Chapter 67: Risqué It Is
Lizzie
If choosing a wedding dress had felt overwhelming in a distant, almost abstract way, lingerie shopping was something else entirely, something far more immediate and personal, the kind of experience that forced you to confront parts of yourself you didn’t usually examine this closely.
Savannah moved through the store like she owned it, pulling pieces with the confidence of someone who had done this dance before.
There was no hesitation in her movements, no second-guessing, just a quiet certainty that made me acutely aware of how out of place I felt in comparison.
She held up a deep maroon set—satin and sheer lace, with delicate straps and a plunging neckline that promised trouble.
“This color looks good on you,” she said, shoving it gently against m
