfect, lips soft and gentle in color, like I was made for this moment.
I looked exactly like the kind of bride everyone would want to bless with happiness.
But as David questioned me, the anesthesia in my arm had just faded, and the pain in my wound pulsed with every beat, reminding me I was anything but okay.
I didn't explain.
Rachel pulled her foot back.
"David, don't be hard on Claire. She was hurt yesterday. She probably didn't have the energy for this," Rachel said.
David stood up and gently ruffled my hair.
"I'm not blaming you. Just try not to let anything else go wrong today, alright?" he said.
I lowered my gaze.
My injury was just something he didn't want to ruin the day. But the moment Rachel had a little red mark on her foot, he was all over it, kneeling down for her without a second thought.