Bridal Blues
The bridal salon smelled like roses and money.
Ava stood on a small round platform in front of three mirrors, wearing the final version of the dress.
Ivory silk, off-the-shoulder sleeves, fitted bodice, soft mermaid skirt that pooled into a short train. Simple, but it made her look like a queen. The designer fluttered around pinning the hem while Elena Blackwell nodded approval from the velvet sofa.
Perfect, Elena declared. You look like a Blackwell bride.
Ava forced a smile. She liked the dress. She hated the pressure.
Lucian was supposed to be in Tokyo, but his plane had landed early. He texted,
on my way. Want to see you in it.
She answered,
Bad luck!
He replied with a single devil emoji.
Twenty minutes later the salon door opened and there he was, a dark
